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 THELIFE AND CHARACTER OF THE PATRIOTS OF 1776

PREFACE

The writer of this book has been interested for many years in thesubject of the sufferings of the American prisoners of theRevolution. Finding the information she sought widely scattered, shehas, for her own use, and for that of all students of the subject, gathered all the facts she could obtain within the covers of thisvolume. There is little that is original in the compilation. Thereader will find that extensive use has been made of such narrativesas that Captain Dring has left us. The accounts could have been givenin the compiler's own words, but they would only, thereby, have lostin strength. The original narratives are all out of print, very scarceand hard to obtain, and the writer feels justified in reprinting themin this collection, for the sake of the general reader interested inthe subject, and not able to search for himself through the mass oforiginal material, some of which she has only discovered after monthsof research. Her work has mainly consisted in abridging these records, collected from so many different sources. 

The writer desires to express her thanks to the courteous librariansof the Library of Congress and of the War and Navy Departments; toDr. Langworthy for permission to publish his able and interestingpaper on the subject of the prisons in New York, and to many otherswho have helped her in her task. 

DANSKE DANDRIDGE. 

_December 6th, 1910. _

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER

 PREFACE

 I. INTRODUCTORY

 II. THE RIFLEMEN OF THE REVOLUTION

 III. NAMES OF SOME OF THE PRISONERS OF 1776

 IV. THE PRISONERS OF NEW YORK--JONATHAN GILLETT

 V. WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM, THE PROVOST MARSHAL

 VI. THE CASE OF JABEZ FITCH

 VII. THE HOSPITAL DOCTOR--A TORY'S ACCOUNT OF NEW YORK IN 1777--ETHAN ALLEN'S ACCOUNT OF THE PRISONERS

 VIII. THE ACCOUNT OF ALEXANDER GRAYDON

 IX. A FOUL PAGE OF ENGLISH HISTORY

 X. A BOY IN PRISON

 XI. THE NEWSPAPERS OF THE REVOLUTION

 XII. THE TRUMBULL PAPERS AND OTHER SOURCES OF INFORMATION

 XIII. A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE PROVOST

 XIV. FURTHER TESTIMONY OF CRUELTIES ENDURED BY AMERICAN PRISONERS

 XV. THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE--TRINITY CHURCHYARD

 XVI. CASE OF JOHN BLATCHFORD

 XVII. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AND OTHERS ON THE SUBJECT OF AMERICAN PRISONERS

 XVIII. THE ADVENTURES OF ANDREW SHERBURNE

 XIX. MORE ABOUT THE ENGLISH PRISONS--MEMOIR OF ELI BICKFORD--CAPTAIN FANNING

 XX. SOME SOUTHERN NAVAL PRISONERS

 XXI. EXTRACTS FROM NEWSPAPERS--SOME OF THE PRISON SHIPS--CASE OF CAPTAIN BIRDSALL

 XXII. THE JOURNAL OF DR. ELIAS CORNELIUS--BRITISH PRISONS IN THE SOUTH

 XXIII. A POET ON A PRISON SHIP

 XXIV. "THERE WAS A SHIP!"

 XXV. A DESCRIPTION OF THE JERSEY

 XXVI. THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX

 XXVII. THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX (CONTINUED)

 XXVIII. THE CASE OF CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS

 XXIX. TESTIMONY OF PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY

 XXX. RECOLLECTIONS OF ANDREW SHERBURNE

 XXXI. CAPTAIN ROSWELL PALMER

 XXXII. THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN ALEXANDER COFFIN

 XXXIII. A WONDERFUL DELIVERANCE

 XXXIV. THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING

 XXXV. THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING (CONTINUED)

 XXXVI. THE INTERMENT OF THE DEAD

 XXXVII. DAME GRANT AND HER BOAT

XXXVIII. THE SUPPLIES FOR THE PRISONERS

 XXXIX. FOURTH OF JULY ON THE JERSEY

 XL. AN ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE

 XLI. THE MEMORIAL TO GENERAL WASHINGTON

 XLII. THE EXCHANGE

 XLIII. THE CARTEL--CAPTAIN DRING'S NARRATIVE (CONTINUED)

 XLIV. CORRESPONDENCE OF WASHINGTON AND OTHERS

 XLV. GENERAL WASHINGTON AND REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY--COMMISSARIES SPROAT AND SKINNER

 XLVI. SOME OF THE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY

 CONCLUSION

 APPENDIX A. LIST OF 8000 MEN WHO WERE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE OLD JERSEY

 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. 

 APPENDIX C. BIBLIOGRAPHY

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY

It is with no desire to excite animosity against a people whose bloodis in our veins that we publish this volume of facts about some of theAmericans, seamen and soldiers, who were so unfortunate as to fallinto the hands of the enemy during the period of the Revolution. Wehave concealed nothing of the truth, but we have set nothing down inmalice, or with undue recrimination. 

It is for the sake of the martyrs of the prisons themselves that thiswork has been executed. It is because we, as a people, ought to knowwhat was endured; what wretchedness, what relentless torture, evenunto death, was nobly borne by the men who perished by thousands inBritish prisons and prison ships of the Revolution; it is because weare in danger of forgetting the sacrifice they made of their freshyoung lives in the service of their country; because the story hasnever been adequately told, that we, however unfit we may feelourselves for the task, have made an effort to give the people ofAmerica some account of the manner in which these young heroes, theflower of the land, in the prime of their vigorous manhood, met theirterrible fate. 

Too long have they lain in the ditches where they were thrown, acart-full at a time, like dead dogs, by their heartless murderers, unknown, unwept, unhonored, and unremembered. Who can tell us theirnames? What monument has been raised to their memories?

It is true that a beautiful shaft has lately been erected to themartyrs of the Jersey prison ship, about whom we will have very muchto say. But it is improbable that even the place of interment of thehundreds of prisoners who perished in the churches, sugar houses, andother places used as prisons in New York in the early years of theRevolution, can now be discovered. We know that they were, for themost part, dumped into ditches dug on the outskirts of the littlecity, the New York of 1776. These ditches were dug by Americansoldiers, as part of the entrenchments, during Washington's occupationof Manhattan in the spring of 1776. Little did these young men thinkthat they were, in some cases, literally digging a grave forthemselves. 

More than a hundred and thirty years have passed since the victims ofCunningham's cruelty and rapacity were starved to death in churchesconsecrated to the praise and worship of a God of love. It is a tardyrecognition 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 interredhave long ago been filled up, built over, and intersected bystreets. Who of the multitude that daily pass to and fro over theground that should be sacred ever give a thought to the remains of thebrave men beneath their feet, who perished that they might enjoy theblessings of liberty?

Republics are ungrateful; they have short memories; but it is due tothe martyrs of the Revolution that some attempt should be made to tellto the generations that succeed them who they were, what they did, andwhy they suffered so terribly and died so grimly, without weakening, and without betraying the cause of that country which was dearer tothem than their lives. 

We have, for the most part, limited ourselves to the prisons andprison ships in the city and on the waters of New York. This isbecause such information as we have been able to obtain concerning thetreatment of American prisoners by the British relates, almostentirely, to that locality. 

It is a terrible story that we are about to narrate, and we warn thelover of pleasant books to lay down our volume at the first page. Weshall see Cunningham, that burly, red-faced ruffian, the ProvostMarshal, wreaking his vengeance upon the defenceless prisoners in hiskeeping, for the assault made upon him at the outbreak of the war, when he and a companion who had made themselves obnoxious to therepublicans were mobbed and beaten in the streets of New York. He wasrescued by some friends of law and order, and locked up in one of thejails which was soon to be the theatre of his revenge. We shallnarrate the sufferings of the American prisoners taken at the time ofthe battle of Long Island, and after the surrender of Fort Washington, which events occurred, the first in August, the second in November ofthe year 1776. 

What we have been able to glean from many sources, none of whichcontradict each other in any important point, about the prisons andprison ships in New York, with a few narratives written by those whowere imprisoned in other places, shall fill this volume. Perhapsothers, far better fitted for the task, will make the necessaryresearches, in order to lay before the American people a statement ofwhat 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 dutythat we owe to the dead, and it is in no light spirit that we, for ourpart, begin our portion of the task. 

CHAPTER II

THE RIFLEMEN OF THE REVOLUTION

We will first endeavor to give the reader some idea of the men whowere imprisoned in New York in the fall and winter of 1776, It was inthe summer of that year that Congress ordered a regiment of riflemento be raised in Maryland and Virginia. These, with the so-called"Flying Camp" of Pennsylvania, made the bulk of the soldiers takenprisoners at Fort Washington on the fatal 16th of November. Washingtonhad 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. 

These hardy young riflemen were at first called by the British"regulars, " "a rabble in calico petticoats, " as a term ofcontempt. Their uniform consisted of tow linen or homespun huntingshirts, buckskin breeches, leggings and moccasins. They wore roundfelt hats, looped on one side and ornamented with a buck tail. Theycarried long rifles, shot pouches, tomahawks, and scalping knives. 

They soon proved themselves of great value for their superiormarksmanship, and the British, who began by scoffing at them, ended byfearing and hating them as they feared and hated no other troops. Themany accounts of the skill of these riflemen are interesting, and someof them shall be given here. 

One of the first companies that marched to the aid of Washington whenhe was at Cambridge in 1775 was that of Captain Michael Cresap, whichwas raised partly in Maryland and partly in the western part ofVirginia. This gallant young officer died in New York in the fall of1775, a year before the surrender of Fort Washington, yet his companymay be taken as a fair sample of what the riflemen of the frontiers ofour country were, and of what they could do. We will therefore givethe words of an eyewitness of their performances. This account istaken from the _Pennsylvania Journal_ of August 23rd, 1775. 

"On Friday evening last arrived at Lancaster, Pa. , on their way to theAmerican camp, Captain Cresap's Company of Riflemen, consisting of onehundred and thirty active, brave young fellows, many of whom have beenin the late expedition under Lord Dunmore against the Indians. Theybear in their bodies visible marks of their prowess, and show scarsand wounds which would do honour to Homer's Iliad. They show you, touse the poet's words:

 "'Where the gor'd battle bled at ev'ry vein!'

"One of these warriors in particular shows the cicatrices of fourbullet holes through his body. 

"These men have been bred in the woods to hardships and dangers sincetheir infancy. They appear as if they were entirely unacquainted with, and had never felt the passion of fear. With their rifles in theirhands, they assume a kind of omnipotence over their enemies. Onecannot much wonder at this when we mention a fact which can be fullyattested by several of the reputable persons who were eye-witnesses ofit. Two brothers in the company took a piece of board five inchesbroad, and seven inches long, with a bit of white paper, the size of adollar, nailed in the centre, and while one of them supported thisboard perpendicularly between his knees, the other at the distance ofupwards of sixty yards, and without any kind of rest, shot eightbullets through it successively, and spared a brother's thigh!

"Another of the company held a barrel stave perpendicularly in hishands, with one edge close to his side, while one of his comrades, atthe same distance, and in the manner before mentioned, shot severalbullets through it, without any apprehension of danger on either side. 

"The spectators appearing to be amazed at these feats, were told thatthere were upwards of fifty persons in the same company who could dothe same thing; that there was not one who could not 'plug nineteenbullets out of twenty, ' as they termed it, within an inch of the headof a ten-penny nail. 

"In short, to evince the confidence they possessed in these kind ofarms, some of them proposed to stand with apples on their heads, whileothers at the same distance undertook to shoot them off, but thepeople who saw the other experiments declined to be witnesses of this. 

"At night a great fire was kindled around a pole planted in the CourtHouse Square, where the company with the Captain at their head, allnaked to the waist and painted like savages (except the Captain, whowas in an Indian shirt), indulged a vast concourse of people with aperfect 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 arejudges that no representation could possibly come nearer theoriginal. The Captain's expertness and agility, in particular, inthese experiments, astonished every beholder. This morning they willset out on their march for Cambridge. "

From the _Virginia Gazette_ of July 22nd, 1775, we make thefollowing extract: "A correspondent informs us that one of thegentlemen appointed to command a company of riflemen to be raised inone of the frontier counties of Pennsylvania had so many applicationsfrom the people in his neighborhood, to be enrolled in the service, that a greater number presented themselves than his instructionspermitted him to engage, and being unwilling to give offence to any hethought of the following expedient: He, with a piece of chalk, drew ona board the figure of a nose of the common size, which he placed atthe distance of 150 yards, declaring that those who came nearest themark should be enlisted. Sixty odd hit the object. --General Gage, takecare of your nose!"

From the _Pennsylvania Journal_, July 25th, 1775: "Captain Dowdlewith his company of riflemen from Yorktown, Pa. , arrived at Cambridgeabout one o'clock today, and since has made proposals to GeneralWashington to attack the transport stationed at Charles River. He willengage to take her with thirty men. The General thinks it best todecline at present, but at the same time commends the spirit ofCaptain Dowdle and his brave men, who, though they just came a verylong march, offered to execute the plan immediately. "

In the third volume of American Archives, is an extract from a letterto a gentleman in Philadelphia, dated Frederick Town, Maryland, August1st, 1775, which speaks of the same company of riflemen whosewonderful marksmanship we have already noted. The writer says:

"Notwithstanding the urgency of my business I have been detained herethree days by a circumstance truly agreeable. I have had the happinessof seeing Captain Michael Cresap marching at the head of a formidablecompany of upwards of one hundred and thirty men from the mountainsand backwoods; painted like Indians; armed with tomahawks and rifles;dressed in hunting shirts and moccasins; and, tho' some of them hadtravelled hundreds of miles from the banks of the Ohio, they seemed towalk light and easy, and not with less spirit than at the first hourof their march. 

"I was favored by being constantly in Captain Cresap's company, andwatched the behavior of his men and the manner in which he treatedthem, for is seems that all who go out to war under him do not onlypay the most willing obedience to him as their commander, but in everyinstance of distress look up to him as their friend and father. Agreat part of his time was spent in listening to and relieving theirwants, without any apparent sense of fatigue and trouble. Whencomplaints were before him he determined with kindness and spirit, andon every occasion condescended to please without losing dignity. 

"Yesterday, July 31st, the company were supplied with a small quantityof powder, from the magazine, which wanted airing, and was not in goodorder for rifles: in the evening, however, they were drawn out to showthe gentlemen of the town their dexterity in shooting. A clap boardwith a mark the size of a dollar was put up; they began to fireoffhand, and the bystanders were surprised. Few shots were made thatwere not close to, or into, the paper. When they had shot some time inthis way, some lay on their backs, some on their breasts or sides, others ran twenty or thirty steps, and, firing as they ran, appearedto be equally certain of the mark. With this performance the companywere more than satisfied, when a young man took up the board in hishand, and not by the end, but by the side, and, holding it up, hisbrother walked to the distance, and coolly shot into the white. Layingdown his rifle he took the board, and holding it as it was heldbefore, the second brother shot as the former had done. 

"By this exhibition I was more astonished than pleased, but will youbelieve me when I tell you that one of the men took the board, andplacing it between his legs, stood with his back to a tree, whileanother drove the centre?

"What would a regular army of considerable strength in the forests ofAmerica do with one thousand of these men, who want nothing topreserve their health but water from the spring; with a little parchedcorn (with what they can easily procure by hunting); and who, wrappedin their blankets in the dead of night, would choose the shade of atree for their covering, and the earth for their bed?"

The descriptions we have quoted apply to the rifle companies of 1775, but they are a good general description of the abilities of theriflemen raised in the succeeding years of the war, many indeed beingthe same men who first volunteered in 1775. In the possession of oneof his descendants is a letter from one of these men written manyyears after the Revolution to the son of an old comrade in arms, giving an account of that comrade's experiences during a part of thewar. The letter was written by Major Henry Bedinger of BerkeleyCounty, Virginia, to a son of General Samuel Finley. 

Henry Bedinger was descended from an old German family. Hisgrandfather had emigrated to America from Alsace in 1737 to escapepersecution for his religious beliefs. The highest rank that Bedingerattained in the War of the Revolution was that of captain. He was aKnight of the Order of the Cincinnati, and he was, after the war, amajor of the militia of Berkeley County. The document in possession ofone of his descendants is undated, and appears to have been a roughcopy or draught of the original, which may now be in the keeping ofsome one of the descendants of General Finley. We will give it almostentire. Such family letters are, we need scarcely say, of great valueto all who are interested in historical research, supplying, as theydo, the necessary details which fill out and amplify the bare facts ofhistory, giving us a living picture of the times and events that theydescribe. 

PART OF A LETTER FROM MAJOR HENRY BEDINGER TO A SON OF GENERAL SAMUELFINLEY

"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 Morrowto assist his brother, Charles Morrow, in the business of a retailstore. 

"Mr. Finley continued in that employment until the spring of 1775, whenCongress called on the State of Virginia for two Complete IndependentVolunteer Companies of Riflemen of l00 Men each, to assist Gen'lWashington in the Siege of Boston & to serve one year. Captains HughStephenson of Berkeley, & Daniel Morgan of Frederick were selected toraise and command those companies, they being the first Regular troopsrequired to be raised in the State of Virginia for Continentalservice. 

"Captain Hugh Stephenson's rendezvous was Shepherd's Town (notMartinsburg) and Captain Morgan's was Winchester. Great exertions weremade by each Captain to complete his company first, that merit mightbe claimed on that account. Volunteers presented themselves in everydirection in the Vicinity of these Towns, none were received but youngmen of Character, and of sufficient property to Clothe themselvescompletely, find their own arms, and accoutrements, that is, anapproved Rifle, handsome shot pouch, and powder horn, blanket, knapsack, with such decent clothing as should be prescribed, but whichwas at first ordered to be only a Hunting shirt and pantaloons, fringed on every edge and in Various ways. 

"Our Company was raised in less than a week. Morgan had equalsuccess. --It was never decided which Company was first filled--

"These Companies being thus unexpectedly called for it was a difficulttask to obtain rifles of the quality required & we were detained atShepherds Town nearly six weeks before we could obtain such. YourFather and some of his Bosom Companions were among the firstenrolled. My Brother, G. M. B. , and myself, with many of ourCompanions, soon joined to the amount of 100--no more could bereceived. The Committee of Safety had appointed Wm Henshaw as 1stLieut. , George Scott 2nd, and Thomas Hite as 3rd Lieut to thisCompany, this latter however, declined accepting, and Abraham Shepherdsucceeded as 3d Lieut--all the rest Stood on an equal footing as_Volunteers_--We remained at Shepherds Town untill the 16th Julybefore we could be Completely armed, notwithstanding the utmostexertions. In the mean time your Father obtained from the gunsmith aremarkable neat light rifle, the stock inlaid and ornamented withsilver, which he held, untill Compelled, as were all of us--to groundour arms and surrender to the enemy on the evening of the 16th day ofNovember 1776. 

"In our Company were many young men of Considerable fortune, & whogenerally entered from patriotic motives ... Our time of service beingabout to expire Captain Hugh Stephenson was commissioned a Colonel;Moses Rawlings a Lieutenant Colonel, and Otho Williams Major, to raisea Rifle Regiment for three years: four companies to be raised inVirginia and four in Maryland. 

"Henshaw and Scott chose to return home. Abraham Shepherd wascommissioned Captain, Sam'l Finley First Lieutenant, William KellySecond Lieutenant, and myself 3rd Lieutenant. The Commissions of theField Officers were dated the 8th July, 1776, & those of our Companythe 9th of the same month. Shepherd, Finley and myself weredispatched to Berkeley to recruit and refill the old Company, which weperformed in about five weeks. Col'o Stephenson also returned toVirginia to facilitate the raising the additional Companies. Whileactively employed in August, 1776, he was taken sick, and in four daysdied. The command of the Regiment devolved on Lieutenant Colonel MosesRawlings, a Very worthy and brave officer. 

"Our Company being filled we Marched early in September to ourRendezvous at Bergen. So soon as the Regiment was formed it wasordered up the North River to the English Neighborhood, & in a shorttime ordered to cross the River and assist in the defence of FortWashington, where were about three thousand men under the command ofCol'o Magaw, on New York Island. The enemy in the mean time possessedNew York, and had followed General Washington to the White Plains, from whence, after several partial actions, he returned, andapproached us by the way of King's bridge, with a force of from 8 to12000 Men. Several frigates ran up the Hudson from New York to cut offour intercourse with Fort Lee, a fort on the opposite bank of theNorth River: and by regular approaches invested us on all sides. 

"On the 15th November, 1776, the British General Pattison appearedwith a flag near our Guards, demanding a surrender of Fort Washingtonand the Garrison. Col'o Magaw replied he should defend it to the lastextremity. Pattison declared all was ready to storm the lines andfort, we of course prepared for the Pending contest. 

"At break of day the next morning, the enemy commenced a tremendousCannonade on every side, while their troops advanced. Our Regt. Thoweak, was most advantageously posted by Rawlings and Williams, on aSmall Ridge, about half a mile above Fort Washington. The Ridge ranfrom the North River, in which lay three frigates, towards the EastRiver. A deep Valley divided us from the enemy, their frigatesenfiladed, & their Cannon on the heights behind the advancing troopsplayed incessantly on our party (consisting of Rawling's Regiment, say250 men, and one other company from Maryland, and four companies ofPennsylvania Flying Camp, also for the present commanded by Rawlingsand Williams). 

"The Artillery were endeavoring to clear the hill while their troopscrossing the Valley were ascending it, but without much effect. A fewof our men were killed with Cannon and Grape Shott. Not a Shott wasfired on our side untill the Enemy had nearly gained the Sumit. Thoughat least five times our numbers our rifles brought down so many thatthey gave way several times, but by their overwhelming numbers they atlast succeeded in possessing the summit. Here, however, was greatcarnage, each making every effort to possess and hold so advantageousa position. This obstinacy continued for more than an hour, when theenemy brought up some field pieces, as well as reinforcements. Findingall resistance useless, our Regiment gradually gave way, tho' notbefore Col'o Rawlings, Major Williams, Peter Hanson, Nin Tannehill, and myself were wounded. Lt. Harrison [Footnote: Lieutenant BattailleHarrison of Berkeley County, Va. ] was the only officer of ourRegiment Killed. Hanson and Tannehill were mortally wounded. Thelatter died the same night in the Fort, & Hanson died in New York ashort time after. Capt. A. Shepherd, Lieut. Daniel Cresap and myself, with fifty men, were detailed the day before the action and placed inthe van to receive the enemy as they came up the hill. 

"The Regiment was paraded in line about fifty yards in our rear, readyto support us. Your Father of course on that day, and in the whole ofthe action commanded Shepherd's Company, which performed its dutyadmirably. About two o'clock P. M. The Enemy obtained completepossession of the hill, and former battle-ground. Our troops retreatedgradually from redoubt to redoubt, contesting every inch of ground, still making dreadful Havoc in the ranks of the enemy. We labouredtoo under disadvantages, the wind blew the smoke full in ourfaces. About two o'clock A. Shepherd, being the senior Captain, tookcommand of the Regiment, [Footnote: After Rawlings and Williams weredisabled. ] and by the advice of Col'o Rawlings & Major Williams, gradually retreated from redoubt to redoubt, to & into the fort withthe surviving part of the Regiment. Col'o Rawlings, Major Williams, and Lt Hanson and myself quitted the field together, and retreated tothe fort. I was slightly wounded, tho my right hand was renderedentirely useless. Your Father continued with the regiment until allhad arrived in the fort. It was admitted by all the surviving officersthat he had conducted himself with great gallantry and the utmostpropriety. 

"While we were thus engaged the enemy succeeded much better in everyother quarter, & with little comparative loss. All were driven intothe fort and the enemy began by sundown to break ground within 100yards of the fort. 

"Finding our situation desperate Col'o Magaw dispatched a flag toGen. Howe who Commanded in person, proposing to surrender on certainconditions, which not being agreed to, other terms were proposed andaccepted. The garrison, consisting of 2673 privates, & 210 officers, marched out, grounded arms, and were guarded to the White House thatsame night, but instead of being treated as agreed on, and allowed toretain baggage, clothes, and Side Arms, every valuable article wastorn away from both officers and soldiers: every sword, pistol, everygood hat was seized, even in presence of Brittish officers, & theprisoners were considered and treated as _Rebels_, to the kingand country. On the third day after our surrender we were guarded toNew York, fourteen miles from Fort Washington, where in the evening wereceived some barrels of raw pork and musty spoiled biscuit, being thefirst Morsel of provision we had seen for more than three days. Theofficers were then separated from the soldiers, had articles of parolepresented to us which we signed, placed into deserted houses withoutClothing, provisions, or fire. No officer was permitted to have aservant, but we acted in rotation, carried our Cole and Provisionsabout half a mile on our backs, Cooked as well as we could, and triedto keep from Starving. 

"Our poor Soldiers fared most wretchedly different. They were crowdedinto sugar houses and Jails without blankets or covering; had Verylittle given to them to eat, and that little of the Very worstquality. So that in two months and four days about 1900 of the FortWashington troops had died. The survivors were sent out and receiptedfor by General Washington, and we the officers were sent to LongIsland on parole, and billetted, two in a house, on the familiesresiding in the little townships of Flatbush, New Utrecht, Newlots, and Gravesend, who were compelled to board and lodge us at the rate oftwo dollars per week, a small compensation indeed in the exhaustedstate of that section of country. The people were kind, being mostlyconquered Whigs, but sometimes hard run to provide sustenance fortheir own families, with the addition, generally, of two men who musthave a share of what could be obtained. These people could not havefurnished us but for the advantage of the fisheries, and access at alltimes to the water. Fish, oysters, clams, Eels, and wild fowl couldalways be obtained in their season. 

"We were thus fixed on the inhabitants, but without money, orclothing. Sometimes a companion would receive a few hard dollars froma friend through a flag of truce, which was often shared by others topurchase a pair of shoes or a shirt. 

"While in New York Major Williams received from a friend about fortysilver dollars. He was still down with his wound, but requestedCaptain Shepherd, your Father and myself to come to his room, andthere lent each of us ten Dollars, which enabled each of us topurchase a pair shoes, a shirt, and some other small matters: thisliberality however, gave some offence. Major Williams was aMarylander, and to assist a Virginian, in preference to a Marylander, was a Crime almost unpardonable. It however passed off, as it sohappened there were some refugees in New York from Maryland who hadgenerosity enough to relieve the pressing wants of a few of theirformer acquaintances. 

"We thus lived in want and perfect idleness for years: tho sometimesif Books could be obtained we made out to read: if paper, pen, and inkcould be had we wrote. Also to prevent becoming too feeble weexercised our bodies by playing fives, throwing long bullets, wrestling, running, jumping, and other athletick exercises, in all ofwhich your Father fully participated. Being all nearly on the samefooting as to Clothing and pocket money (that is we seldom had any ofthe latter) we lived on an equality. 

"In the fall of 1777 the Brittish Commander was informed a plan wasforming by a party of Americans to pass over to Long Island and sweepus off, release us from captivity. There were then on the Island aboutthree hundred American officers prisoners. We were of course orderedoff immediately, and placed on board of two large transports in theNorth River, as prison ships, where we remained but about 18 days, butit being Very Cold, and we Confined between decks, the Steam andbreath of 150 men soon gave us Coughs, then fevers, and had we notbeen removed back to our billets I believe One half would have died insix weeks. This is all the imprisonment your----"

The rest of this valuable letter has been, most unfortunately lost, or possibly it was never completed. 

We have given a great deal of it because of its graphic description ofthe men who were captured at Fort Washington, and of the battleitself. Major Bedinger was a dignified, well-to-do, country gentleman;honored and respected by all who knew him, and of unimpeachableveracity. 

CHAPTER III

NAMES OF SOME OF THE PRISONERS OF 1776

As we have seen, the officers fared well in comparison with thewretched privates. Paroled and allowed the freedom of the city, theyhad far better opportunities to obtain the necessities of life. "Ourpoor soldiers fared most wretchedly different, " says Major Bedinger. 

Before we begin, however, to speak of the treatment they received, wemust make some attempt to tell the reader who they were. We wish itwere possible to give the name of every private who died, or ratherwho 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 amemorial to those martyred privates, we have made many efforts toobtain their names. But if the muster rolls of the different companieswho formed the Rifle Regiment, the Pennsylvania Flying Camp, and theother troops captured by the British in the summer and fall of 1776are in existence, we have not been able to find them. 

The records of the Revolution kept in the War Department in Englandhave been searched in vain by American historians. It is said that theProvost Marshal, William Cunningham, destroyed his books, in order toleave 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 theBritish Archives, and, by the kind permission of this Society, were-publish them in the Appendix to this volume. 

Here and there, also, we have obtained a name of one of the braveyoung riflemen who died in torment a hundred times worse, because somuch less swift, than that endured on a memorable occasion in India, when British soldiers were placed, during a single night, into one oftheir own "Black Holes. " But the names of almost all of these ourtortured countrymen are forgotten as completely as their places ofinterment are neglected. 

In the hands of the writer, however, at this time [Footnote: Thismuster roll was lent to the writer by Henry Bedinger Davenport, Esq, adescendant of Major Bedinger] is the pay-roll of one of thesecompanies of riflemen, --that of Captain Abraham Shepherd ofShepherdstown, Virginia. It is in the handwriting of Henry Bedinger, one of the lieutenants of the company. 

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 namedtherein. For this purpose we will first give the list of names, andafterwards attempt to indicate how many of the men died inconfinement, and how many lived to be exchanged. 

MUSTER ROLL

The paper in question, falling to pieces with age, and almostillegible in places, is headed, "An ABSTRACT of the Pay due theOfficers and Privates of the Company of Riflemen belonging to CaptainAbraham Shepherd, being part of a Battalion raised by Colonel HughStevenson, deceased, and afterwards commanded by Lieut Colonel MosesRawlings, in the Continental Service from July 1st, 1776, to October1st, 1778. " The paper gives the dates of enlistment; those who werekilled; those who died; those who deserted; those who were discharged;drafted; made prisoners; "dates until when pay is charged;" "pay permonth;" "amount in Dollars, " and "amount in lawful Money, Pounds, Shillings and pence. " From this account much information can begleaned concerning the members of the company, but we will, for thepresent, content ourselves with giving the muster roll of the company. 

MUSTER ROLL OF CAPTAIN ABRAHAM SHEPHERD'S COMPANY OF RIFLEMEN RAISEDIN 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. 

Privates, William Anderson, Jacob Wine, Richard Neal, Peter Hill, William Waller, Adam Sheetz, James Hamilton, George Taylor, AdamRider, Patrick Vaughan, Peter Hanes, John Malcher, Peter Snyder, Daniel Bedinger, John Barger, William Hickman, Thomas Pollock, BryanTimmons, Thomas Mitchell, Conrad Rush, David Harman, James Aitken, William Wilson, John Wilson, Moses McComesky, Thomas Beatty, JohnGray, Valentine Fritz, Zechariah Bull, William Moredock, CharlesCollins, Samuel Davis, Conrad Cabbage, John Cummins, Gabriel Stevens, Michael Wolf, John Lewis, William Donnelly, David Gilmore, JohnCassody, Samuel Blount, Peter Good, George Helm, William Bogle (orBoyle), John Nixon, Anthony Blackhead, Christian Peninger, CharlesJones, William Case, Casper Myre, George Brown, Benjamin McKnight, Anthony Larkin, William Seaman, Charles Snowden, John Boulden, JohnBlake, Nicholas Russell, Benjamin Hughes, James Brown, James Fox, William Hicks, Patrick Connell, John Holmes, John McSwaine, JamesGriffith, Patrick Murphy, James Aitken. 

Besides the names of this company we can give a few privates of thePennsylvania Flying Camp who are mentioned by Saffel. He adds that, asfar as is known, all of these perished in prison, after inscribingtheir names high up upon the walls. 

SOME PRIVATES OF THE PENNSYLVANIA FLYING CAMP WHO PERISHED IN PRISONIN 1776-7

"Charles Fleming, John Wright, James McKinney, Ebenezer Stille, JacobLeinhart, Abraham Van Gordon, Peter D'Aubert, William Carbury, JohnMcDowell, Wm. McKague, Henry Parker, James Burns, Henry Yepler, BaltusWeigh, 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 thebattle of Long Island and the surrender of Fort Washington, can easilybe obtained. But it is not with these, at present, that we have todo. We have already seen how much better was their treatment than thataccorded to the hapless privates. It is chiefly to commemmorate thesufferings of the private soldier and seaman in the British prisonsthat this account has been written. 

CHAPTER IV

THE PRISONS OF NEW YORK--JONATHAN GILLETT

We will now endeavor to describe the principal places of confinementused by the British in New York during the early years of the war. Lossing, in his Field Book of the Revolution, thus speaks of thesedens of misery: "At the fight around Fort Washington, " he says, "onlyone hundred Americans were killed, while the British loss was onethousand, chiefly Hessians, But the British took a most cruelrevenge. Out of over 2600 prisoners taken on that day, in two months &four days 1900 were killed in the infamous sugar houses and otherprisons in the city. 

"Association of intense horror are linked with the records of theprisons and prison ships of New York. Thousands of captives perishedmiserably of hunger, cold, infection, and in some cases, actualpoison. 

"All the prisoners taken in the battle near Brooklyn in August, 1776and at Fort Washington in November of the same year, were confined inNew York, nearly 4000 in all. The New Jail and the New Bridewell werethe only prisons. The former is the present Hall of Records. Threesugar houses, some dissenting churches, Columbia College, and theHospital were all used as prisons. The great fire in September; thescarcity of provisions; and the cruel conduct of the Provost Marshalall combined to produce intense sufferings among the men, most of whomentered into captivity, strong, healthy, young, able-bodied, theflower of the American youth of the day. 

"Van Cortlandt's Sugar House was a famous (or infamous) prison. Itstood on the northwest corner of Trinity church-yard. 

"Rhinelander's Sugar House was on the corner of William and DuaneStreets. Perhaps the worst of all the New York prisons was the thirdSugar House, which occupied the space on Liberty Street where twobuildings, numbers 34 and 36, now stand. 

"The North Dutch Church on William Street contained 800 prisoners, andthere were perhaps as many in the Middle Dutch Church. The Friends'Meeting House on Liberty and several other buildings erected for theworship of a God of love were used as prisons. 

"The New Jail was made a Provost Prison, and here officers and men ofnote were confined. At one time they were so crowded into thisbuilding, that when they lay down upon the floor to sleep all in therow were obliged to turn over at the same time at the call, 'Turnover! Left! Right!'

"The sufferings of these brave men were largely due to the criminalindifference of Loring, Sproat, Lennox, and other Commissaries of theprisoners. 

"Many of the captives were hanged in the gloom of night without trialand without a semblance of justice. 

"Liberty Street Sugar House was a tall, narrow building five storiesin height, and with dismal underground dungeons. In this gloomy abodejail 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'souting, in the court yard. Inside groups of six stood for ten minutesat a time at the windows for a breath of air. 

"There were no seats; the filthy straw bedding was neverchanged. Every day at least a dozen corpses were dragged out andpitched like dead dogs into the ditches and morasses beyond thecity. Escapes, deaths, and exchange at last thinned theranks. Hundreds left names and records on the walls. "

"In 1778 the hulks of decaying ships were moored in theWallabout. These prison ships were intended for sailors and seamantaken on the ocean, mostly the crews of privateersmen, but somesoldiers were also sent to languish in their holds. 

"The first vessels used were transports in which cattle and otherstores had been brought over by the British in 1776. These lay inGravesend Bay and there many of the prisoners taken in battle nearBrooklyn in August, 1776, were confined, until the British tookpossession of New York, when they were moved to that city. In 1778 thehulks of ships were moored in the Wallabout, a sheltered bay on theLong Island shore, where the Navy Yard now is. "

The sufferings of the prisoners can be better understood by givingindividual instances, and wherever this is possible it shall bedone. We will commence by an abstract of

THE CASE OF JONATHAN GILLETT OF WEST HARFORD

This man with seven others was captured on Long Island on the 27th ofAugust, 1776, before they could take to their boats. He was at firstconfined in a prison ship, but a Masonic brother named John Archerprocured him the liberty of the city on parole. His rank, we believe, was that of a lieutenant. He was a prisoner two years, then wasallowed to go home to die. He exhibited every symptom of poison aswell 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 forMr. John Archer, a man with whom I boarded. He will assist you. "

In course of time his son enlisted, was taken prisoner, and confinedin the Old Sugar House on Liberty Street. Here he was nearly starvedto death. The prisoners ate mice, rats, and insects. He one day foundin the prison yard the dry parings of a turnip which seemed to him adelicious banquet. It is recorded that Jonathan Gillett, Jr. , wasfinally freed from captivity through the efforts of the samegentleman, Mr. John Archer, who had aided his father. 

In 1852 Jacob Barker offered to present survivors who had beenconfined in the Old Sugar House with canes made from the lumber usedin its construction. Four of these survivors were found. Their nameswere William Clark, Samuel Moulton, Levi Hanford, and JonathanGillett, Jr. The latter's father during his confinement wrote a letterto his friends which has been preserved, and is as follows:

My Friends, No doubt my misfortunes have reached your ears. Sad as it is, it istrue as sad. I was made prisoner the 27th day of August past by apeople called heshens, and by a party called Yagers the most Inhumanof all Mortals. I can't give Room to picture them here but thusmuch--I at first Resolved not to be taken, but by the Impertunity ofthe Seven taken with me, and being surrounded on all sides I unhapilysurendered; would to God I never had--then I should never (have) knownthere unmerciful cruelties; they first disarmed me, then plundered meof all I had, watch, Buckles, money, and sum Clothing, after whichthey abused me by bruising my flesh with the butts of there(guns). They knocked me down; I got up and they (kept on) beating mealmost all the way to there (camp) where I got shot of them--the nextthing was I was allmost starved to death by them. I was keept here 8days 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 the20th day of November, after which I have had my liberty to walk partover the City between sun and sun, notwithstanding there generousallowance of food I must inevitably have perished with hunger had notsum friends in this (city) Relieved my extreme necessity, but I cantexpect they can always do it--what I shall do next I know not, beingnaked for clothes and void of money, and winter present, andprovisions very skerce; fresh meat one shilling per pound, Butterthree shillings per pound, Cheese two shillings, Turnips and potatoesat a shilling a half peck, milk 15 Coppers per quart, bread equally asdear; 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 inthis letter except to fill up some blanks and to add a few marks ofpunctuation. ]

"I was after put on board siezed violently with the disentarry--itfollowed me hard upwards of six weeks--after that a slow fever, butnow am vastly better * * * my sincere love to you and my children. MayGod keep and preserve you at all times from sin, sickness, and death ** * I will Endeavor to faintly lead you into the poor cituation thesoldiers are in, espechally those taken at Long Island where I was; infact these cases are deplorable and they are Real objects ofpitty--they are still confined and in houses where there is nofire--poor mortals, with little or no clothes--perishing with hunger, offering eight dollars in paper for one in silver to Relieve theredistressing hunger; occasioned for want of food--there natures arebroke and gone, some almost loose there voices and some therehearing--they are crouded into churches & there guarded night andday. I cant paint the horable appearance they make--it is shocking tohuman nature to behold them. Could I draw the curtain from before you;there expose to your view a lean Jawd mortal, hunger laid his skinnyhand (upon him) and whet to keenest Edge his stomach cravings, sorounded with tattred garments, Rotten Rags, close beset withunwelcome vermin. Could I do this, I say, possable I might in some(small) manner fix your idea with what appearance sum hundreds ofthese poor creatures make in houses where once people attempted toImplore God's Blessings, &c, but I must say no more of therecalamities. God be merciful to them--I cant afford them no Relief. IfI had money I soon would do it, but I have none for myself. --I wroteto you by Mr. Wells to see if some one would help me to hard moneyunder my present necessity I write no more, if I had the General wouldnot allow it to go out, & if ever you write to me write very short orelse I will never see it--what the heshens robbed me of that dayamounted to the value of seventy two dollars at least. * * * I willgive you as near an exact account of how many prisoners the enemy havetaken as I can. They took on Long Island of the Huntingon Regiment 64, and of officers 40, of other Regiments about 60. On Moulogin Island14, Stratton Island (Staten) 7, at Fort Washington 2200 officers andmen. On the Jersey side about 28 officers and men. In all 3135 and howmany killed I do not know. Many died of there wounds. Of those thatwent out with me of sickness occasioned by hunger eight and more lieat the point of death. 

"Roger Filer hath lost one of his legs and part of a Thigh, it was hisleft. John Moody died here a prisoner. 

"So now to conclude my little Ragged History * * * I as you know didever impress on your mind to look to God, for so still I continue todo the same--think less of me but more of your Creator, * * * So inthis I wish you well and bid you farewell and subscribe myself yournearest friend and well wisher for Ever

John'a Gillett

New York, Dec. 2nd, 1776. To Eliza Gillett at West Harford

The figures given in this pathetic letter may be inaccurate, but thedescription of the sufferings of the prisoners is unexaggerated. Ofall the places of torment provided for these poor men the churchesseem to have been the worst, and they were probably the scenes of themost brutal cruelty that was inflicted upon these unfortunate beingsby the wicked and heartless men, in whose power they found themselves. Whether it was because the knowledge that they were thus desecratingbuildings dedicated to the worship of God and instruction in theChristian duties of mercy and charity, had a peculiarly hardeningeffect upon the jailers and guards employed by the British, or whetherit was merely because of their unfitness for human habitation, the menconfined in these buildings perished fast and miserably. We cannotassert that no prisoners shut up in the churches in New York lived totell the awful tale of their sufferings, but we do assert that in allour researches we have never yet happened upon any record of a singleinstance of a survivor living to reach his home. All the informationwe have gained on this subject we shall lay before the reader, andthen he may form his own opinion of the justice of these remarks. 

CHAPTER V

WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM, THE PROVOST MARSHAL

We will condense all that we have to say of this man, whose crueltyand wickedness are almost inconceivable, into one chapter, and havedone with the dreadful subject. As far as we have been able to learn, the facts about his life are the following. 

William Cunningham was an Irishman, born in Dublin Barracks in1738. His father was a trumpeter in the Blue Dragoons. When he wassixteen he became an assistant to the riding-master of the troop. In1761 he was made a sergeant of dragoons, but peace having beenproclaimed the following year, the company to which he belonged wasdisbanded. He afterwards commenced the business of a scaw-banker, which means that he went about the country enticing mechanics andrustics to ship to America, on promise of having their fortunes madein that country; and then by artful practices, produced theirindentures as servants, in consequence of which on their arrival inAmerica they were sold, or at least obliged to serve a term of yearsto pay for their passage. This business, no doubt, proved a fitapprenticeship for the career of villainy before him. 

About the year 1774 he appears to have embarked from Newry in the shipNeedham for New York, with some indentured servants he had kidnappedin Ireland. He is said to have treated these poor creatures socruelly on the passage that they were set free by the authorities inNew York upon their arrival. 

When Cunningham first appeared in New York he offered himself as ahorse-breaker, and insinuated himself into the favor of the Britishofficers by blatant toryism. He soon became obnoxious to the Whigs ofthat city, was mobbed, and fled to the Asia man-of-war forprotection. From thence he went to Boston, where General Gageappointed him Provost Marshal. When the British took possession of NewYork he followed them to that city, burning with desire to be revengedupon the Whigs. 

He is said to have compassed the death of thousands of prisoners byselling their provisions, exchanging good for spoiled food, and evenby poisoning them. Many also fell victims to his murderous violence. About two hundred and fifty of these poor creatures were taken out oftheir places of confinement at midnight and hung, without trial, simply to gratify his bloodthirsty instincts. Private execution wasconducted in the following manner. A guard was first dispatched fromthe Provost, about midnight, to the upper barracks, to order thepeople on the line of march to shut their window shutters and put outtheir lights, forbidding them at the same time to presume to look outof their windows on pain of death. After this the prisoners weregagged, and conducted to the gallows just behind the upper barracksand hung without ceremony there. Afterwards they were buried by hisassistant, who was a mulatto. 

This practice is said to have been stopped by the women along the lineof march from the Provost to the barracks. They appealed to GeneralHowe to prevent further executions, as the noise made by the suffererspraying for mercy, and appealing to Heaven for justice was dreadful totheir ears. 

It would seem from this account that, although the wretched men weregagged as they were conveyed along the streets, their ferociousmurderer could not deny himself the pleasure of hearing their shrieksof agony at the gallows. 

Watson, in his "Annals of New York, " says that Cunningham glutted hisvengence by hanging five or six of his prisoners every night, untilthe women who lived in the neighborhood petitioned Howe to have thepractice discontinued. 

A pamphlet called "The Old Martyrs' Prison, " says of Cunningham: "Hishatred of the Americans found vent in torture by searing irons andsecret scourges to those who fell under the ban of his displeasure. The prisoners were crowded together so closely that many fell ill frompartial asphyxiation, and starved to death for want of the food whichhe sold to enrich himself. "

They were given muddy and impure water to drink, and that not insufficient 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, orboth, were usually spoiled and most unwholesome. 

Cunningham's quarters were in the Provost Prison, and on the righthand of the main door of entry. On the left of the hall was the guardroom. 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 weregrated, barred, 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, andquestioned as to his name, age, size, rank, etc. , all of which wasentered in a record book. These records appear to have been discreetlydestroyed by the British authorities. 

"At the bristling of arms, unbolting of locks and bars, clanking ofenormous iron chains in a vestibule dark as Erebus, the unfortunatecaptive might well sink under this infernal sight and parade oftyrannical power, as he crossed the threshold of that door whichprobably closed on him for life. 

"The north east chamber, turning to the left on the second floor, wasappropriated to officers of superior rank, and was called CongressHall. * * * In the day time the packs and blankets used by theprisoners to cover them were suspended around the walls, and everyprecaution was taken to keep the rooms clean and well ventilated. 

"In this gloomy abode were incarcerated at different periods manyAmerican officers and citizens of distinction, awaiting with sickeninghope the protracted period of their liberation. Could these dumb wallsspeak what scenes of anguish might they not disclose!

"Cunningham and his deputy were enabled to fare sumptuously by dint ofcurtailing the prisoners' rations, selling good for bad provisions, etc. , in order to provide for the drunken orgies that usuallyterminated his dinners. Cunningham would order the rebel prisoners toturn out and parade for the amusement of his guests, pointing them outwith such characterizations as 'This is the d----d rebel, EthanAllen. This is a rebel judge, etc. '"

Cunningham destroyed Nathan Hale's last letters containing messages tohis loved ones, in order, as he said, that "the rebels should not knowthat they had a man in their army who could die with such firmness. "

From Elias Boudinot's "Journal of Events" during the Revolution weextract the following account of his interview with Cunningham in NewYork. "In the spring of 1777 General Washington wrote me a letterrequesting me to accept of a Commission as Commissary General ofPrisoners in the Army of America. I waited on him and politelydeclined the task, urging the wants of the Prisoners and havingnothing to supply them. "

Washington, however, urged him not to refuse, saying that if no one inwhom he could trust would accept the office, the lot of the prisonerswould be doubly hard. At last Boudinot consented to fill the positionas best he could, and Washington declared that he should be suppliedwith funds by the Secret Committee of Congress. "I own, " he says, "that after I had entered on my department, the applications of thePrisoners were so numerous, and their distress so urgent, that Iexerted every nerve to obtain supplies, but in vain--Excepting £600 Ihad received from the Secret Committee in Bills of exchange, at myfirst entrance into the Office--I could not by any means get afarthing more, except in Continental Money, which was of no avail inNew York. I applied to the General describing my delicate Situationand the continual application of the Officers, painting their extremedistress and urging the assurance they had received that on myappointment I was to be furnished with adequate means for their fullrelief. The General appeared greatly distressed and assured me that itwas out of his power to afford me any supplies. I proposed drainingClothing from the public stores, but to this he objected as not havinganything like a sufficient supply for the Army. He urged myconsidering and adopting the best means in my power to satisfy thenecessities of the Prisoners, and he would confirm them. I told him Iknew 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 desirablepurpose. He greatly encouraged me to the attempt, promising me thatif I finally met with any loss, he would divide it with me. On this Ibegan to afford them some supplies of Provisions over and above whatthe Enemy afforded them, which was very small and very indifferent. 

"The complaints of the very cruel treatment our Prisoners met with inthe Enemy's lines rose to such a Heighth that in the Fall of thisYear, 1777 the General wrote to General Howe or Clinton reciting theircomplaints and proposing to send an Officer into New York to examineinto the truth of them. This was agreed to, and a regular pass-portreturned accordingly. The General ordered me on this service. Iaccordingly went over on the 3rd of Feb. 1778, in my own Sloop. "

The Commandant at this time was General Robertson, by whom Boudinotwas very well treated, and allowed, in company with a British officer, to visit the prisons. He continues: "Accordingly I went to the Provostwith the Officer, where we found near thirty Officers from Colonelsdownwards, in close confinement in the Gaol in New York. After someconversation with the late Ethan Allen, I told him my errand, on whichhe was very free in his abuse of the British. *** We then proceededupstairs to the Room of their Confinement. I had the Officers drawn upin a Ring and informed them of my mission, that I was determined tohear nothing in secret. That I therefore hoped they would each of themin their turn report to me faithfully and candidly the Treatment theyseverally had received, --that my design was to obtain them the properredress, but if they kept back anything from an improper fear of theirkeepers, they would have themselves only to blame for their want ofimmediate redress. That for the purpose of their deliverance theBritish officer attended. That the British General should be also wellinformed of the Facts. On this, after some little hesitation from adread of their keeper, the Provost Martial, one of them began andinformed us that * * * some had been confined in the Dungeon for anight to await the leisure of the General to examine them and forgotfor months; for being Committee men, &c, &c. That they had receivedthe most cruel Treatment from the Provost Martial, being locked up inthe Dungeon on the most trifling pretences, such as asking for morewater to drink on a hot day than usual--for sitting up a little longerin the Evening than orders allowed--for writing a letter to theGeneral making their Complaints of ill-usage and throwing (it) out ofthe Windows. That some of them were kept ten, twelve, and fourteenweeks in the Dungeon on these trifling Pretenses. A Captain Vandykehad been confined eighteen months for being concerned in setting fireto the City, When, on my calling for the Provost Books, it appearedthat he had been made Prisoner and closely confined in the Provostfour days before the fire happened. A Major Paine had been confinedeleven months for killing a Captain Campbell in the Engagement when hewas taken Prisoner, when on examination it appeared that the Captainhad been killed in another part of the Action. The charge was thatMajor Paine when taken had no commission, though acknowledged by us asa Major. 

"Most of the cases examined into turned out wholly false or tootrifling to be regarded. It also appeared by the Declaration of someof the Gentlemen that their water would be sometimes, as the Capriceof the Provost Martial led him, brought up to them in the tubs theyused in their Rooms, and when the weather was so hot that they mustdrink or perish. On hearing a number of these instances of Cruelty, Iasked who was the Author of them--they answered the provost keeper--Idesired the Officer to call him up that we might have him face toface. He accordingly came in, and on being informed of what hadpassed, he was asked if the complaints were true. He, with greatInsolence answered that every word was true--on which the BritishOfficer, abusing him very much, asked him how he dared to treatGentlemen in that cruel Manner. He, insolently putting his hands tohis side, swore that he was as absolute there as General Howe was atthe head of his Army. I observed to the Officer that now there couldbe no dispute about Facts, as the fellow had acknowledged every wordto be true. I stated all the Facts in substance and waited again onGeneral Robertson, who hoped I was quite satisfied with the falsity ofthe reports I had heard. I then stated to him the Facts and assuredhim that they turned out worse than anything we had heard. On hishesitating as to the truth of this assertion--I observed to him thepropriety of having an Officer with me, to whom I now appealed for thetruth of the Facts. He being present confirmed them--on which theGeneral expressed great dissatisfaction, and promised that the Authorof them should be punished. I insisted that the Officers should bedischarged from his Power on Parole on Long Island, as other Officerswere--To this after receiving from me a copy of the Facts I had takendown, he assented, & all were discharged except seven, who weredetained some time before I could obtain their release. I forgot tomention that one Officer, Lieutenant--was taken Prisoner and broughtin with a wound through the leg. He was sent to the Provost to beexamined, next night he was put into the Dungeon and remained thereten weeks, totally forgotten by the General, and never had his wounddressed except as he washed it with a little Rum and Water given tohim by the Centinels, through the--hole out of their ownrations. Captain--and a Captain Chatham were confined with them andtheir allowance was four pounds hard spoiled Biscuit, and two poundsPork per week, which they were obliged to eat raw. While they werethus confined for the slightest Complaints, the Provost Martial wouldcome down and beat them unmercifully with a Rattan, and Knock themdown with his fist. After this I visited two Hospitals of our SickPrisoners, and the Sugar House:--in the two first were 211 Prisoners, and in the last about 190. They acknowledged that for about twomonths past they fared pretty well, being allowed two pounds of goodBeef and a proportion of flour or Bread per week, by Mr. Lewis, MyAgent, over and above the allowance received from the British, whichwas professed to be two thirds allowance; but before they had sufferedmuch from the small allowance they had received, and and that theirBread was very bad, being mostly biscuit, but that the Britishsoldiers made the same complaint as to the bread. From every account Ireceived I found that their treatment had been greatly changed for thebetter within a few months past, except at the Provost. They allagreed that previous to the capture of General Burgoyne, and for sometime after, Their treatment had been cruel beyond measure. That thePrisoners in the French church, amounting on an average to three orfour hundred, could not all lay down at once, that from the 15thOctober to the first January they never received a single stick ofwood, and that for the most part they eat their Pork Raw, when thePews and Door, and Wood on Facings failed them for fuel. 

"But as to my own personal knowledge I found General Robertson veryready to agree to every measure for alleviating the miseries of Warand very candidly admitted many faults committed by the inferiorOfficers, and even the mistakes of the General himself, by hearkeningto the representations of those around him. He showed me a letterfrom General Howe who was in Philadelphia, giving orders that weshould not be at liberty to purchase blankets within their lines, andcontaining a copy of an order I had issued that they should notpurchase provisions within ours, by way of retaliation, but herepresented it as if my order was first. I stated the facts to GeneralRobertson, who assured me that General Howe had been imposed upon, andrequested me to state the facts by way of letter, when he immediatelywrote to General Howe, urging the propriety of reversing his orders, which afterwards he did in a very hypocritical manner as will appearhereafter. "

It does not seem that Cunningham was very seriously punished. It isprobable that he was sent away from New York to Philadelphia, then inthe hands of General Howe. Cunningham was Provost Marshal in that cityduring the British occupancy, where his cruelties were, if possible, more astrocious than ever before. 

Dr. Albigense Waldo was a surgeon in the American army at ValleyForge, and he declares in his Journal concerning the prisoners inPhiladelphia that "the British did not knock the prisoners in thehead, or burn them with torches, or flay them alive, or dismember themas savages do, but they starved them slowly in a large and prosperouscity. 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 thehand, before he expired. Others ate the mortar and stone which theychipped from the prison walls, while some were found with bits of woodand clay in their mouths, which in their death agonies they had suckedto find nourishment. " [Footnote: This account is quoted by Mr. Boltonin a recent book called "The Private Soldier under Washington, " avaluable contribution to American history. ]

Boudinot has something to say about these wretched sufferers in theCity of Brotherly Love during the months of January and February, 1778. "Various Reports having reached us with regard to the ExtremeSufferings of our Prisoners in Philadelphia, I was directed by theCommander-in-Chief to make particular inquiry into the truth. Aftersome time I obtained full Information of their Sufferings. It wasproved by some Militia of good Character that on being taken they wereput under the care of the General's Guard, and kept four or five dayswithout the least food. That on the fifth day they were taken into theProvost, where a small quantity of Raw Pork was given to them. One oftheir number seized and devoured it with so much eagerness that hedropped down dead:--that the Provost Martial used to sell theirprovisions and leave them to starve, as he did their Allowance ofWood. I received information from a British Officer who confided in myintegrity, that he happened in the Provost just at the time theProvost Martial was locking up the Prisoners. He had ordered them fromthe Yard into the House. Some of them being ill with the Dysenterycould scarcely walk, and for not coming faster he would beat them withhis Rattan. One being delayed longer than the rest. On his coming upCunningham gave him a blow with one of the large Keys of the Goalwhich killed him on the Spot. The Officer, exceedingly affected withthe sight, went next day and lodged a formal Complaint of the Murderwith General Howe's Aid. After waiting some days, and not discoveringany measures taken for the tryal of Cunningham, he again went to headquarters and requested to see the General, but was refused. Herepeated his Complaint to his Aid, and told him if this passedunpunished it would become disreputable to wear a British uniform. Nonotice being taken the Officer determined to furnish me privately withthe means of proof of the Facts, so that General Washington mightremonstrate to General Howe on the subject:--I reported them with theother testimony I had collected to General Washington. He accordinglywrote in pretty strong Terms to General Howe and fixed a day, when ifhe did not receive a satisfactory answer, he would retaliate on theprisoners in his Custody. On the day he received an answer fromGeneral Howe, acknowledging that, on Examination he found thatCunningham had sold the Prisoners' rations publicly in theMarket. That he had therefor removed him from the Charge of thePrisoners and appointed Mr. Henry H. Ferguson in his place. This gaveus great pleasure as we knew Mr. Ferguson to be a Gentleman ofCharacter and great Humanity, and the issue justified ourexpectations. But to our great surprise Mr. Cunningham was onlyremoved from the Charge of the Prisons in Philadelphia, and sent tothat of New York. Soon after this great complaints being made of ourPrisoners 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 provisionswhich the British wanted, ) Blankets and cloathing, which should beused only by the Prisoners while in Confinement. This was agreed to, as we were informed by our own Agent as well as by the BritishCommissioner. Provisions were accordingly attempted to be sent in, when General Howe pretending to ignorance in the business, forbid theprovisions to be admitted, or the Blankets to be purchased. On this Igave notice to the British Commissary that after a certain day theymust provide food for their prisoners south west of New Jersey, and tobe sent in from their lines, as they should no longer be allowed topurchase provisions with us. The line drawn arose from our being atliberty to purchase in New York. This made a great noise, when GeneralHowe on receiving General Robertson's letter from New York beforementioned, urging the propriety of the measures, issued an order thatevery Person in Philadelphia, who had a Blanket to sell or to spareshould bring them into the King's Stores. When this was done he thengave my Agent permission to purchase Blankets and Cloathing, in theCity of Philadelphia. On my Agent attempting it he found everyBlanket in the City purchased by the Agents for the Army, so that nota Blanket could be had. My Agent knowing the necessities of ourPrisoners, immediately employed persons in every part of the city andbefore General Howe could discover his own omission, purchased upevery piece of flannel he could meet with, and made it up into a kindof Blanket, which answered our purpose. "

Wherever General Howe and Cunningham were together, either in New Yorkor in Philadelphia, the most atrocious cruelties were inflicted uponthe American prisoners in their power, and yet some have endeavouredto excuse General Howe, on what grounds it is difficult todetermine. It has been said that Cunningham _acted on higherauthority than any in America_, and that Howe in vain endeavored tomitigate the sufferings of the prisoners. This, however, is not easyof belief. Howe must at least have wilfully blinded himself to thewicked and murderous violence of his subordinate. It was his duty toknow how the prisoners at his mercy fared, and not to employ murderersto destroy them by the thousands as they were destroyed in the prisonsof New York and Philadelphia. 

Oliver Bunce, in His "Romance of the Revolution, " thus speaks of theinhumanity of Cunningham. 

"But of all atrocities those committed in the prisons and prison shipsof New York are the most execrable, and indeed there is nothing inhistory to excel the barbarities there inflicted. Twelve thousandsuffered death by their inhuman, cruel, savage, and barbarous usage onboard the filthy and malignant prison ships--adding those who diedand were poisoned in the infected prisons in the city a much largernumber would be necessary to include all those who suffered by commandof British Generals in New York. The scenes enacted in these prisonsalmost exceed belief. * * * Cunningham, the like of whom, forunpitying, relentless cruelty, the world has not produced, * * *thirsted for blood, and took an eager delight in murder. "

He remained in New York until November, 1783, when he embarked onboard a British man-of-war and America was no longer cursed with hispresence. He is said to have been hung for the crime of forgery on thetenth of August, 1791. The newspapers of the day contained theaccounts of his death, and his dying confession. These accounts have, however, been discredited by historians who have in vain sought theEnglish records for the date of his death. It is said that no man ofthe name of Cunningham was hung in England in the year 1791. It is notpossible to find any official British record of his transactions whileProvost Marshal, and there seems a mystery about the disappearance ofhis books kept while in charge of the Provost, quite as great as themystery which envelopes his death. But whether or no he confessed hismany crimes; whether or no he received in this world a portion of thepunishment he deserved, it is certain that the crimes were committed, and duly recorded in the judgment book of God, before whose awful barhe has been called to account for every one of them. 

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 subjectof our prisoners during the Revolution, we will endeavor to followsome chronological order, so that we may carry the story on month bymonth and year by year until that last day of the British possessionof New York when Sergeant O'Keefe threw down upon the pavement of theProvost the keys of that prison, and made his escape on board aBritish man-of-war. 

One of the prisoners taken on Long Island in the summer of 1776 wasCaptain Jabez Fitch, who was captured on the 27th of August, of thatyear. While a prisoner he contracted a scorbutic affection whichrendered miserable thirty years of his life. 

On the 29th of August he was taken to the transport Pacific. It was avery rainy day. The officers, of whom there were about twenty-five, were in one boat, and the men "being between three and four hundred inseveral other Boats, and had their hands tied behind them. In thisSituation we were carried by several Ships, where there appeared greatnumbers of Women on Deck, who were very liberal of their Curses andExecrations: they were also not a little Noisy in their Insults, butclap'd their hands and used other peculiar gestures in soExtraordinary a Manner yet they were in some Danger of leapingoverboard in this surprising Extacy. " On arriving at the Pacific, avery large transport ship, they were told that all officers and mentogether were to be shut down below deck. The master of the ship was abrute named Dunn. At sundown all were driven down the hatches, withcurses and execrations. "Both ye lower Decks were very full of Durt, "and the rains had leaked in and made a dreadful sloppy mess of thefloor, so that the mud was half over their shoes. At the same timethey were so crowded that only half their number could lie down at atime. 

"Some time in the Evening a number of the Infernal Savages came downwith 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 yedeck where our people lay, telling us at ye same time with many Cursesyt in Case of any Disturbance or the least noise in ye Night, theywere to be Imediately fired on ye Damned Rebels. " When allowed to comeon deck "we were insulted by those Blackguard Villians in the mostvulgar manner.... We were allowed no water that was fit for a Beast toDrink, although they had plenty of good Water on board, which was usedplentifully by the Seamen, etc. 

"Lieutenant Dowdswell, with a party of Marines sent on board for ourGuard; this Mr. Dowdswell treated us with considerable humanity, andappeared to be a Gentleman, nor were the Marines in General soInsolent as the Ships Crew.... On the 31st the Commissary of Prisonerscame on Board and took down the names, etc, of the prisoners.... Hetold us Colonel Clark and many other Officers were confined atFlatbush. On Sunday, September 1st, we were removed to the ship LordRochford, commanded by one Lambert. This ship was much crowded. Mostof the Officers were lodged on the quarter deck. Some nights we wereconsiderably wet with rain. "

The Lord Rochford lay off New Utrecht. On the third of September theofficers that had been confined at Flatbush were brought on board thesnow called the Mentor. "On the fifth, " says Fitch, in his writtenaccount, of which this is an abstract, "we were removed on board thisSnow, which was our prison for a long time. * * * We were about 90 innumber, and ye Field Officers had Liberty of ye Cabbin, etc. * * *This Snow was commanded by one Davis, a very worthless, low-livedfellow. * * * When we first met on board the Mentor we spent aconsiderable time in Relating to each other ye particularCircumstances of our first being Taken, and also ye various Treatmentwith which we met on yt occasion, nor was this a disagreeableEntertainment in our Melancholy Situation. * * * Many of the officersand men were almost Destitute of Clothes, several having neitherBritches, Stockings or Shoes, many of them when first taken werestripped entirely naked. Corporal Raymond of the 17th Regiment afterbeing taken and Stripped was shamefully insulted and Abused by Gen'lDehightler, seized by ye Hair of his head, thrown on the ground, etc. Some present, who had some small degree of humanity in theirComposition, were so good as to favor them (the prisoners) with someold durty worn Garments, just sufficient to cover their nakedness, andin this Situation (they) were made Objects of Ridicule for yeDiversion of those Foreign Butchers. 

"One Sam Talman (an Indian fellow belonging to the 17th Regiment) wasStripped and set up as a mark for them to Shoot at for Diversion orPractice, by which he Received two severe wounds, in the neck and arm* * * afterwards they destroyed him with many hundreds others bystarvation in the prisons of New York. 

"On October first orders came to land the prisoners in New York. Thiswas not done until the seventh. On Monday about four o'clockMr. Loring conducted us to a very large house on the West side ofBroadway in the corner south of Warren Street near Bridewell, where wewere assigned a small yard back of the house, and a Stoop in ye Frontfor our Walk. We were also Indulged with Liberty to pass and Repass toan adjacent pump in Ye Street. "

Although paroled the officers were closely confined in this place forsix weeks. Their provisions, he says: "were insufficient to preserveye Connection between Soul and Body, yet ye Charitable People of thisCity were so good as to afford us very considerable Relief on thisaccount, but it was ye poor and those who were in low circumstancesonly who were thoughtful of our Necessities, and provisions were nowgrown scarce and Excessive dear. * * * Their unparalleled generositywas undoubtedly ye happy means of saving many Lives, notwithstandingsuch great numbers perished with hunger. 

"Here we found a number of Officers made prisoners since we were, Colonel Selden, Colonel Moulton, etc. They were first confined in YeCity Hall. Colonel Selden died the Fryday after we arrived. He wasBuried in the New Brick Churchyard, and most of the Officers wereallowed to attend his Funeral. Dr. Thatcher of the British armyattended him, a man of great humanity. "

Captain Fitch declares that there were two thousand wounded Britishand Hessians in the hospitals in New York after the battle of FortWashington, which is a much larger estimate than we have found inother accounts. He says that the day of the battle was Saturday, November 16th, and that the prisoners were not brought to New Yorkuntil the Monday following. They were then confined in the Bridewell, as the City Jail was then called, and in several churches. Some ofthem were soon afterwards sent on board a prison ship, which wasprobably the Whitby. "A number of the officers were sent to our placeof confinement; Colonel Rawlings, Colonel Hobby, Major (Otho)Williams, etc. Rawlings and Williams were wounded, others were alsowounded, among them Lieutenant Hanson (a young Gent'n from Va. ) whowas Shot through ye Shoulder with a Musq't Ball of which wound he Diedye end of Dec'r. 

"Many of ye charitable Inhabitants were denied admittance when theycame to Visit us. "

On the twentieth of November most of the officers were set at libertyon parole. "Ye first Objects of our attention were ye poor men who hadbeen unhappily Captivated with us. They had been landed about ye sametime yt we were, and confined in several Churches and other largeBuildings and although we had often Received Intelligence from themwith ye most Deplorable Representation of their Miserable Situation, yet when we came to visit them we found their sufferings vastlysuperior to what we had been able to conceive. Nor are wordssufficient to convey an Adequate Idea of their Unparalled Calamity. Well might ye Prophet say, 'They yt be slain with ye sword are betterthan they yt be slain with hunger, for these pine away, etc. '

"Their appearance in general Rather Resembled dead Corpses than livingmen. Indeed great numbers had already arrived at their long home, andye Remainder appeared far advanced on ye same Journey: theiraccommodations were in all respects vastly Inferior to what a NewEngland Farmer would have provided for his Cattle, and although yeCommissary pretended to furnish them with two thirds of ye allowanceof ye King's Troops, yet they were cheated out of one half ofthat. They were many times entirely neglected from Day to Day, andreceived no Provision at all; they were also frequently Imposed uponin Regard to ye Quality as well as Quantity of their provision. Especially in the Necessary article of Bread of which they oftenreceived such Rotten and mouldy stuff, as was entirely unfit for use. 

"* * * A large number of ye most feeble were Removed down to ye QuakerMeeting House on Queen Street, where many hundreds of them perished ina much more miserable Situation than ye dumb Beasts, while those whoseparticular business it was to provide them relief, paid very little orno attention to their unparalleled sufferings. This house I understandwas under ye Superintendence of one Dr. Dibuke * * * who had been atleast once convicted of stealing (in Europe) and had fled to thiscountry for protection: It was said he often made application of hisCane among ye Sick instead of other medicines. * * * I have often beenin danger of being stabbed for attempting to speak to a prisoner in yeyard. * * *

"About the 24th December a large number of prisoners were embarked ona ship to be sent to New England. What privates of the 17th Regimentremained living were Included in this number, but about one half hadalready perished in Prison. I was afterwards informed that the Windsbeing unfavourable and their accommodations and provisions on board yeShip being very similar to what they had been provided with before, alarge 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 nativehomes. 

"Soon after there was large numbers of the prisoners sent off by landboth to the Southward and Eastward so yt when ye Officers were Removedover into Long Island in the latter part of January there remained butvery few of the privates in that City except those released by Deathwhich number was supposed to be about 1800. 

"General Robertson, so famous for Politeness and Humanity wascommanding Officer at New York during the aforesaid treatment of theprisoners. Governor Scheene was said to have visited the prisoners atthe Churches and manifested great dissatisfaction at their ill Usage, yet I was never able to learn that ye poor Sufferers Rec'd anyAdvantage thereby. "

Captain Jabez Fitch was a prisoner eighteen months. After theRevolution he lived in Vermont, where he died in 1812. 

CHAPTER VII

THE HOSPITAL DOCTOR--A TORY'S ACCOUNT OF NEW YORK IN 1777--ETHANALLEN'S ACCOUNT OF THE PRISONERS

The doctor spoken of by Jabez Fitch as Dr. Dibuke is perhaps thenotorious character described by Mr. Elias Boudinot in the Journalfrom which we have already quoted. On page 35 of this book he gives usthe following:

"AN ACCOUNT OF THE FRENCHMAN WHO POISONED. AMERICAN PRISONERS IN NEWYORK, AND WAS REWARDED FOR SO DOING BY GENERAL, HOWE

"When the British Army took possession of New York they found aFrenchman in Goal, under Condemnation for Burglery and Robbery. He wasliberated. He was a very loos, ignorant man. Had been a Servant. Thisfellow was set over our Prisoners in the Hospital, as a Surgeon, though he knew not the least principle of the Art. Dr. McHenry, aPhysician of note in the American Army, and then a Prisoner, findingthe extreme ignorance of this man, and that he was really murderingour people, remonstrated to the British Director of the Hospital, andrefused visiting our sick Prisoners if this man was not dismissed. ABritish Officer, convinced that he had killed several of our People, lodged a complaint against him, when he was ordered to be tryed by aCourt Martial, but the morning before the Court were to set, thisOfficer was ordered off to St Johns, and the Criminal was dischargedfor want of Evidence. During this man having the Charge of ourPrisoners in the Hospital, two of our Men deserted from the Hospitaland came into our Army when they were ordered to me for Examination. They Joined in this story. That they were sick in the Hospital underthe care of the above Frenchman. That he came and examined them, andgave to each of them a dose of Physick to be taken immediately. AYoung Woman, their Nurse, made them some private signs not to take thePhysick immediately. After the Doctor was gone, she told them shesuspected the Powder was poison. That she had several times heard thisFrenchman say that he would have ten Rebels dead in such a Room andfive dead in such a Room the next morning, and it always sohappened. They asked her what they should do: She told them their onlychance was to get off, sick as they were, that she would help them outand they must shift for themselves. They accordingly got off safe, andbrought the Physick with them. This was given to a Surgeon's Mate, whoafterwards reported that he gave it to a Dog, and that he died in avery short time. I afterwards saw an account in a London Paper of thissame Frenchman being taken up in England for some Crime and condemnedto dye. At his Execution he acknowledged the fact of his havingmurdered a great number of Rebels in the Hospitals at New York bypoyson. That on his reporting to General Howe the number of thePrisoners dead, he raised his pay. He further confessed that hepoisoned the wells used by the American Flying Camp, which caused suchan uncommon Mortality among them in the year 1776. "

Jabez Fitch seems to have been mistaken in thinking that GeneralRobertson instead of Lord Howe was commanding in New York at thistime. 

We will now give the account written by a Tory gentleman, who lived inNew York during a part of the Revolution, of Loring, the Commissary ofPrisons, appointed by General Howe in 1776. Judge Thomas Jones was anoted loyalist of the day. Finding it inconvenient to remain in thiscountry after the war, he removed to England, where he died in 1792, having first completed his "History of New York during theRevolution. " He gives a much larger number of prisoners in that cityin the year 1776 than do any of the other authorities. We will, however, give his statements just as they were written. 

"Upon the close of the campaign in 1776 there were not less than10, 000 prisoners (Sailors included) within the British lines in NewYork. A Commissary of Prisoners was therefore appointed, and oneJoshua Loring, a Bostonian, was commissioned to the office with aguinea a day, and rations of all kinds for himself and family. In thisappointment there was reciprocity. Loring had a handsome wife. TheGeneral, Sir William Howe, was fond of her. Joshua made noobjections. He fingered the cash: the General enjoyed Madam. Everybodysupposing the next campaign (should the rebels ever risk another)would put a final period to the rebellion. Loring was determined tomake the most of his commission and by appropriating to his own usenearly two thirds of the rations allowed the prisoners, he actuallystarved to death about three hundred of the poor wretches before anexchange took place, and which was not until February, 1777, andhundreds that were alive at the time were so emaciated and enfeebledfor the want of provisions, that numbers died on the road on their wayhome, and many lived but a few days after reaching theirhabitations. The war continuing, the Commissaryship of Prisoners grewso lucrative that in 1778 the Admiral thought proper to appoint onefor naval prisoners. Upon the French War a Commissary was appointedfor France. When Spain joined France another was appointed forSpain. When Great Britain made war upon Holland a Commissary wasappointed for Dutch prisoners. Each had his guinea a day, and rationsfor himself and family. Besides, the prisoners were half starved, asthe Commissaries filched their provisions, and disposed of them fortheir own use. It is a known fact, also, that whenever an exchangewas to take place the preference was given to those who had, or couldprocure, the most money to present to the Commissaries who conductedthe exchange, by which means large sums of money were unjustlyextorted and demanded from the prisoners at every exchange, to thescandal and disgrace of Britons. We had five Commissaries ofPrisoners, when one could have done all the business. Each Commissaryhad a Deputy, a Clerk, a Messenger in full pay, with rations of everykind. "

As Judge Jones was an ardent Tory we would scarcely imagine that hewould exaggerate in describing the corruptions of the commissaries. Hegreatly deplored the cruelties with which he taxed General Howe andother officials, and declared that these enormities prevented allhopes 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 NewYork, more graphically than any of his contemporaries. 

ETHAN ALLEN'S ACCOUNT OF THE AMERICAN PRISONERS

"Our number, about thirty-four, were all locked up in one common largeroom, without regard to rank, education, or any other accomplishment, where we continued from the setting to the rising sun, and as sundryof them were infected with the gaol and other distempers, thefurniture of this spacious room consisted principally of excrementtubs. We petitioned for a removal of the sick into hospitals, but weredenied. We remonstrated against the ungenerous usage of being confinedwith the privates, as being contrary to the laws and customs ofnations, and particularly ungrateful in them, in consequence of thegentleman-like usage which the British imprisoned officers met with inAmerica; 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 werefive who had a legal claim to a parole, James Lovel, Esq; CaptainFrancis Proctor; a Mr. Rowland, Master of a Continental armed vessel;a Mr. Taylor, his mate, and myself. * * * The prisoners were orderedto go on board of a man-of-war, which was bound for New York, but twoof them were not able to go on board and were left in Halifax: onedied and the other recovered. This was about the 12th of October, 1776. * * * We arrived before New York and cast an anchor the latterpart of October, where we remained several days, and where CaptainSmith informed me that he had recommended me to Admiral Howe, andGeneral Sir Wm. Howe, as a gentleman of honor and veracity, anddesired that I might be treated as such. Captain Burk was then orderedon board a prison ship in the harbor. I took my leave of CaptainSmith, and with the other prisoners was sent on board a transportship. * * * Some of the last days of November the prisoners werelanded at New York, and I was admitted to parole with the otherofficers, viz: Proctor, Rowland, and Taylor. The privates were putinto the filthy churches in New York, with the distressed prisonersthat were taken at Fort Washington, and the second night SergeantRoger Moore, who was bold and enterprising, found means to make hisescape, with every of the remaining prisoners that were taken with me, except three who were soon after exchanged: so that out of thirty-oneprisoners who went with me the round exhibited in these sheets, twoonly died with the enemy, and three only were exchanged, one of whomdied after he came within our lines. All the rest at different timesmade their escape from the enemy. 

"I now found myself on parole, and restricted to the limits of thecity of New York, where I soon projected means to live in some measureagreeable to my rank, though I was destitute of cash. My constitutionwas almost worn out by such a long and barbarous captivity. * * * Inconsequence of a regular diet and exercise my blood recruited, and mynerves in a great measure recovered their former tone * * * in thecourse of six months. 

"* * * Those who had the misfortune to fall into the enemy's hands atFort Washington * * * were reserved from immediate death to famish anddie with hunger: in fine the word rebel' was thought by the enemysufficient to sanctify whatever cruelties they were pleased toinflict, death itself not excepted. * * *

"The prisoners who were brought to New York were crowded intochurches, and environed with slavish Hessian guards, a people of astrange language * * * and at other times by merciless Britons, whosemode of communicating ideas being unintelligible in this countryserved only to tantalize and insult the helpless and perishing; butabove all the hellish delight and triumph of the tories over them, asthey were dying by hundreds. This was too much for me to bear as aspectator; for I saw the tories exulting over the dead bodies of theircountrymen. I have gone into the churches and seen sundry of theprisoners in the agonies of death, in consequence of very hunger; andothers speechless and near death, biting pieces of chips; otherspleading, for God's sake for something to eat, and at the same timeshivering with the cold. Hollow groans saluted my ears, and despairseemed to be imprinted on every of their countenances. The filth inthese churches, in consequence of the fluxes, was almost beyonddescription. I have carefully sought to direct my steps so as toavoid it, but could not. They would beg for God's sake for one copperor morsel of bread. I have seen in one of the churches seven dead, atthe same time, lying among the excrements of their bodies. 

"It was a common practice with the enemy to convey the dead from thesefilthy places in carts, to be slightly buried, and I have seen wholegangs of tories making derision, and exulting over the dead, saying'There goes another load of d----d rebels!' I have observed theBritish soldiers to be full of their blackguard jokes and vaunting onthose occasions, but they seemed to me to be less malignant than theTories. 

"The provision dealt out to the prisoners was by no means sufficientfor the support of life. It was deficient in Quantity, and much moreso in Quality. The prisoners often presented me with a sample oftheir bread, which I certify was damaged to such a degree that it wasloathsome and unfit to be eaten, and I am bold to aver it as myopinion, that it had been condemned and was of the very worst sort. Ihave seen and been fed upon damaged bread, in the course of mycaptivity, and observed the quality of such bread as has beencondemned by the enemy, among which was very little so effectuallyspoiled as what was dealt out to these prisoners. Their allowance ofmeat, as they told me, was quite trifling and of the basest sort. Inever saw any of it, but was informed, bad as it was, it was swallowedalmost as quick as they got hold of it. I saw some of them suckingbones after they were speechless; others who could yet speak and hadthe use of their reason, urged me in the strongest and most patheticmanner, to use my interest in their behalf: 'For you plainly see, 'said they, 'that we are devoted to death and destruction, ' and after Ihad examined more particularly into their truly deplorable conditionand had become more fully apprized of the essential facts, I waspersuaded that it was a premeditated and systematized plan of theBritish council to destroy the youths of our land, with a view therebyto deter the country and make it submit to their despotism: but as Icould not do them any material service, and by any public attempt forthat purpose I might endanger myself by frequenting places the mostnauseous and contagious that could be conceived of, I refrained goinginto the churches, but frequently conversed with such of the prisonersas were admitted to come out into the yard, and found that thesystematical usage still continued. The guard would often drive meaway with their fixed bayonets. A Hessian one day followed me five orsix rods, but by making use of my legs, I got rid of the lubber. 

"Sometimes I could obtain a little conversation notwithstanding theirseverities. 

"I was in one of the yards and it was rumoured among those in thechurch, and sundry of the prisoners came with their usual complaintsto me, and among the rest a large-boned, tall young man, as he told mefrom Pennsylvania, who was reduced to a mere skeleton. He said he wasglad to see me before he died, which he had expected to have done lastnight, but was a little revived. He further informed me that he andhis brother had been urged to enlist into the British army, but hadboth resolved to die first; that his brother had died last night, inconsequence of that resolve, and that he expected shortly to followhim; but I made the other prisoners stand a little off and told himwith a low voice to enlist; he then asked whether it was right in thesight of God? I assured him that it was, and that duty to himselfobliged him to deceive the British by enlisting and deserting thefirst opportunity; upon which he answered with transport that he wouldenlist. I charged him not to mention my name as his adviser, lest itshould get air and I should be closely confined, in consequence of it. 

"The integrity of these suffering prisoners is incredible. Manyhundreds of them, I am confident, submitted to death rather thanenlist in the British service, which, I am informed, they mostgenerally were pressed to do. I was astonished at the resolution ofthe two brothers, particularly; it seems that they could not bestimulated to such exertions of heroism from ambition, as they werebut obscure soldiers. Strong indeed must the internal principle ofvirtue be which supported them to brave death, and one of them wentthrough the operation, as did many hundreds others * * * These thingswill have their proper effect upon the generous and brave. 

"The officers on parole were most of them zealous, if possible, toafford the miserable soldiers relief, and often consulted with oneanother on the subject, but to no effect, being destitute of the meansof subsistence which they needed, nor could they project any measurewhich they thought would alter their fate, or so much as be a mean ofgetting them out of those filthy places to the privilege of freshair. Some projected that all the officers should go in procession toGeneral Howe and plead the cause of the perishing soldiers, but thisproposal was negatived for the following reasons: viz: because thatGeneral Howe must needs be well acquainted and have a thoroughknowledge of the state and condition of the prisoners in every oftheir wretched apartments, and that much more particular and exactthan any officer on parole could be supposed to have, as the Generalhad a return of the circumstances of the prisoners by his own officersevery morning, of the number who were alive, as also of the number whodied every twenty-four hours: and consequently the bill of mortality, as collected from the daily returns, lay before him with all thematerial situations and circumstances of the prisoners, and providedthe officers should go in procession to General Howe, according to theprojection, it would give him the greatest affront, and that he wouldeither retort upon them, that it was no part of their parole toinstruct him in his conduct to prisoners; that they were mutinyingagainst his authority, and, by affronting him, had forfeited theirparole, or that, more probably, instead of saying one word to them, would order them all into as wretched a confinement as the soldierswhom they sought to relieve, for at that time the British, from theGeneral to the private centinel, were in full confidence, nor did theyso much as hesitate, but that they should conquer the country. 

"Thus the consultation of the officers was confounded and broken topieces, in consequence of the dread which at the time lay on theirminds of offending General Howe; for they conceived so murderous atryant would not be too good to destroy even the officers on the leastpretence of an affront, as they were equally in his power with thesoldiers; and as General Howe perfectly understood the condition ofthe private soldiers, it was argued that it was exactly such as he andhis council had devised, and as he meant to destroy them it would beto no purpose for them to try to dissuade him from it, as they werehelpless and liable to the same fate, on giving the leastaffront. Indeed anxious apprehensions disturbed them in their thencircumstances. 

"Meantime mortality raged to such an intolerable degree among theprisoners that the very school boys in the street knew the mentaldesign of it in some measure; at least they knew that they werestarved to death. Some poor women contributed to their necessity tilltheir children were almost starved; and all persons of commonunderstanding knew that they were devoted to the cruellest and worstof deaths. 

"It was also proposed by some to make a written representation of thecondition of the soldiery, and the officers to sign it, and that itshould be couched in such terms, as though they were apprehensive thatthe General was imposed upon by his officers, in their daily returnsto him of the state and condition of the prisoners, and that thereforthe officers moved with compassion, were constrained to communicate tohim the facts relative to them, nothing doubting but that they wouldmeet with a speedy redress; but this proposal was most generallynegatived also, and for much the same reason offered in the othercase; for it was conjectured that General Howe's indignation would bemoved against such officers as should attempt to whip him over hisofficers' backs; that he would discern that he himself was reallystruck at, and not the officers who made the daily returns; andtherefor self preservation deterred the officers from eitherpetitioning or remonstrating to General Howe, either verbally or inwriting; as also they considered that no valuable purpose to thedistressed would be obtained. 

"I made several rough drafts on the subject, one of which I exhibitedto the Colonels Magaw, Miles, and Atlee; and they said that they wouldconsider the matter. Soon after I called on them, and some of thegentlemen informed me that they had written to the General on thesubject, and I concluded that the gentlemen thought it best that theyshould write without me, as there was such spirited aversionsubsisting between the British and me. "

Ethan Allen goes on to say: "Our little army was retreating in NewJersey and our young men murdered by hundreds in New York. " He thenspeaks of Washington's success at Trenton in the following terms:"This success had a mighty effect on General Howe and his council, androused them to a sense of their own weakness. * * * Their obduracy anddeath-designing malevolence in some measure abated or wassuspended. The prisoners, who were condemned to the most wretched andcruellest of deaths, and who survived to this period, _though mostof them died before, _ were immediately ordered to be sent withinGeneral Washington's lines, for an exchange, and in consequence of itwere taken out of their filthy and poisonous places of confinement, and sent out of New York to their friends in haste. Several of themfell dead in the streets of New York, as they attempted to walk to thevessels in the harbor, for their intended embarkation. What numberlived to reach the lines I cannot ascertain, but, from concurrentrepresentations which I have since received from numbers of people wholived in and adjacent to such parts of the country, where they werereceived from the enemy, _I apprehend that most of them died inconsequence of the vile usage of the enemy. _ Some who were eyewitnesses of the scene of mortality, more especially in that partwhich continued after the exchange took place, are of opinion that itwas partly in consequence of a slow poison; but this I refer to thedoctors who attended them, who are certainly the best judges. 

"Upon the best calculation I have been able to make from personalknowledge, and the many evidences I have collected in support of thefacts, I learn that, of the prisoners taken on Long Island and FortWashington and some few others, at different times and places, abouttwo thousand perished with hunger, cold, and sickness, occasioned bythe filth of their prisons, at New York; and a number more on theirpassage to the continental lines; most of the residue who reachedtheir friends having received their death wound, could not be restoredby the assistance of their physicians and friends: but like theirbrother prisoners, fell a sacrifice to the relentless and scientificbarbarity of the British. I took as much pains as the circumstanceswould admit of to inform myself not only of matters of fact, butlikewise 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 thecandid public. "

CHAPTER VIII

THE ACCOUNT OF ALEXANDER GRAYDON

One of the most interesting and best memoirs of revolutionary times isthat written by Alexander Graydon, and as he was taken prisoner atFort Washington, and closely connected with the events in New Yorkduring the winter of 1776-7, we will quote here his account of hiscaptivity. 

He describes the building of Fort Washington in July of 1776 by themen of Magaw's and Hand's regiments. General Putnam was theengineer. It was poorly built for defence, and not adapted for asiege. 

Graydon was a captain in Colonel Shee's Regiment, but, for some reasonor other, Shee went home just before the battle was fought, and histroops were commanded by Cadwallader in his stead. Graydon puts thenumber of privates taken prisoner at 2706 and the officers at about210. Bedinger, as we have already seen, states that there were 2673privates and 210 officers. He was a man of painstaking accuracy, andit is quite probable that his account is the most trustworthy. As oneof the privates was Bedinger's own young brother, a boy of fifteen, whom he undoubtedly visited as often as possible, while Graydon onlywent once to the prisons, perhaps Bedinger had the best opportunitiesfor computing the number of captives. 

Graydon says that Colonel Rawlings was, some time late in the morningof the 16th of November, attacked by the Hessians, when he fought withgreat gallantry and effect as they were climbing the heights, untilthe arms of the riflemen became useless from the foulness theycontracted from the frequent repetition of their fire. 

Graydon, himself, becoming separated from his own men, mistook a partyof Highlanders for them, and was obliged to surrender to them. He wasput under charge of a Scotch sergeant, who said to him and hiscompanion, Forrest: "Young men, ye should never fight against yourKing!"

Just then a British officer rode up at full gallop exclaiming, "What!taking prisoners! Kill them, Kill every man of them!"

"My back was towards him when he spoke, " says Graydon, "and althoughby this time there was none of that appearance of ferocity in theguard which would induce much fear that they would execute hiscommand, 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!'

"No man was ever more effectually rebuked. His manner was instantlysoftened; he met my salutation with an inclination of his body, andafter a civil question or two, as if to make amends for his sanguinarymandate, rode off towards the fort, to which he had enquired the way. 

"Though I had delivered up my arms I had not adverted to a cartouchebox which I wore about my waist, and which, having once belonged tohis British Majesty, presented in front the gilded letters, G. R. Exasperated at this trophy on the body of a rebel, one of the soldiersseized the belt with great violence, and in the act to unbuckle it, had nearly jerked me off my legs. To appease the offended loyalty ofthe honest Scot I submissively took it off and handed it to him, beingconscious that I had no longer any right to it. At this moment aHessian came up. He was not a private, neither did he look like aregular 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. Thewretch came near enough to elbow us, and, half unsheathing his sword, with a countenance that bespoke a most vehement desire to use itagainst us, he grunted out in broken English, 'Eh! you rebel! you damnrebel!'

"I had by this time entire confidence in our Scotchmen, and thereforeregarded the caitiff with the same indifference that I should haveviewed a caged wild beast, though with much greater abhorrence. * * *

"We were marched to an old stable, where we found about forty or fiftyprisoners already collected, principally officers, of whom I onlyparticularly recollect Lieutenant Brodhead of our battalion. Weremained on the outside of the building; and, for nearly an hour, sustained a series of the most intolerable abuse. This was chieflyfrom the officers of the light infantry, for the most part young andinsolent puppies, whose worthlessness was apparently theirrecommendation to a service, which placed them in the post of danger, and in the way of becoming food for powder, their most appropriatedestination next to that of the gallows. The term 'rebel, ' with theepithet 'damned' before it, was the mildest we received. We weretwenty times told, sometimes with a taunting affectation of concern, that we should every man of us be hanged. * * * The indignity of beingordered about by such contemptible whipsters, for a moment unmannedme, and I was obliged to apply my handkerchief to my eyes. This wasthe first time in my life that I had been the victim of brutal, cowardly oppression, and I was unequal to the shock; but my elasticityof mind was soon restored, and I viewed it with the indignant contemptit deserved. 

"For the greater convenience of guarding us we were now removed to thebarn of Colonel Morris's house, which had been the head-quarters ofour army. * * * It was a good, new building. * * * There were from ahundred and fifty to two hundred, comprising a motley group, to besure. Men and officers of all descriptions, regulars and militia, troops continental and state, and some in hunting shirts, the mortalaversion of a red coat. Some of the officers had been plundered oftheir hats, and some of their coats, and upon the new society intowhich we were introduced, with whom a showy exterior was all in all, we were certainly not calculated to make a very favorableimpression. I found Captain Tudor here, of our regiment, who, if Imistake not, had lost his hat. * * * It was announced, by an huzza, that the fort had surrendered. 

"The officer who commanded the guard in whose custody we now were, wasan ill-looking, low-bred fellow of this dashing corps of lightinfantry. * * * As I stood as near as possible to the door for thesake of air, the enclosure in which we were being extremely crowdedand unpleasant, I was particularly exposed to his brutality; andrepelling with some severity one of his attacks, for I was becomingdesperate and careless of safety, the ruffian exclaimed, 'Not a word, sir, or damme, I'll give you my butt!' at the same time clubbing hisfusee, and drawing it back as if to give the blow, I fully expectedit, but he contented himself with the threat. I observed to him thatI was in his power, and disposed to submit to it, though not proofagainst every provocation. * * * There were several British officerspresent, when a Serjeant-Major came to take an account of us, andparticularly 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 themost arrogant army in the world; and with his pen in his hand and hispaper 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 twelvefeet, and we were told that such of us as were officers might walkbefore the door. This was a great relief to us. "

The officers were lodged in the barn loft quite comfortably. A youngLieutenant Beckwith had them in charge, and was a humane gentleman. Inthe evening he told them he would send them, if possible, a bottle ofwine, but at any rate, a bottle of spirits. He kept his word as to thespirits, which was all the supper the party in the loft had. "In themorning a soldier brought me Mr. B. 's compliments, and an invitationto come down and breakfast with him. * * * I thankfully accepted hisinvitation, and took with me Forrest and Tudor. * * * He gave us adish of excellent coffee, with plenty of very good toast, which wasthe only morsel we had eaten for the last twenty-four hours. * * * Ourfellow sufferers got nothing until 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 ofRawlings, which had been actively engaged, killed a number of theenemy, and lost many themselves. 

"About two o'clock Mr. B. Sent me a plate amply supplied with cornedbeef, cabbage, and the leg and wing of a turkey, with bread inproportion. "

Though Mr. Graydon calls this gentleman Mr. Becket, it seems thatthere was no young officer of that name at the battle of FortWashington. Becket appears to be a mistake for Lieutenant OnslowBeckwith. The prisoners were now marched within six miles of New Yorkand Graydon's party of officers were well quartered in ahouse. "Here, " he continues, "for the first time we drew provisionsfor the famished soldiers. * * * Previously to entering the city wewere drawn up for about an hour on the high ground near the EastRiver. Here, the officers being separated from the men, we wereconducted into a church, where we signed a parole. "

At this place a non-commissioned British officer, who had seen him atthe ordinary kept by his widowed mother in Philadelphia, when he was aboy, insisted on giving him a dollar. 

"Quarters were assigned for us in the upper part of the town, in whatwas called 'The holy ground. ' * * * I ventured to take board at fourdollars per week with a Mrs. Carroll. * * * Colonel Magaw, Major West, and others, boarded with me. "

He was fortunate in obtaining his trunk and mattress. Speaking of theprisons in which the privates were confined he says: "I once and onceonly ventured to penetrate into these abodes of human misery anddespair. But to what purpose repeat my visit, when I had neitherrelief to administer nor comfort to bestow? * * * I endeavoured tocomfort them with the hope of exchange, but humanity forbade me tocounsel them to rush on sure destruction. * * * Our own condition wasa paradise to theirs. * * * Thousands of my unhappy countrymen wereconsigned to slow, consuming tortures, equally fatal and potent todestruction. "

The American officers on parole in New York prepared a memorial to SirWilliam Howe on the condition of these wretched sufferers, and it wassigned by Colonels Magaw, Miles, and Atlee. This is, no doubt, thepaper of which Colonel Ethan Allen writes. Captain Graydon wascommissioned to deliver this document to Sir William Howe. He says:"The representation which had been submitted to General Howe in behalfof the suffering prisoners was more successful than had been expected. * * * The propositions had been considered by Sir William Howe, and hewas disposed to accede to them. These were that the men should be sentwithin our lines, where they should be receipted for, and an equalnumber of the prisoners in our hands returned in exchange. * * * Ourmen, no longer soldiers (their terms for which they had enlistedhaving expired) and too debilitated for service, gave a claim to soundmen, immediately fit to take the field, and there was moreover greatdanger that if they remained in New York the disease with which theywere infected might be spread throughout the city. At any rate hopewas admitted into the mansions of despair, the prison doors werethrown open, and the soldiers who were yet alive and capable of beingmoved were conveyed to our nearest posts, under the care of ourregimental surgeons, to them a fortunate circumstance, since itenabled them to exchange the land of bondage for that of liberty. * ** Immediately after the release of our men a new location was assignedto us. On the 22nd of January, 1777, we were removed 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 inJanuary, 1777. The survivors of the American prisoners were, many ofthem, exchanged for healthy British soldiers. The crime had beencommitted, one of the blackest which stains the annals of Englishhistory. By the most accurate computation at least two thousandhelpless American prisoners had been slowly starved, frozen, orpoisoned to death in the churches and other prisons in New York. 

No excuse for this monstrous crime can be found, even by those who areanxiously in search of an adequate one. 

We have endeavored to give some faint idea of the horrors of thathopeless captivity. As we have already said scarcely any one whoendured imprisonment for any length of time in the churches lived totell the tale. One of these churches was standing not many years ago, and the marks of bayonet thrusts might plainly be seen upon itspillars. What terrible deeds were enacted there we can onlyconjecture. We _know_ that two thousand, healthy, high-spiritedyoung men, many of them sons of gentlemen, and all patriotic, brave, and long enduring, even unto death, were foully murdered in theseplaces of torment, compared to which ordinary captivity is describedby one who endured it as paradise. We know, we say, that these youngmen perished awfully, rather than enlist in the British army; thatposterity has almost forgotten them, and that their dreadfulsufferings ought to be remembered wherever American history is read. 

We have already said that it is impossible now to obtain the names ofall who suffered death at the hands of their inhuman jailors duringthe fall and winter of 1776-7. But we have taken Captain AbrahamShepherd's company of riflemen as a sample of the prisoners, and areable, thanks to the pay roll now in our care, to indicate the fate ofeach man upon the list. 

It is a mistake to say that no prisoners deserted to theBritish. After the account we have quoted from Ethan Allen's book wefeel sure that no one can find the heart to blame the poor starvingcreatures who endeavored to preserve their remains of life in thismanner. 

Henry Bedinger gives the names of seven men of this company whodeserted. They are Thomas Knox, a corporal; William Anderson, RichardNeal, George Taylor, Moses McComesky, Anthony Blackhead and AnthonyLarkin. Thomas Knox did not join the British forces until the 17th ofJanuary, 1777; William Anderson on the 20th of January, 1777. RichardNeal left the American army on the tenth of August, 1776. He, therefore, was not with the regiment at Fort Washington. George Taylordeserted on the 9th of July, 1776, which was nine days after heenlisted. Moses McComesky did not desert until the 14th of June, 1777. Anthony Blackhead deserted November 15th, 1776, the day beforethe battle was fought; Anthony Larkin, September 15th, 1776. We cannottell what became of any of these men. Those who died of the prisonersare no less than fifty-two in this one company of seventy-nineprivates and non-commissioned officers. This may and probably doesinclude a few who lived to be exchanged. The date of death of each manis given, but not the place in which he died. 

A very singular fact about this record is that no less than_seventeen_ of the prisoners of this company died on the sameday, which was the fifteenth of February, 1777. Why this was so wecannot tell. We can only leave the cause of their death to theimagination of our readers. Whether they were poisoned by wholesale;whether they were murdered in attempting to escape; whether the nightbeing extraordinarily severe, they froze to death; whether they werebutchered by British bayonets, we are totally unable to tell. Therecord gives their names and the date of death and says that allseventeen were prisoners. That is all. 

The names of these men are Jacob Wine, William Waller, Peter Snyder, Conrad Rush, David Harmon, William Moredock, William Wilson, JamesWilson, Thomas Beatty, Samuel Davis, John Cassody, Peter Good, JohnNixon, Christopher Peninger, Benjamin McKnight, John McSwaine, JamesGriffith, and Patrick Murphy. 

Two or three others are mentioned as dying the day after. Is itpossible that these men were on board one of the prison ships whichwas set on fire? If so we have been able to discover no account ofsuch a disaster on that date. 

Many of the papers of Major Henry Bedinger were destroyed. It ispossible that he may have left some clue to the fate of these men, butif so it is probably not now in existence. But among the letters andmemoranda written by him which have been submitted to us forinspection, is a list, written on a scrap of paper, of the men that herecruited for Captain Shepherd's Company in the summer of 1776. Thispaper gives the names of the men and the date on which each one diedin prison. It is as follows:

LIST OF MEN RAISED BY LIEUTENANT HENRY BEDINGER, AND THAT HE BROUGHTFROM NEW TOWN, BERKELEY COUNTY, VA. , AUGUST FIRST, 1776

Dennis Bush, Fourth Sergeant. (He was taken prisoner at FortWashington, but lived to be exchanged, and was paid 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. 

William Seaman was the son of Jonah Seaman, living nearDarkesville. Isaac Price was an orphan, living with James' Campbell'sfather. Samuel Davis came from near Charlestown. 

Henry Bedinger. 

This is all, but it is eloquent with what it does not say. All but twoof this list of seventeen young, vigorous riflemen died in prison orfrom the effects of confinement. One, alone had sufficient vitality toendure until the 8th of July, 1777. Perhaps he was more to be pitiedthan his comrades. 

We now begin to understand how it happened that, out of more than2, 600 privates taken prisoner at Fort Washington, 1, 900 were dead inthe space of two months and four days, when the exchange of some ofthe survivors took place. Surely this is a lasting disgrace to one ofthe greatest nations of the world. If, as seems undoubtedly true, moremen perished in prison than on the battle fields of the Revolution, itis difficult to see why so little is made of this fact in the manyhistories of that struggle that have been written. We find that theaccounts of British prisons are usually dismissed in a few words, sometimes in an appendix, or a casual note. But history was everwritten thus. Great victories are elaborately described; and all thepomp and circumstance of war is set down for our pleasure andinstruction. But it is due to the grand solemn muse of history, whocarries the torch of truth, that the other side, the horrors of war, should be as faithfully delineated. Wars will not cease until thelessons of their cruelty, their barbarity, and the dark trail ofsuffering they leave behind them are deeply impressed upon themind. It is our painful task to go over the picture, putting in theshadows as we see them, however gloomy may be the effect. 

CHAPTER X

A BOY IN PRISON

In the winter of 1761 a boy was born in a German settlement nearLancaster, Pennsylvania, the third son of Henry Bedinger and his wife, whose maiden name was Magdalene von Schlegel. These Germans, whom wehave already mentioned, moved, in 1762, to the neighborhood of thelittle hamlet, then called Mecklenburg, Berkeley County, Virginia. Afterwards the name of the town was changed toShepherdstown, in honor of its chief proprietor, Thomas Shepherd. 

Daniel was a boy of fourteen when the first company of riflemen wasraised at Shepherdstown by the gallant young officer, Captain HughStephenson, 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 agreat 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 ashort account of his father's early history, which we will quote inthis place. He says: "When the war of the Revolution commenced myfather's eldest brother Henry was about twenty-two years of age. Hisnext brother, Michael, about nineteen, and he himself only in hisfifteenth year. Upon the first news of hostilities his two brothersjoined a volunteer company under the command of Captain HughStephenson, and set off immediately to join the army at Cambridge. 

"My father himself was extremely anxious to accompany them, but theyand his mother, who was a widow, forbade his doing so, telling him hewas entirely too young, and that he must stay at home and take care ofhis younger brothers and sisters. And he was thus very reluctantlycompelled to remain at home. At the expiration of about twelve monthshis brothers returned home, and when the time for their seconddeparture had arrived, the wonderful tales they had narrated of theirlife in camp had wrought so upon my father's youthful and ardentimagination that he besought them and his mother with tears in hiseyes, to suffer him to accompany them. But they, regarding his youth, would not give their consent, but took their departure without him. 

"However, the second night after their arrival in camp (which was atBergen, 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, andnow appeared before them, haggard and weary and half starved by thelengths of his march. * * * My father was taken prisoner at thebattle of Fort Washington, and the privations and cruel treatmentwhich he then underwent gave a blow to his constitution from which henever recovered. After the close of the Revolution he returned homewith a constitution much shattered. * * *"

Many years after the Revolution Dr. Draper, who died in Madison, Wisconsin, and left his valuable manuscripts to the Historical Societyof that State, interviewed an old veteran of the war, in Kentucky. This venerable relic of the Revolution was Major George MichaelBedinger, a brother of Daniel. Dr. Draper took down from his lips ashort account of the battle of Fort Washington, where his two brotherswere captured. Major G. M. Bedinger was not in service at that time, but must have received the account from one or both of hisbrothers. Dr. Draper says: "In the action of Fort Washington HenryBedinger heard a Hessian captain, having been repulsed, speak to hisriflemen in his own language, telling them to follow his example andreserve their fire until they were close. Bedinger, recognizing hismother tongue, watched the approach of the Hessian officer, and eachlevelled his unerring rifle at the other. Both fired, Bedinger waswounded in the finger: the ball passing, cut off a lock of hishair. The Hessian was shot through the head, and instantlyexpired. Captain Bedinger's young brother Daniel, in his company, thenbut a little past fifteen, shot twenty-seven rounds, and was oftenheard to say, after discharging his piece, 'There! take that, you----!'

"His youthful intrepidity, and gallant conduct, so particularlyattracted the attention of the officers, that, though taken prisoner, he was promoted to an ensigncy, his commission dating back six monthsthat he might take precedence of the other ensigns of 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 mostcruel treatment, in filthy holds, impure atmosphere, and stintedallowance of food. With such treatment it was no wonder that but eighthundred out of the 2800 prisoners taken at Fort Washington survived. 

"During the captivity of his brother Henry, Major Bedinger would bylabor, loans at different times, and the property sold which heinherited from his father, procure money to convey to the BritishCommissary of Prisoners to pay his brother Henry's board. Then he wasreleased from the filthy prison ship, limited on his parole of honorto certain limits at Flatbush, and decently provisioned and bettertreated, and it is pleasant to add that the British officers havingcharge of these matters were faithful in the proper application offunds thus placed in their hands. Major Bedinger made many trips onthis labor of fraternal affection. This, with his attention to hismother and family, kept him from regularly serving in the army. Buthe, never the less, would make short tours of service. "

So far we have quoted Dr. Draper's recollections of an interview withGeorge Michael Bedinger in his extreme old age. We have already givenHenry Bedinger's own acount of his captivity. What we know of Daniel'sfar severer treatment we will give in our own words. 

It was four days before the privates taken at Fort Washington had onemorsel to eat. They were then given a little mouldy biscuit and rawpork. They were marched to New York, and Daniel was lodged with manyothers, perhaps with the whole company, in the Old Sugar House onLiberty Street. Here he very nearly died of exposure andstarvation. There was no glass in the windows and scarce one of theprisoners was properly clothed. When it snowed they were drifted overas they slept. 

One day Daniel discovered in some vats a deposit of sugar which he wasglad to scrape to sustain life. A gentleman, confined with him in theOld Sugar House, used to tell his descendants that the most terriblefight he ever engaged in was a struggle with a comrade in prison forthe carcass of a decayed 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, andeven of supplying him, sometimes, with food. Daniel, however, was soonput on board a prison ship, probably the Whitby, in New York harbor. 

Before the first exchange was effected the poor boy had yielded todespair, and had turned his face to the wall, to die. How bitterly hemust have regretted the home he had been so ready to leave a fewmonths before! And now the iron had eaten into his soul, and he longedfor death, as the only means of release from his terrible sufferings. 

Daniel's father was born in Alsace, and he himself had been brought upin a family where German was the familiar language of thehousehold. It seems that, in some way, probably by using his mothertongue, he had touched the heart of one of the Hessian guards. Whenthe officers in charge went among the prisoners, selecting those whowere to be exchanged, they twice passed the poor boy as too far goneto be moved. But he, with a sudden revival of hope and the desire tolive, begged and entreated the Hessian so pitifully not to leave himbehind, that that young man, who is said to have been an officer, declared that he would be responsible for him, had him lifted and laiddown in the bottom of a boat, as he was too feeble to sit or stand. Inthis condition he accompanied the other prisoners to a church in NewYork where the exchange was effected. One or more of the Americansurgeons accompanied the prisoners. In some way Daniel was conveyed toPhiladelphia, where he completely collapsed, and was taken to one ofthe military hospitals. 

Here, about the first of January, 1777, his devoted brother, GeorgeMichael Bedinger, found him. Major Bedinger's son, Dr. B. F. Bedinger, wrote an account of the meeting of these two brothers forMrs. H. B. Lee, one of Daniel's daughters, which tells the rest of thestory. He said:

"My father went to the hospital in search of his brother, but did notrecognize him. On inquiry if there were any (that had been) prisonersthere a feeble voice responded, from a little pile of straw and ragsin a corner, 'Yes, Michael, there is one. '

"Overcome by his feelings my father knelt by the side of the pooremaciated boy, and took him in his arms. He then bore him to a housewhere he could procure some comforts in the way of food andclothing. After this he got an armchair, two pillows, and some leatherstraps. 

"He placed his suffering and beloved charge in the chair, supportedhim by the pillows, swung him by the leather straps to his back, andcarried him some miles into the country, where he found a friendlyasylum 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 himnourishing food, until he partially recovered strength. 

"But your father was very impatient to get home, and wished to proceedbefore he was well able to walk, and did so leave, while my fatherwalked by his side, with his arm around him to support him. Thus theytravelled from the neighborhood of Philadelphia, to Shepherdstown(Virginia) of course by short stages, when my father restored him safeto his mother and family. 

"Your father related some of the incidents of that trip to me when Ilast saw him at Bedford (his home) in the spring of 1817, not morethan one year before his death. Our uncle, Henry Bedinger, was also aprisoner for a long time, and although he suffered greatly hissuffering was not to be compared to your father's. 

"After your father recovered his health he again entered the serviceand continued in it to the end of the war. He was made Lieutenant, andI have heard my father speak of many battles he was in, but I haveforgotten the names and places. " [Footnote: Letter of DrB. F. Bedinger to Mrs H. B. Lee, written in 1871. ]

After Daniel Bedinger returned home he had a relapse, and lay, for along time, at the point of death. He, however, recovered, andre-entered the service, where the first duty assigned him was that ofacting as one of the guards over the prisoners near Winchester. Heafterwards fought with Morgan in the southern campaigns, was in thebattle of the Cowpens, and several other engagements, serving untilthe army was disbanded. He was a Knight of the Order of theCincinnati. His grandson, the Rev. Henry Bedinger, has the originalparchment signed by General Washington, in his possession. Thisgrandson is now the chaplain of the Virginia branch of the Society. 

In 1791 Daniel Bedinger married Miss Sarah Rutherford, a daughter ofHon. Robert Rutherford, of Flowing Springs, in what is now JeffersonCounty, West Virginia, but was then part of Berkeley County, Virginia. 

Lieutenant Bedinger lived in Norfolk for many years. He was firstengaged in the Custom House in that city. In 1802 he accepted theposition of navy agent of the Gosport Navy Yard. He died in 1818 athis home near Shepherdstown, of a malady which troubled him ever afterhis confinement as a prisoner in New York. He hated the British with abitter hatred, which is not to be wondered at. He was an ardentsupporter of Thomas Jefferson, and wrote much for the periodicals ofthe time. Withal he was a scholarly gentleman, and a warm and generousfriend. He built a beautiful residence on the site of his mother's oldhome near Sheperdstown; where, when he died in 1818, he left a largefamily of children, and a wide circle of friends and admirers. 

CHAPTER XI

THE NEWSPAPERS OF THE REVOLUTION

What we have been able to glean from the periodicals of the day aboutthe state of the prisons in New York during the years 1776 and 1777 wewill condense into one short chapter. 

We will also give an abstract taken from a note book written byGeneral Jeremiah Johnson, who as a boy, lived near Wallabout Bayduring the Revolution and who thus describes one of the first prisonships used by the British at New York. He says: "The subject of thenaval prisoners, and of the British prisons-ships, stationed at theWallabout during the Revolution, is one which cannot be passed by insilence. From printed journals, published in New York at the close ofthe war, it appeared that 11, 500 American prisoners had died on boardthe prison ships. Although this number is very great, yet if thenumbers who perished had been less, the Commissary of Naval Prisoners, David Sproat, Esq. , and his Deputy, had it in their power, by anofficial Return, to give the true number taken, exchanged, escaped, and _dead_. Such a Return has never appeared in the UnitedStates. 

"David Sproat returned to America after the war, and resided inPhiladelphia, where he died. [Footnote: This is, we believe, amistake. Another account says he died at Kirkcudbright, Scotland, in1792. ] The Commissary could not have been ignorant of the statementpublished here on this interesting subject. We may, therefore, inferthat about that number, 11, 500, perished in the Prison ships. 

"A large transport called the Whitby, was the first prison shipanchored in the Wallabout. She was moored near Remsen's Mill about the20th of October, 1776, and was then crowded with prisoners. Manylandsmen were prisoners on board this vessel: she was said to be themost sickly of all the prison ships. Bad provisions, bad water, andscanted rations were dealt to the prisoners. No medical men attendedthe sick. Disease reigned unrelieved, and hundreds died frompestilence, or were starved on board this floating Prison. I saw thesand beach, between a ravine in the hill and Mr. Remsen's dock, becomefilled with graves in the course of two months: and before the firstof May, 1777, the ravine alluded to was itself occupied in the sameway. 

"In the month of May, 1777, two large ships were anchored in theWallabout, when the prisoners were transferred from the Whitby tothem. These vessels were also very sickly from the causes beforestated. Although many prisoners were sent on board of them, and noneexchanged, death made room for all. 

"On a Sunday afternoon about the middle of October, 1777, one of theseprison ships was burnt. The prisoners, except a few, who, it wassaid, were burnt in the vessel, were removed to the remaining ship. Itwas reported at the time, that the prisoners had fired their prison, which, if true, proves that they preferred death, even by fire, to thelingering sufferings of pestilence and starvation. In the month ofFebruary, 1778, the remaining prison ship was burnt, when theprisoners were removed from her to the ships then wintering in theWallabout. "

One of the first notices we have in the newspapers of the day ofAmerican prisoners is to the following effect: "London, August 5th, 1775. As every rebel, who is taken prisoner, has incurred the pain ofdeath by the law martial, it is said that Government will charterseveral transports, after their arrival at Boston to carry theculprits to the East Indies for the Company's service. As it is theintention of Government only to punish the ringleaders and commanders_capitally_, and to suffer the inferior Rebels to redeem theirlives by entering into the East India Company's service. Thistranslation will only render them more useful subjects than in theirnative country. "

This notice, copied from London papers, appeared in Holt's _New YorkJournal_, for October 19th, 1775. It proved to be no idlethreat. How many of our brave soldiers were sent to languish out theirlives 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 whoescaped from captivity worse than death on the island of Sumatra. 

An account of the mobbing of William Cunningham and John Hill is givenin 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 NewYork, dragged through the green, Cunningham was robbed of his watchand the clothes torn off his back, etc. , for being a Tory, and havingmade himself obnoxious to the Americans. He has often been heardblustering in behalf of the ministry, and his behavior has recommendedhim to the favor of several men of eminence, both in the military andcivil departments. He has often been seen, on a footing offamiliarity, at their houses, and parading the streets on a horsebelonging to one of the 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 wereexchanged. The wounded privates were soon sent on board the Levity. * * * At about three a signal was made by the Levity that they wereready to deliver up our prisoners, upon which General Putnam and MajorMoncrief went to the ferry, where they received nine prisoners. Theregular officers expressed themselves as highly pleased, those who hadbeen prisoners politely acknowledged the genteel kindness they hadreceived from their captors; the privates, who were all wounded men, expressed in the strongest terms their grateful sense of thetenderness which had been shown them in their miserable situation;some of them could do it only by their tears. It would have been tothe honor of the British arms if the prisoners taken from us couldwith justice have made the same acknowledgement. It cannot be supposedthat any officers of rank or common humanity were knowing to therepeated cruel insults that were offered them; but it may not be amissto hint to the upstarts concerned, two truths of which they appear tobe wholly ignorant, viz: That compassion is as essential a part of thecharacter of a truly brave man as daring, and that insult offered tothe person completely in the power of the insulters smells as strongof cowardice as it does of cruelty. " [Footnote: The first Americanprisoners were taken on the 17th of June, 1775. These were thrownindiscriminately into the jail at Boston without any consideration oftheir rank. General Washington wrote to General Gage on this subject, to which the latter replied by asserting that the prisoners had beentreated with care and kindness, though indiscriminately, as heacknowledged no rank that was not derived from the King. GeneralCarleton during his command conducted towards the American prisonerswith a degree of humanity that reflected the greatest honor on hischaracter. " From Ramsay's "History of the American Revolution"]

At the battle of the Great Bridge "the Virginia militia showed thegreatest humanity and tenderness to the wounded prisoners. Several ofthem ran through a hot fire to lift up and bring in some that werebleeding, and whom they feared would die if not speedily assisted bythe surgeon. The prisoners had been told by Lord Dunmore that theAmericans would scalp them, and they cried out, 'For God's sake do notmurder us!' One of them who was unable to walk calling out in thismanner to one of our men, was answered by him: 'Put your arm about myneck and I'll show you what I intend to do. ' Then taking him, with hisarm over his neck, he walked slowly along, bearing him with greattenderness to the breastwork. " _Pennsylvania Evening Post_, January 6th, 1776. 

The Great Bridge was built over the southern branch of the ElizabethRiver, twelve miles above Norfolk. Colonel William Woodford commandedthe Virginia militia on this occasion. 

"The scene closed with as much humanity as it had been conducted withbravery. The work of death being over, every one's attention wasdirected to the succor of the unhappy sufferers, and it is anundoubted fact that Captain Leslie was so affected with the tendernessof our troops towards those who were yet capable of assistance that hegave signs from the fort of his thankfulness for it. " _PennsylvaniaEvening 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 theRoebuck, up to the prison ship at Norfolk in a pilot boat. "

_The Constitutional Gazette_ for the 19th of April, 1776, hasthis announcement, and though it does not bear directly on the subjectof prisoners, it describes a set of men who were most active in takingthem, and were considered by the Americans as more cruel andvindictive than even the British themselves. 

"Government have sent over to Germany to engage 1, 000 men calledJagers, people brought up to the use of the rifle barrel guns inboar-hunting. They are amazingly expert. Every petty prince who hathforests keeps a number of them, and they are allowed to takeapprentices, by which means they are a numerous body of people. Thesemen are intended to act in the next campaign in America, and ourministry plume themselves much in the thought of their being acomplete match for the American riflemen. "

From Gaine's _Mercury_, a notorious Tory paper published in NewYork during the British occupancy, we take the following: "November25th, 1776. There are now 5, 000 prisoners in town, many of them halfnaked. Congress deserts the poor wretches, --have sent them neitherprovisions nor clothing, nor paid attention to their distress nor thatof their families. Their situation must have been doubly deplorable, but for the humanity of the King's officers. Every possible attentionhas been given, considering their great numbers and necessaryconfinement, to alleviate their distress arising from guilt, sickness, and poverty. "

This needs no comment. It is too unspeakably false to be worthcontradicting. 

"New London, Conn. , November 8th, 1776. Yesterday arrived E. Thomas, who was captured September 1st, carried to New York, and put on boardthe Chatham. He escaped Wednesday sennight. "

"New London, Nov. 20th, 1776. American officers, prisoners on parole, are walking about the streets of New York, but soldiers are closelyconfined, have but half allowance, are sickly, and die fast. "

"New London, Nov. 29th, 1776. A cartel arrived here for exchange ofseamen only. Prisoners had miserable confinement on board of storeships and transports, where they suffered for want of the commonnecessaries of life. "

"Exact from a letter written on board the Whitby Prison Ship. NewYork, Dec. 9th, 1776. Our present situation is most wretched; morethan 250 prisoners, some sick and without the least assistance fromphysician, drug, or medicine, and fed on two-thirds allowance of saltprovisions, and crowded promiscuously together without regard, tocolor, person or office, in the small room of a ship's between decks, allowed to walk the main deck only between sunrise and sunset. Onlytwo at a time allowed to come on deck to do what nature requires, andsometimes denied even that, and use tubs and buckets between decks, tothe great offence of every delicate, cleanly person, and prejudice ofall 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. )

From a Connecticut paper: "This may inform those who have friends inNew York, prisoners of war, that Major Wells, a prisoner, has comethence to Connecticut on parole, to collect money for the muchdistressed officers and soldiers there, and desires the money may beleft at Landlord Betts, Norwalk; Captain Benjamin's, Stratford;Landlord Beers, New Haven; Hezekiah Wylly's, Hartford; and at saidWell's, Colchester, with proper accounts from whom received, and towhom to be delivered. N. B. The letters must not be sealed, orcontain anything of a political nature. " Conn. Papers, Dec. 6th, 1776. 

"Conn. _Gazette_, Feb. 8th, 1777. William Gamble deposes that theprisoners were huddled together with negroes, had weak grog; no swabto clean the ship; bad oil; raw pork; seamen refused them water;called them d----d rebels; the dead not buried, etc. "

"Lieut. Wm. Sterrett, taken August 27, 1776, deposes that his clothingwas stolen, that he was abused by the soldiers; stinted in food; etc. , those who had slight wounds were allowed to perish from neglect. Therecruiting officers seduced the prisoners to enlist, etc. "

"March 7th, 1777. Forty-six prisoners from the Glasgow, transportship, 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 ConnecticutAssembly sent to New York a sufficient supply of tow shirts andtrousers for her prisoners, also £35 to Col. Ethan Allen, by hisbrother Levi. "

"Lt. Thos. Fanning, now on parole from Long Island at Norwich, aprisoner to General Howe, will be at Hartford on his return to NewYork about September 8th, whence he proposes to keep the public roadto King's Bridge. Letters and money left at the most noted publichouses in the different towns, will be conveyed safe to theprisoners. Extraordinaries excepted. " Connecticut _Gazette_, Aug. 15th, 1777. 

"Jan. 8th, '77. A flag of truce vessel arrived at Milford after atedious passage of eleven days, from New York, having above 200prisoners, whose rueful countenances too well discovered the illtreatment they received in New York. Twenty died on the passage, andtwenty 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, whatis revealed to the public of the state of the prisoners in New York in1776 and 1777. Some of our information we have obtained from a bookpublished in 1866 called "Documents and Letters Intended to Illustratethe 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 Britishruffians who held him insisted that he should cry, "God save theKing!" whereupon, taking off his hat, he replied, reverently, "Godsave all of us!" At this the cruel men ran him through, giving himwounds that proved mortal, though had they been properly dressed hislife might have been spared. He was mounted behind a trooper andcarried to Hinchman's Tavern, Jamaica, where permission was refused toDr. 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 vesseloff New Utrecht. This had been a cattle ship. He was next removed tothe house of Wilhelmus Van Brunt at New Utrecht. His arm mortifiedfrom neglect and it was decided to take it off. He sent express to hiswife that he had no hope of recovery, and begged her to gather up whatprovisions she could, for he had a large farm, and hasten to hisbedside. She accordingly loaded a wagon with bread, ham, crackers, butter, etc. , and barely reached her husband in time to see himalive. With his dying breath he requested her to distribute theprovisions she had brought to the suffering and starving Americanprisoners. 

Elias Baylis, who was old and blind, was chairman of the JamaicaCommittee of Safety. He was captured and first imprisoned in thechurch at New Utrecht. Afterwards he was sent to the provost prison inNew York. He had a very sweet voice, and was an earnest Christian. Inthe prison he used to console himself and his companions in misery bysinging hymns and psalms. Through the intervention of his friends, hisrelease was obtained after two months confinement, but the rigor ofprison life had been too much for his feeble frame. He died, in thearms of his daughter, as he was in a boat crossing the ferry to hishome. 

While in the Presbyterian church in New Utrecht used as a prison bythe British, he had for companions, Daniel Duryee, William Furman, William Creed, and two others, all put into one pew. Baylis asked themto get the Bible out of the pulpit and read it to him. They feared todo this, but consented to lead the blind man to the pulpit steps. Ashe returned with the Bible in his hands a British guard met him, beathim violently and took away the book. They were three weeks in thechurch at New Utrecht. When a sufficient number of Whig prisoners werecollected there they would be marched under guard to a prisonship. One old Whig named Smith, while being conducted to hisdestination, appealed to an onlooker, a Tory of his acquaintance, tointercede for him. The cold reply of his neighbor was, "Ah, John, you've been a great rebel!" Smith turned to another of hisacquaintances named McEvers, and said to him, "McEvers, its hard foran old man like me to have to go to a prison! Can't you do somethingfor me?"

"What have you been doing, John?"

"Why, I've had opinions of my own!"

"Well, I'll see what I can do for you. "

McEvers then went to see the officers in charge and made suchrepresentations to them that Smith was immediately released. 

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 inAmerica. Next day he was taken to New York. He, with other prisoners, was paraded through the streets to the provost, with a gang of loosewomen marching before them, to add insult to suffering. 

Onderdonk says: "After awhile the rigor of the prison rules wassomewhat abated. " He was allowed to write home, which he did in Dutch, for provisions, such as smoked beef, butter, etc. * * * His friendsprocured a woman to do his washing, prepare food and bring it tohim. * * * One day as he was walking through the rooms followed by hisconstant attendant, a negro with coils of rope around his neck, thisman asked Onderdonk what he was imprisoned for. 

"'I've been a Committee man, '" said he. 

"'Well, ' with an oath and a great deal of abuse, 'You shall be hungtomorrow. '"

This mulatto was named Richmond, and was the common hangman. He usedto parade the provost with coils of ropes, requesting the prisoners tochoose their own halters. He it was who hung the gallant Nathan Hale, and was Cunningham's accessory in all his brutal midnight murders. InGaine's paper for August 4th, 1781, appears the followingadvertisement: "One Guinea Reward, ran away a black man namedRichmond, being the common hangman, formerly the property of the rebelColonel Patterson of Pa. 

"Wm. Cunningham. "

After nearly four weeks imprisonment the friends of Adrian Onderdonkprocured his release. He was brought home in a wagon in the night, sopale, thin, and feeble from bodily suffering that his family scarcelyrecognized him. His constitution was shattered and he never recoveredhis former strength. 

Onderdonk says that women often brought food for the prisoners inlittle baskets, which, after examination, were handed in. Now and thenthe guard might intercept what was sent, or Cunningham, if the humortook him, as he passed through the hall, might kick over vessels ofsoup, placed there by the charitable for the poor and friendlessprisoners. 

EXTRACT FROM A BETTER FROM DR. SILAS HOLMES

"The wounded prisoners taken at the battle of Brooklyn were put in thechurches of Flatbush and New Utrecht, but being neglected andunattended were wallowing in their own filth, and breathed an infectedand impure air. Ten days after the battle Dr. Richard Bailey wasappointed to superintend the sick. He was humane, and dressed thewounded daily; got a sack bed, sheet, and blanket for each prisoner;and distributed the prisoners into the adjacent barns. WhenMrs. Woodhull offered to pay Dr. Bailey for his care and attention toher husband, he said he had done no more than his duty, and if therewas anything due it was to me. "

Woodhull's wounds were neglected nine days before Dr. Bailey wasallowed to attend them. 

How long the churches were used as prisons cannot be ascertained, butwe have no account of prisoners confined in any of them after the year1777. In the North Dutch Church in New York there were, at one time, eight hundred prisoners huddled together. It was in this church thatbayonet marks were discernible on its pillars, many years after thewar. 

The provost and old City Hall were used as prisons until EvacuationDay, when O'Keefe threw his ponderous bunch of keys on the floor andretired. The prisoners are said to have asked him where they were togo. 

"To hell, for what I care, " he replied. 

"In the Middle Dutch Church, " says Mr. John Pintard, who was a nephewof Commissary Pintard, "the prisoners taken on Long Island and at FortWashington, sick, wounded, and well, were all indiscriminately huddledtogether, by hundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died bydisease, and many undoubtedly poisoned by inhuman attendants for thesake of their watches, or silver buckles. "

"What was called the Brick Church was at first used as a prison, butsoon it and the Presbyterian Church in Wall Street, the Scotch Churchin Cedar Street, and the Friends' Meeting House were converted intohospitals. "

Oliver Woodruff, who died at the age of ninety, was taken prisoner atFort Washington, and left the following record: "We were marched toNew York and went into different prisons. Eight hundred and sixteenwent into the New Bridewell (between the City Hall and Broadway); someinto the Sugar House; others into the Dutch Church. On Thursdaymorning they brought us a little provision, which was the first morselwe got to eat or drink after eating our breakfast on Saturdaymorning. * * * I was there (in New Bridewell) three months. In thedungeons of the old City Hall which stood on the site of what wasafterwards the Custom House at first civil offenders were confined, but afterwards whale-boatmen and robbers. "

Robert Troup, a young lieutenant in Colonel Lasher's battalion, testified that he and Lieut. Edward Dunscomb, Adjutant Hoogland, andtwo volunteers were made prisoners by a detachment of British troopsat three o'clock a m. On the 27th of August, 1776. They were carriedbefore the generals and interrogated, with threats of hanging. Thencethey were led to a house near Flatbush. At 9 a. M. They were led, inthe rear of the army, to Bedford. Eighteen officers captured thatmorning were confined in a small soldier's tent for two nights andnearly three days. It was raining nearly all the time. Sixtyprivates, also, had but one tent, while at Bedford the provostmarshal, Cunningham, brought with him a negro with a halter, tellingthem the negro had already hung several, and he imagined he would hangsome more. The negro and Cunningham also heaped abuse upon theprisoners, showing them the halter, and calling them rebels, scoundrels, robbers, murderers, etc. 

From Bedford they were led to Flatbush, and confined a week in a housebelonging to a Mr. Leffert, on short allowance of biscuit and saltpork. Several Hessians took pity on them and gave them apples, andonce 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 freshwater for washing purposes being denied them. They drank and cookedwith filthy water brought from England. The captain charged a verylarge commission for purchasing necessaries for them with the moneythey procured from their friends. 

After six weeks spent on the snow they were taken on the 17th ofOctober to New York and confined in a house near Bridewell. At firstthey were not allowed any fuel, and afterwards only a little coal forthree days in the week. Provisions were dealt out very negligently, were scanty, and of bad quality. Many were ill and most of them wouldhave died had their wants not been supplied by poor people and loosewomen of the town, who took pity on them. 

"Shortly after the capture of Fort Washington these officers wereparoled and allowed the freedom of the town. Nearly half the prisonerstaken on Long Island died. The privates were treated with greatinhumanity, without fuel, or the common necessaries of life, and wereobliged 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 inAugust on Long Island, but "played the fool by making them ride with arope around their necks, seated on coffins, to the gallows. Major OthoWilliams was so treated. "

"Adolph Myer, late of Colonel Lasher's battalion, says he was taken bythe 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 quartersnear Turtle Bay, who ordered him to be bound hand and foot. He wasconfined four days on bread and water, in the 'condemned hole' of theNew Jail, without straw or bedding. He was next put into the College, and then into the New Dutch Church, whence he escaped on thetwenty-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 suchwretchedness as to attract the attention of the loose women of thetown, from whom they received considerable assistance. No care wastaken of the sick, and if any died they were thrown at the door of theprison and lay there until the next day, when they were put in a cartand drawn out to the intrenchments beyond the Jews' burial ground, when they were interred by their fellow prisoners, conducted thitherfor that purpose. The dead were thrown into a hole promiscuously, without the usual rites of sepulchre. Myer was frequently enticed toenlist. " This is one of the few accounts we have from a prisoner whowas confined in one of the churches in New York, and he was sofortunate as to escape before it was too late. We wish he had giventhe details of his escape. In such a gloomy picture as we are obligedto present to our readers the only high lights are occasional acts ofhumanity, and such incidents as fortunate escapes. 

It would appear, from many proofs, that the Hessian soldier wasnaturally a good-natured being, and he seems to have been the mosthumane of the prison guards. We will see, as we go on, instances ofthe kindness of these poor exiled mercenaries, to many of whom the warwas almost as great a scene of calamity and suffering as it was to thewretched prisoners under their care. 

"Lieutenant Catlin, taken September 15th, '76, was confined in prisonwith no sustenance for forty-eight hours; for eleven days he had onlytwo days allowance of pork offensive to the smell, bread hard, mouldyand wormy, made of canail and dregs of flax-seed; water brackish. 'Ihave seen $1. 50 given for a common pail full. Three or four pounds ofpoor Irish pork were given to three men for three days. In one churchwere 850 prisoners for near three months. '"

"About the 25th of December he with 225 men were put on board theGlasgow at New York to be carried to Connecticut for exchange. Theywere aboard eleven days, and kept on coarse broken bread, and lesspork than before, and had no fire for sick or well; crowded betweendecks, where twenty-eight died through ill-usage and cold. " (This istaken from the "History of Litchfield, " page 39. )

EXTRACT FROM A LETTER DATED NEW YORK, DEC. 26, 1776

"The distress of the prisoners cannot be communicated in words. Twentyor thirty die every day; they lie in heaps unburied; what numbers ofmy countrymen have died by cold and hunger, perished for want of thecommon necessaries of life! I have seen it! This, sir, is the boastedBritish clemency! I myself had well nigh perished under it. The NewEngland people can have no idea of such barbarous policy. Nothing canstop 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 canprotect the survivors in the like situation. Rather than experienceagain their barbarity and insults, may I fall by the sword of theHessians. "

Onderdonk, who quotes this fragment, gives us no clue to the writer. Aman named S. Young testifies that, "he was taken at Fort Washingtonand, with 500 prisoners, was kept in a barn, and had no provisionsuntil Monday night, when the enemy threw into the stable, in aconfused manner, as if to so many hogs, a quantity of biscuits incrumbs, mostly mouldy, and some crawling with maggots, which theprisoners were obliged to scramble for without any division. Next daythey had a little pork which they were obliged to eat raw. Afterwardsthey got sometimes a bit of pork, at other times biscuits, peas, andrice. They were confined two weeks in a church, where they sufferedgreatly 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, where500 were confined below decks. "

The date of this testimony is given as Dec. 15th, 1776: "W. D. Saysthe prisoners were roughly used at Harlem on their way from FortWashington to New York, where 800 men were stored in the NewBridewell, which was a cold, open house, the windows not glazed. Theyhad not one mouthful from early Saturday morning until Monday. Rationsper man for three days were half a pound of biscuit, half a pound ofpork, half a gill of rice, half a pint of peas, and half an ounce ofbutter, the whole not enough for one good meal, and they weredefrauded in this petty allowance. They had no straw to lie on, nofuel but one cart load per week for 800 men. At nine o'clock theHessian guards would come and put out the fire, and lay on the poorprisoners with heavy clubs, for sitting around the fire. 

"The water was very bad, as well as the bread. Prisoners died likerotten sheep, with cold, hunger, and dirt; and those who had goodapparel, such as buckskin breeches, or good coats, were necessitatedto sell them to purchase bread to keep them alive. " Hinman, page 277. 

"Mrs. White left New York Jan. 20th, 1777. She says Bridewell, theCollege, the New Jail, the Baptist Meeting House, and the tavernlately occupied by Mr. De la Montaigne and several other houses arefilled with sick and wounded of the enemy. General Lee was under guardin a small mean house at the foot of King Street. Wm. Slade says 800prisoners taken at Fort Washington were put into the North church. Onthe first of December 300 were taken from the church to the prisonship. December second he, with others, was marched to the Grosvenortransport in the North River; five hundred were crowded on board. Hehad to lie down before sunset to secure a place. " Trumbull Papers. 

"Henry Franklin affirms that about two days after the taking of FortWashington he was in New York, and went to the North Church, in whichwere about 800 prisoners taken in said Fort. He inquired into theirtreatment, and they told him they fared hard on account both ofprovisions and lodging, for they were not allowed any bedding, orblankets, and the provisions had not been regularly dealt out, so thatthe modest or backward could get little or none, nor had they beenallowed any fuel to dress their victuals. The prisoners in New Yorkwere very sickly, and died in considerable numbers. "

"Feb. 11, 1777. Joshua Loring, Commissary of Prisoners, says that butlittle provisions had been sent in by the rebels for their prisoners. "Gaine's Mercury. 

_Jan. 4th_. 1777. "Seventy-seven prisoners went into the SugarHouse. N. Murray says 800 men were in Bridewell. The doctor gavepoison powders to the prisoners, who soon died. Some were sent toHonduras to cut logwood; women came to the prison-gate to sellgingerbread. " Trumbull Papers. 

The _New York Gazette_ of May 6th, 1777, states that "of 3000prisoners taken at Fort Washington, only 800 are living. "

Mr. Onderdonk says: "There seems to have been no systematic planadopted by the citizens of New York for the relief of the starvingprisoners. We have scattering notices of a few charitable individuals, such as the following:--'Mrs. Deborah Franklin was banished from NewYork Nov. 21st, 1780, by the British commandant, for her unboundedliberality to the American prisoners. Mrs. Ann Mott was associatedwith Mrs. Todd and Mrs. Whitten in relieving the sufferings ofAmerican prisoners in New York, during the Revolution. John Fillisdied at Halifax, 1792, aged 68. He was kind to American prisoners inNew York. Jacob Watson, Penelope Hull, etc. , are also mentioned. '"

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 ourships, but they had such bad distempers that each ship buried ten ortwelve a day. ' Another writer, under date of Jan. 14th, '77, says, 'The Churches are full of American prisoners, who die so fast that 25or 30 are buried at a time, in New York City. General Howe gave allwho could walk their liberty, after taking their oath not to take uparms against his Majesty. '" (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 confinedfor some months in the Provost prison. He managed to secrete writingmaterials and made notes of his treatment. He was imprisoned for beinga Whig and one of the councilmen of Bergen, New Jersey. We will givehis journal entire, as it is quoted by Mr. Onderdonk. 

April 23rd, 1777. Last night I was taken prisoner from my house by 25armed men (he lived in Bergen) who brought me down to ColonelBuskirk's at Bergen Point, and from him I was sent to Gen. Pigot, atN. Y. , who sent me with Captain Van Allen to the Provost Jail. 

24th. Received from Mrs. Curzon, by the hands of Mr. Amiel, $16, twoshirts, two stocks, some tea, sugar, pepper, towels, tobacco, pipes, paper, and a bed and bedding. 

May 1st. Dr. Lewis Antle and Capt. Thomas Golden at the door, refusedadmittance. 

May 2nd. 6 10 P. M. Died John Thomas, of smallpox, aged 70 &inoculated. 

5th. Capt. Colden has brought from Mr. Curson $16. 00. 

11. Dr. Antle came to visit me. Nero at the door. (A dog?)

13. Cold weather. 

20. Lewis Pintard came per order of Elias Boudinot to offer memoney. Refused admittance. Capt. Colden came to visit me. 

21. Capt and Mrs Corne came to visit me, and I was called downstairsto see them. 

23. Lewis Pintard came as Commissary to take account of officers, inorder to assist them with money. 

24. Every person refused admittance to the Provost. 

25. All prisoners paraded in the hall: supposed to look for deserters. 

27. Rev. Mr. Hart and Col. Smith brought to the Provost from LongIsland. 

29. Stormy in Provost. 

30. Not allowed to fetch good water. 

31. Bad water; proposing buying tea-water, but refused. This night tenprisoners from opposite room ordered into ours, in all twenty. 

June 1. Continued the same today. 

2. The people ordered back to their own room. 

3. Captain Van Zandt sent to the dungeon for resenting CaptainCunningham's insulting and abusing me. 

4. Capt. Adams brought into our room. At 9 P. M. Candles ordered out. 

7. Captain Van Zandt returned from the dungeon. 

8. All prisoners paraded and called over and delivered to care ofSergt. Keath. (O'Keefe, probably. ) And told we are all alike, nodistinction to be made. 

10. Prisoners very sickly. 

11. Mr Richards from Connecticut exchanged. 

12. Exceeding strict and severe. "Out Lights!"

13. Melancholy scene, women refused speaking to their sick husbands, and treated cruelly by sentries. 

14. Mr. James Ferris released on parole. People in jail very sicklyand not allowed a doctor. 

17. Capt. Corne came to speak to me; not allowed. 

18. Letter from prisoners to Sergeant Keath, requesting moreprivileges. 

19. Received six bottles claret and sundry small articles, but thenote not allowed to come up. 

20. Memorandum sent to Gen. Pigot with list of grievances. 

21. Answered. "Grant no requests made by prisoners. "

22. Mrs. Banta refused speaking to her son. 

23. Mr Haight died. 

24. Nineteen prisoners from Brunswick. Eighteen sent to the SugarHouse. 

25. Dr Bard came to visit Justice Moore, but his wife was refused, tho' her husband was dying. 

26. Justice Moore died and was carried out. 

27. Several sick people removed below. 

30. Provost very sickly and some die. 

July 3. Received from Mrs Curson per Mrs. Marriner, two half Joes. 

6. Received of E. Boudinot, per Pintard, ten half Joes. 

7. Capt. Thomas Golden came to the grates to see me. 

9. Two men carried out to be hung for desertion, reprieved. 

11. Mr Langdon brought into our room. 

13. The Sergeant removed a number of prisoners from below. 

14. Messrs Demarests exchanged. Dr. Romaine ordered to visit the sick. 

15. A declaration of more privileges, and prisoners allowed to speakat the windows. 

17. Peter Zabriskie had an order to speak with me, and let me knowthat all was well at home

19. Sergt. From Sugar House came to take account of officers in theProvost. Capt. Cunningham in town. 

21. Sergt. Took account of officers. Capt. Jas. Lowry died. 

22. Mr. Miller died. Capt. Lowry buried. 

Aug. 1. Very sick. Weather very hot. 

5. Barry sent to the dungeon for bringing rum for Mr Phillips withoutleave of the Sergt. Everything looks stormy. 

6. Warm weather. Growing better. Mr. Pintard came to supply prisonersof war with clothes. 

10. Two prisoners from Long Island and four Lawrences from Tappan. 

11. John Coven Cromwell from White Plains. Freeland from Polly (?)Fly whipped about salt. 

12. Sergt. Keath took all pens and ink out of each room, and forbidthe use of any on pain of the dungeon. 

13. Abraham Miller discharged. 

14. Jacobus Blauvelt died in the morning, buried at noon. 

16. Capt. Ed. Travis brought into our room from the dungeon, where hehad long been confined and cruelly treated. 

17. Mr. Keath refused me liberty to send a card to Mr Amiel for a lbof tobacco. 

21. Capt. Hyer discharged from the Provost. 

25. Barry brought up from the dungeon, and Capt. Travis sent downagain without any provocation. 

26. Badcock sent to dungeon for cutting wood in the evening. Locks puton all the doors, and threatened to be locked up. Col. Ethan Allenbrought to the Provost from Long Island and confined below. 

27. Badcock discharged from below. 

30. 5 P. M. All rooms locked up close. 

31. A. M. Col Allen brought into our room. 

Sep. 1. Pleasant weather. Bad water. 

4. Horrid scenes of whipping. 

6. Lewis Pintard brought some money for the officers. P. M. Major OthoH. Williams brought from Long Island and confined in our room. MajorWells from same place confined below. A. M. William Lawrence of Tappandied. 

8. Campbell, Taylor, John Cromwell, and Buchanan from Philadelphiadischarged. 

10. Provisions exceedingly ordinary, --pork very rusty, biscuit bad. 

12. Capt. Travis, Capt. Chatham and others brought out of dungeon. 

14. Two prisoners from Jersey, viz: Thomas Campbell of Newark andJoralemon. (Jos. Lemon?)

16. Troops returned from Jersey. Several prisoners brought to Provostviz:--Capt. Varick, Wm. Prevost Brower, etc. Seventeen prisoners fromLong Island. 

22. Nothing material. Major Wells brought from below upstairs. 

24. Received from Mr. Curson per Mr. Amiel four guineas, six bottlesof wine, and one lb tobacco. 

26. Mr. Pintard carried list of prisoners and account of grievances tothe General Capt. Chatham and others carried to dungeon. 

28. Yesterday a number of soldiers were sent below, and severalprisoners brought out of dungeon. Statement of grievances presentedto General Jones which much displeased Sergt. Keath who threatened tolock up the rooms. 

29. Last night Sergt. K. Locked up all the rooms. Rev. Mr. Jas. Searswas admitted upstairs. 

30. Sent Mr. Pintard a list of clothing wanted for continental andstate prisoners in the Provost. Sergt. Locks up all the rooms. 

Oct. 2. Candles ordered out at eight. --Not locked up. 

4. Locked up. Great numbers of ships went up North River. Receivedsundries from Grove Bend. Three pair ribbed hose, three towels. 

5. Garret Miller, of Smith's Cove, signed his will in prison, inpresence of Benjamin Goldsmith, Abr. Skinner, and myself. C. G. Miller died of small-pox--P. M. Buried. 

7. Wm. Prevost discharged from Provost. 

8. Capt. Chatham and Lewis Thatcher brought out of dungeon. 

10. Mr. Pintard sent up blankets, shoes, and stockings for theprisoners. 

12. Lt. Col. Livingstone and upwards of twenty officers from FortMontgomery 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. 

14. Sergt. Keath sent Lt. Mercer and Mr. Nath. Fitzrandolph to thedungeon for complaining that their room had not water sufficient. 

15. Mr. Pintard brought sundry articles for the prisoners. 

17. Mr. Antonio and other prisoners brought here from up North River. 

19. Ben Goldsmith ill of smallpox, made his will and gave it tome. Died two A. M. Oct. 20. 

21. Glorious news from the Northward. 

22. Confirmation strong as Holy Writ. Beef, loaf bread, and butterdrawn today. 

23. Weather continues very cold. Ice in the tub in the hall. A numberof vessels came down North River. Mr. Wm. Bayard at the door to takeout old Mr. Morris. 

24. Prisoners from the Sugar House sent on board ships. 

25. Rev. Mr. Hart admitted on parole in the city. Sergt. Woolley fromthe Sugar House came to take names of officers, and says an exchangeis expected. 

28. Last night and today storm continues very severe. Provost in aterrible condition. Lt. Col. Livingston admitted upstairs a fewminutes. 

Nov. 1. Lt. Callender of the train ordered back on Long Island; alsoseveral officers taken at Fort Montgomery sent on parole to LongIsland. 

3. In the evening my daughter, Elizabeth Colden, came to see me, accompained by Mayor Matthews. 

5. Elizabeth Colden came to let me know she was going out oftown. Yesterday Sergt refused her the liberty of speaking tome. Gen. Robertson's Aid-decamp came to inquire into grievances ofprisoners. 

16. Jail exceedingly disagreeable. --many miserable and shockingobjects, nearly starved with cold and hunger, --miserable prospectbefore me. 

18. The Town Major and Town Adjutant came with a pretence of viewingthe jail. 

19. Peter and Cor. Van Tassel, two prisoners from Tarrytown, in ourroom. 

20 Mr. Pintard sent three barrels of flour to be distributed among theprisoners. 

21. Mr. Pintard came for an account of what clothing the prisonerswanted. 

24. Six tailors brought here from prison ship to work in makingclothes for prisoners. They say the people on board are verysickly. Three hundred sent on board reduced to one hundred. 

25. Mr. Dean and others brought to jail from the town. 

26. Dean locked up by himself, and Mr. Forman brought upstairsattended by Rev. Mr. Inglis, and afterwards ordered downstairs. Neworder--one of the prisoners ordered to go to the Commissary's and seethe provisions dealt out for the prisoners. Vast numbers of peopleassembled at the Provost in expectation of seeing an execution. 

27. John, one of the milkmen, locked upstairs with a sentry at hisdoor. A report by Mr. Webb that a prisoner, Herring, was come down tobe exchanged for Mr Van Zandt or me. 

30. Captain Cunningham came to the Provost. 

Dec. 1. Capt. Money came down with Mr Webb to be exchanged for MajorWells. 

2. Col. Butler visited the Provost and promised a doctor shouldattend. Received from Mr Bend cloth for a great coat, etc. Mr. Pmtardtook a list of clothing wanted 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 SirH. Clinton to examine the sick Prisoners sickly: cause, cold. Prisoners in upper room (have) scanty clothing and only twobushels of coal for room of twenty men per week. 

5. Mr. Blanch ordered out; said to be to go to Morristown to getprisoners exchanged. Cold. 

7. Mr. Webb came to acquaint Major Wells his exchange was agreed towith Capt. Money. 

8. Major Gen. Robertson, with Mayor came to Provost to examineprisoners. I was called and examined, and requested my parole. TheGeneral said I had made bad use of indulgence granted me, in lettingmy daughter come to see me. * * *

9. Major Wells exchanged. 

10. Mr. Pintard sent 100 loaves for the prisoners. A. M. WalterThurston died. Prisoners very sickly and die very fast from thehospitals and prison ships. 

11. Some flags from North River. 

12. Abel Wells died, a tailor from the prison ship. Mr. Pintardbrought letters for sundry people. 

14. Sunday. Guards more severe than ever notwithstanding GeneralRobertson's promise of more indulgence. Capt. Van Zandt brought fromLong Island. 

16. Sent message to Mr Pintard for wood. Cold and entirely out ofwood. 

17. Commissary Winslow came and released Major Winslow on his paroleon Long Island. 

18. Mr Pintard sent four cords of wood for the prisoners. 

19. Capt. John Paul Schoot released on parole. Mr Pintard withclothing for the people. 

21. A paper found at the door of the Provost, intimating that threeprisoners had a rope concealed in a bag in one of the rooms in orderto make their escape. The Sergt. Examined all the rooms, and at nightwe were all locked up. 

22. Received from Mr Pintard 100 loaves and a quarter of beef. 

24. Distributed clothing, etc. , to the prisoners. 

28. Gen. Robertson sent a doctor to examine me in consequence of thepetition sent by Col. Allen for my releasement. The doctor reported toDr. Mallet. 

29. Gen. Robertson sent me word I should be liberated in town, provided I procured a gentleman in town to be responsible for myappearance. Accordingly I wrote to Hon. H. White, Esq. 

30. Dr Romaine, with whom I sent the letter, said Mr White had anumber of objections, but the doctor hoped to succeed in theafternoon. Mr. Winslow came and told the same story I heard the daybefore. 

31. Sergt. Keath brought a message from the General to the samepurpose as yesterday. N. B. I lost the memoranda from this date to thetime of my being liberated from the Provost on Jan. 7, 1778. 

New York Feb. 11. '78. Received a letter from Joshua Loring, Esq, Commissary of Prisoners, with leave from Gen. Robertson for my havingthe bounds of the city allowed me. 

March. 23. Wrote to Major Gen. Robertson and told him this was theeleventh month of my imprisonment. "

Fell's note to the general follows, in which he begs to be liberatedto the house of Mrs. Marriner, who kept an ordinary in the town. Acard in reply from the general states that it is impossible to complywith his request until Mr. Fell's friends give him sufficient securitythat he will not attempt to escape. A Mr. Langdon having broken hisfaith in like circumstances has given rise to a rule, which it is outof the general's power to dispense with, etc, etc. 

"Feb. 4, 1778. I delivered to Mr. Pintard the wills of Garret Millerand Benjamin Goldsmith, to be forwarded to their respectivefamilies. 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. 

"July 2. I left town, and next day arrived safe home. 

"Nov. 15, 1778 I received a certificate from A. Skinner, DeputyCom. Of Prisoners of my being exchanged for Gov. Skene. Signed byJoshua Loring, Commissary General of Prisoners, dated New York, Oct 261778. "

CHAPTER XIV

FURTHER TESTIMONY OF CRUELTIES ENDURED BY AMERICAN PRISONERS

Mr. Fell's notes on his imprisonment present the best picture we canfind of the condition of the Provost Jail during the term of hiscaptivity. We have already seen how Mr Elias Boudinot, AmericanCommissary of Prisoners, came to that place of confinement, and whathe found there. This was in February, 1778. Boudinot also describesthe sufferings of the American prisoners in the early part of 1778 inPhiladelphia, and Mr. Fell speaks of Cunningham's return to NewYork. He had, it appears, been occupied in starving prisoners inPhiladelphia during his absence from the Provost, to which GeneralHowe sent him back, after he had murdered one of his victims inPhiladelphia with the great key. 

It appears that the prisoners in the Provost sent an account of theirtreatment to General Jones, by Mr. Pintard, in September, 1777, several months before the visit of Mr. Elias Boudinot. They complainedthat they were closely confined in the jail without distinction ofrank or character, amongst felons, a number of whom were undersentence of death: that their friends were not allowed to speak tothem, even through the grates: that they were put on the scantyallowance of two pounds hard biscuit, and two pounds of raw pork perweek, without fuel to dress it. That they were frequently suppliedwith water from a pump where all kinds of filth was thrown, by whichit was rendered obnoxious and unwholesome, the effects of which wereto cause much sickness. That good water could have been as easilyobtained. That they were denied the benefit of a hospital; notpermitted to send for medicine, nor to have the services of a doctor, even when in the greatest distress. That married men and others wholay at the point of death were refused permission to have their wivesor other relations admitted to see them. And that these poor women, for attempting to gain admittance, were often beaten from the prisondoor. That commissioned officers, and others, persons of character andreputation, were frequently, without a cause, thrown into a loathsomedungeon, insulted in a gross manner, and vilely abused by a ProvostMarshal, who was allowed to be one of the basest characters in theBritish Army, and whose power was so unlimited, that he had caned anofficer, on a trivial occasion; and frequently beaten the sickprivates when unable to stand, "many of whom are daily obliged toenlist in the New Corps to prevent perishing for want of thenecessaries of life. 

"Neither pen, ink, or paper allowed (to prevent their treatment beingmade public) the consequence of which indeed, the prisoners themselvesdread, knowing the malignant disposition of their keeper. "

The Board of War reported on the 21 of January, 1778, that there were900 privates and 300 officers in New York, prisoners, and that "theprivates have been crowded all summer in sugar houses, and theofficers boarded on Long Island, except about thirty, who have beenconfined in the Provost-Guard, and in most loathsome jails, and thatsince Oct. 1st, all those prisoners, both officers and privates, havebeen confined in prisons, prison ships, or the Provost. " Lists ofprisoners in the Provost; those taken by the Falcon, Dec. 1777, andthose belonging to Connecticut who were in the Quaker and BrickMeeting House hospitals in Jan. 1778, may be found in the TrumbullPapers, VII, 62. 

It seems that General Lee, while a prisoner in New York, in 1778, drewa prize of $500 in the New York Lottery, and immediately distributedit among the prisoners in that city. A New London, Connecticut, paper, dated Feb. 20, 1778, states that "it is said that the Americanprisoners, since we have had a Commissary in New York, are well servedwith good provisions, which are furnished at the expense of theStates, and they are in general very healthy. "

We fear this was a rose-colored view of the matter, though there is nodoubt that our commissaries did what they could to alleviate themiseries of captivity. 

Onderdonk quotes from Gaine's _Mercury_ an advertisement fornurses in the hospital, but it is undated. "Nurses wanted immediatelyto attend the prison hospitals in this city. Good recommendationsrequired, signed by two respectable inhabitants. Lewis Pintard. "

From the New York _Gazette_, May 6, 1778, we take the following:"Colonel Miles, Irvin, and fifty more exchanged. "

"Conn. _Gazette_. July 10, '78. About three weeks ago RobertShefield, of Stonington, made his escape from New York afterconfinement in a prison ship. After he was taken he, with his crew often, were thrust into the fore-peak, and put in irons. On theirarrival at New York they were carried on board a prison ship, and tothe hatchways, on opening which, tell not of Pandora's box, for thatmust be an alabaster box in comparison to the opening of thesehatches. True there were gratings (to let in air) but they kept theirboats 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 allaround. 

"On his descending these dreary mansions of woe, and beholding thenumerous spectacles of wretchedness and despair, his soul faintedwithin him. A little epitome of hell, --about 300 men confined betweendecks, half Frenchmen. He was informed there were three more of thesevehicles of contagion, which contained a like number of miserableFrenchmen also, who were treated worse, if possible, than 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, andghastly looks were truly horrible; some swearing and blaspheming;others crying, praying, and wringing their hands; and stalking aboutlike ghosts; others delirious, raving and storming, --all panting forbreath; some dead, and corrupting. The air was so foul that at times alamp could not be kept burning, by reason of which the bodies were notmissed until they had been dead ten days. 

"One person alone was admitted on deck at a time, after sunset, whichoccasioned much filth to run into the hold, and mingle with the bilgewater, which was not pumped out while he was aboard, notwithstandingthe decks were leaky, and the prisoners begged permission to let inwater and pump it out again. 

"While Mr. Sheffield was on board, which was six days, five or sixdied daily, and three of his people. He was sent for on shore asevidence in a Court of Admiralty for condemning his own vessel, andhappily escaped. 

"He was informed in New York that the fresh meat sent in to ourprisoners by our Commissary was taken by the men-of-war for their ownuse. 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 onshore. But the provision (be it what it will) is not thecomplaint. Fresh air and fresh water, God's free gift, is all theircry. "

"New London, Conn. July 31. 78. Last week 500 or 600 prisoners werereleased from confinement at New York and sent out chiefly by way ofNew Jersey, being exchanged. "

"New London Conn. Sep. 26, 78. All American prisoners are nearly sentout of New York, but there are 615 French prisoners still there. "

"Oct 18, 78. The Ship, Good Hope, lies in the North River. "

"New London Dec. 18, 78. A Flag with 70 men from the horrible prisonships of New York arrived: 30 very sickly, 2 died since they arrived. "

"N. London. Dec. 25, 78. A cartel arived here from New York with 172American prisoners. They were landed here and in Groton, the greaterpart are sickly and in most deplorable condition, owing chiefly to theill usage in the prison ships, where numbers had their feet and legsfrozen"

CHAPTER XV

THE OLD SUGAR HOUSE--TRINTY CHURCHYARD

We will now take our readers with us to the Sugar House on LibertyStreet, long called the Old Sugar House, and the only one of the threeSugar Houses which appear to have been used as a place of confinementfor American prisoners of war after the year 1777. 

We have already mentioned this dreary abode of wretchedness, but itdeserves a more elaborate description. 

From Valentine's Manual of the Common Council of New York for 1844 wewill copy the following brief sketch of the British Prisons in NewYork during the Revolution. 

"The British took possession of New York Sep. 15, '76, and thecapture of Ft. Washington, Nov. 16, threw 2700 prisoners into theirpower. To these must be added 1000 taken at the battle of Brooklyn, and such private citizens as were arrested for their politicalprinciples, in New York City and on Long Island, and we may safelyconclude that Sir William Howe had at least 5000 prisoners to providefor. 

"The sudden influx of so many prisoners; the recent capture of thecity, and the unlooked-for conflagration of a fourth part of it, threwhis affairs into such confusion that, from these circumstances alone, the prisoners must have suffered much, from want of food and otherbodily comforts, but there was superadded the studied cruelty ofCaptain Cunningham, the Provost Marshal, and his deputies, and thecriminal negligence of Sir Wm. Howe. 

"To contain such a vast number of prisoners the ordinary places ofconfinement were insufficient. Accordingly the Brick Church, theMiddle Church, the North Church, and the French Church wereappropriated to their use. Beside these, Columbia College, the SugarHouse, the New Gaol, the new Bridewell, and the old City Hall werefilled to their utmost capacity. 

"Till within a few years there stood on Liberty Street, south of theMiddle Dutch Church, a dark, stone building, with small, deep portholelooking windows, rising tier above tier; exhibiting a dungeon-likeaspect. It was five stories high, and each story was divided into twodreary 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 awalk nearly broad enough for a cart to travel around it, where nightand day, two British or Hessian guards walked their weary rounds. Theyard was surrounded by a close board fence, nine feet high. 'In thesuffocating heat of summer, ' says Wm. Dunlap, 'I saw every narrowaperture of these stone walls filled with human heads, face aboveface, seeking a portion of the external air. '

"While the gaol fever was raging in the summer of 1777, the prisonerswere let out in companies of twenty, for half an hour at a time, tobreathe fresh air, and inside they were so crowded, that they dividedtheir numbers into squads of six each. No. 1 stood for ten minutes asclose to the windows as they could, and then No. 2 took their places, and so on. 

"Seats there were none, and their beds were but straw, intermixed withvermin. 

"For many days the dead-cart visited the prison every morning, intowhich eight or ten corpses were flung or piled up, like sticks ofwood, and dumped into ditches in the outskirts of the city. "

Silas Talbot says: "A New York gentleman keeps a window shutter thatwas used as a checkerboard in the Sugar House. The prisoners dailyunhinged it, and played on it. "

Many years ago a small pamphlet was printed in New York to prove thatsome of the American prisoners who died in the Old Sugar House wereburied in Trinity church-yard. Andrew S. Norwood, who was a boy duringthe 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 breadmade from old, worm-eaten ship biscuits, reground into meal andoffensive to the smell. Many of the prisoners died, and some were putinto oblong boxes, sometimes two in a box, and buried in Trinitychurch-yard, and the boy, himself, witnessed some of the interments. Apart of Trinity church-yard was used as a common burying-ground, --aswas also the yard of St. George's Church, and what was called theSwamp Burying-Ground. 

This boy also deposed that his uncle Clifford was murdered during theRevolution, it was supposed by foreign soldiers, and he was buried inTrinity church-yard. 

Jacob Freeman, also a boy during the Revolution, deposed that hisfather and several other inhabitants of Woodbridge were arrested andsent to New York. His grandfather was sixty years old, and when hewas arrested, his son, who was concealed and could have escaped, cameout of his hiding-place and surrendered himself for the purpose ofaccompanying his father to prison. The son was a Lieutenant. They wereconfined in the Sugar House several months. Every day some of theprisoners died and were buried in Old Trinity church-yard. EnsignJacob Barnitz was wounded in both legs at the battle of FortWashington. He was conveyed to New York and there thrown into theSugar House, and suffered to lie on the damp ground. A kind friend hadhim conveyed to more comfortable quarters. Barnitz came from York, orLancaster, Pa. 

Little John Pennell was a cabin boy, bound to Captain White of thesloop of war, Nancy, in 1776. He testified that the prisoners of theSugar House, which was very damp, were buried on the hill called "TheHoly Ground. " "I saw where they were buried. The graves were long andsix feet wide. Five or six were buried in one grave. " It was TrinityChurch ground. 

We will now give an account of Levi Hanford, who was imprisoned in theSugar House in 1777. Levi Hanford was a son of Levi Hanford, and wasborn 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 inservice in New York. In March 1777, being then a member of a companycommanded by Captain Seth Seymour, he was captured with twelve othersunder Lieut. J. B. Eels, at the "Old Well" in South Norwalk, Conn. While a prisoner in the Old Sugar House he sent the followingletter to his father. A friend wrote the first part for him, and heappears to have finished it in his own handwriting. 

New York June 7. 1777

Loving Father:--

I take the opportunity to let you know I am alive, and in reasonablehealth, 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 seeif you can't get us exchanged--if you please. Matthias Comstock isdead. Sam. Hasted, Ebenezer Hoyt, Jonathan Kellog has gone to thehospital to be inoculated today. We want money very much. I have beensick but hope I am better. There is a doctor here that has helptme. * * * I would not go to the Hospital, for all manner of diseaseprevail there. * * * If you can possibly help us send to the Governorand try to help us. * * * Remember my kind love to all my friends. Iam

Your Obedient son, Levi Hanford. 

Poor Levi Hanford was sent to the prison ship, Good Intent, and wasnot exchanged until the 8th of May, 1778. 

In the "Journal of American History, " the third number of the secondvolume, on page 527, are the recollections of Thomas Stone, a soldierof the Revolution, who was born in Guilford, Conn. , in 1755. InApril, 1777, he enlisted under Capt. James Watson in Colonel SamuelWebb's Regiment, Connecticut line. He spent the following campaignnear the Hudson. The 9th of December following Stone and his comradesunder Gen. Parsons, embarked on board some small vessel at Norwalk, Conn, with a view to take a small fort on Long Island. "We left theshore, " 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 atdaybreak found ourselves alongside a British frigate. Our sloopgrounded, we struck our colors-fatal hour! We were conducted to NewYork, introduced to the Jersey Prison Ship. We were all destitute ofany clothing except what we had on; we now began to taste the vials ofMonarchial tender mercy. 

"About the 25th of Jan. 1778, we were taken from the ships to theSugar House, which during the inclement season was more intolerablethan the Ships. 

"We left the floating Hell with joy, but alas, our joy was of shortduration. 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 oncein three days to cook our small allowance of provision. There was ascene that truly tried body and soul. Old shoes were bought and eatenwith as much relish as a pig or a turkey; a beef bone of four or fiveounces, after it was picked clean, was sold by the British guard foras many coppers. 

"In the spring our misery increased; frozen feet began to mortify; bythe first of April, death took from our numbers, and, I hope, fromtheir misery, from seven to ten a day; and by the first of May out ofsixty-nine taken with me only fifteen were alive, and eight out ofthat number unable to work. 

"Death stared the living in the face: we were now attacked by a feverwhich threatened to clear our walls of its miserable inhabitants. 

"About the 20th of July I made my escape from the prison-yard. Justbefore the lamps were lighted. I got safely out of the city, passedall the guards, was often fired at, but still safe as to any injurydone me; arrived at Harlem River eastward of King's Bridge. 

"Hope and fear were now in full exercise. The alarm was struck by thesentinels keeping firing at me. I arrived at the banks ofHarlem, --five men met me with their bayonets at my heart; to resistwas instant death, and to give up, little better. 

"I was conducted to the main guard, kept there until morning thenstarted for New York with waiters with bayonets at my back, arrived atmy old habitation about 1 o'clock, P. M. ; was introduced to the Prisonkeeper who threatened me with instant death, gave me two heavy blowswith his cane; I caught his arm and the guard interfered. Was drivento 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 RefugeeLieutenant, offered to enlist me, offered a bounty, I declined. Nextday renewed the visit, made further offers, told me the General wasdetermined I should starve to death where I was unless I would entertheir service. I told him his General dare not do it. (I shall hereomit the imprecations I gave him in charge. )

"The third day I was visited by two British officers, offered me asergeant's post, threatened me with death as before, in case Irefused. I replied, 'Death if they dare!'

"In about ten minutes the door was opened, a guard took me to my oldhabitation the Sugar House, it being about the same time of day I leftmy cell that I entered it, being three days and nights without amorsel of food or a drop of water, --all this for the crime of gettingout of prison. When in the dungeon reflecting upon my situation Ithought if ever mortal could be justified in praying for thedestruction of his enemies, I am the man. 

"After my escape the guard was augmented, and about this time a newprison keeper was appointed, our situation became more tolerable. 

"The 16th of July was exchanged. Language would fail me to describethe joy of that hour; but it was transitory. On the morning of the16th, some friends, or what is still more odious, some Refugees, castinto the Prison yard a quantity of warm bread, and it was devouredwith greediness. The prison gate was opened, we marched out about thenumber of 250. Those belonging to the North and Eastern States wereconducted to the North River and driven on board the flag ship, andlanded at Elizabethtown, New Jersey. Those who ate of the bread soonsickened; there was death in the bread they had eaten. Some began tocomplain in about half an hour after eating the bread, one was takensick 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 twomiles, being led most of the way by two men. About one half of ournumber did not eat of the bread, as a report had been brought into theprison _that the prisoners taken at Fort Washington had beenpoisoned in the same way_. 

"The sick were conveyed in wagons to White Plains, where I expected tomeet my regiment, but they had been on the march to Rhode Island Ibelieve, about a week. I was now in a real dilemma; I had not thevestige of a shirt to my body, was moneyless and friendless. What todo I knew not. Unable to walk, a gentleman, I think his name wasAllen, offered to carry me to New Haven, which he did. The next day Iwas conveyed to Guilford, the place of my birth, but no near relativeto help me. Here I learned that my father had died in the service theSpring before. I was taken in by a hospitable uncle, but in moderatecircumstances. Dr. Readfield attended me for about four months I wassalivated twice, but it had no good effect. They sent me 30 miles toDr Little of East Haddam, who under kind Providence restored me tosuch state of health that I joined my Regiment in the Springfollowing. 

"In the year 1780, I think in the month of June, General Green met theenemy at Springfield, New Jersey, and in the engagement I had my leftelbow dislocated in the afternoon. The British fired the village andretreated. We pursued until dark. The next morning my arm was soswollen that it _could_ not, or at least was not put right, andit has been ever since a weak, feeble joint, which has disabled mefrom 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 nowindows left in the building, and that during the winter season thesnow would be driven entirely across the great rooms in the differentstories, and in the morning lie in drifts upon our poor, hungry, unprotected prisoners. Of a morning several frozen corpses would bedragged out, thrown into wagons like logs, then driven away andpitched into a large hole or trench, and covered up like dead brutes. "

Speaking of the custom of sending the exchanged prisoners as far aspossible from their own homes, he says: "I well remember hearing mygrandfather explain this strange conduct of the enemy in the followingway. Alter the poison was thus perfidiously administered, theprisoners belonging at the North were sent across to the Jersey side, while those of the South were sent in an opposite direction, theintention of the enemy evidently being to send the exchanged prisonersas far from home as possible, that most of them might die of theeffect of the poison before reaching their friends. Grandfather usedto speak of the treatment of our prisoners as most cruel andmurderous, though charging it more to the Tories or Refugees than tothe British. 

"The effects of the poison taken into his system were never eradicatedin the life-time of my grandfather, a 'breaking out, ' or rash, appearing every spring, greatly to his annoyance and discomfort. "

CHAPTER XVI

THE CASE OF JOHN BLATCHFORD

In our attempt to describe the sufferings of American prisoners takenduring the Revolution, we have, for the most part, confined ourselvesto New York, only because we have been unable to make extensiveresearch into the records of the British prisons in other places. Butwhat little we have been able to gather on the subject of theprisoners sent out of America we will also lay before our readers. 

We have already stated the fact that some of our prisoners were sentto India and some to Africa. They seem to have been sold into slavery, and purchased by the East India Company, and the African Company aswell. 

It is doubtful if any of the poor prisoners sent to the unwholesomeclimate of Africa ever returned to tell the story of British crueltiesinflicted upon them there, --where hard work in the burningsun, --scanty fare, --and jungle fever soon ended their miseries. Butone American prisoner escaped from the Island of Sumatra, where he hadbeen employed in the pepperfields belonging to the East IndiaCompany. His story is eventful, and we will give the reader anabridgement of it, as it was told by himself, in his narrative, firstpublished in a New England newspaper. 

John Blatchford was born at Cape Ann, Mass. , in the year 1762. InJune, 1777, he went as a cabin boy on board the Hancock, a continentalship commanded by Capt. John Manly. On the 8th of July the Hancock wascaptured by the Rainbow, under Sir George Collier, and her crew wastaken to Halifax. 

John Blatchford was, at this time, in his sixteenth year. He was ofmedium height, with broad shoulders, full chest, and well proportionedfigure. His complexion was sallow, his eyes dark, and his hair blackand curly. He united great strength with remarkable endurance, else hecould not have survived the rough treatment he experienced at thehands of fate. It is said that as a man he was temperate, grave, anddignified, and although his strength was so great, and his couragemost undaunted, yet he was peaceable and slow to anger. His narrativeappears to have been dictated by himself to some better educatedperson. It was first published in New London, Conn. , in the year1788. In the year 1797 an abstract of it appeared in Philip Freneau's_Time Piece_, a paper published in New York. In July, 1860, theentire production was published in the _Cape Ann Gazette_. Wewill now continue the narrative in Blatchford's own words:

"On our arrival at Halifax we were taken on shore and confined in aprison which had formerly been a sugar-house. 

"The large number of prisoners confined in this house, near 300, together with a scanty allowance of provisions, occasioned it to bevery sickly. * * * George Barnard, who had been a midshipman on theHancock, and who was confined in the same room as myself, concerted aplan to release us, which was to be effected by digging a smallpassage under ground, to extend to a garden that was behind theprison, and without the prison wall, where we might make a breach inthe night with safety, and probably all obtain our liberty. This plangreatly elated our spirits, and we were anxious to proceed immediatelyin executing it. 

"Our cabins were built one above another, from the floor to the heightof a man's head; and mine was pitched upon to be taken up; and six ofus agreed to do the work, whose names were George Barnard, WilliamAtkins, late midshipmen in the Hancock; Lemuel Towle of Cape Ann, Isaiah Churchill of Plymouth; Asa Cole of Weathersfield, and myself. 

"We took up the cabin and cut a hole in the plank underneath. Thesugar house stood on a foundation of stone which raised the floor fourfeet above the ground, and gave us sufficient room to work, and toconvey away the dirt that we dug up. 

"The instruments that we had to work with were one scraper, one longspike, and some sharp sticks; with these we proceeded in our difficultundertaking. As the hole was too small to admit of more than oneperson 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. Bythis time we supposed we had dug far enough, and word was given outamong the prisoners to prepare themselves for flight. 

"But while we were in the midst of our gayety, congratulatingourselves upon our prospects, we were basely betrayed by one of ourown countrymen, whose name was Knowles. He had been a midshipman onboard the Boston frigate, and was put on board the Fox when she wastaken by the Hancock and Boston. What could have induced him tocommit so vile an action cannot be conceived, as no advantage couldaccrue to him from our detection, and death was the certainconsequence to many of his miserable countrymen. That it was so isall that I can say. A few hours before we were to have attempted ourescape Knowles informed the Sergeant of the guard of our design, andby his treachery cost his country the lives of more than one hundredvaluable citizens, --fathers, and husbands, whose return would haverejoiced the hearts of now weeping, fatherless children, and calledforth tears of joy from wives, now helpless and disconsolate widows. 

"When we were discovered the whole guard were ordered into the roomand being informed by Knowles who it was that performed the work wewere all six confined in irons; the hole was filled up and a sentinelconstantly placed in the room, to prevent any further attempt. 

"We were all placed in close confinement, until two of myfellow-sufferers, Barnard and Cole, died; one of which was put intothe ground with his irons on his hands. 

"I was afterwards permitted to walk the yard. But as my irons were toosmall, and caused my hands to swell, and made them very sore, I askedthe Sergeant to take them off and give me larger ones. He being aperson of humanity, and compassionating my sufferings, changed myirons for others that were larger, and more easy to 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 mewhether I wanted to run away again, and when I was going home, etc?

"His daily affronts, together with his conduct in betraying, hiscountrymen, so exasperated me that I wished for nothing more than anopportunity to convince him that I did not love him. 

"One day as he was tantalizing over me as usual, I suddenly drew myone 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 verymuch. He cried out that the prisoner had got loose, but before anyassistance came, I had put my hand again into the hand-cuff, and waswalking about the yard as usual. When the guard came they demanded ofme in what manner I struck him. I replied with both my hands. 

"They then tried to pull my hands out, but could not, and concluded itmust be as I said. Some laughed and some were angry, but in the end Iwas ordered again into prison. 

"The next day I was sent on board the Greyhound, frigate, Capt. Dickson, bound on a cruise in Boston Bay. 

"After being out a few days we met with a severe gale of wind, inwhich we sprung our main-mast, and received considerable otherdamage. We were then obliged to bear away for the West Indies, and onour passage fell in with and took a brig from Norwich, laden withstock. 

"The Captain and hands were put on board a Danish vessel the sameday. We carried the brig into Antigua, where we immediately repaired, and were ordered in company of the Vulture, sloop of war, to convoy asloop of merchantmen into New York. 

"We left the fleet off Sandy Hook, and sailed for Philadelphia, wherewe lay until we were made a packet, and ordered for Halifax withdispatches. We had a quick passage, and arrived safe. 

"While we lay in the road Admiral Byron arrived, in the Princess Royalfrom England, who, being short of men, and we having a surplusage fora packet, many of our men were ordered on board the Princess Royal, and among them most of our boat's crew. 

"Soon after, some of the officers going on shore, I was ordered intothe boat. We landed at the Governor's slip--it being then nearnight. This was the first time since I had been on board the Greyhoundthat I had had an opportunity to escape from her, as they were beforethis particularly careful of me; therefore I was determined to getaway if possible, and to effect it I waded round a wharf and went up abyway, fearing I should meet the officers. I soon got into the street, and made the best of my way towards Irishtown (the southern suburbs ofHalifax) where I expected to be safe, but unfortunately while runningI 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 mepass, but it was in vain, he ordered me to follow him. 

"I offered him what money I had, about seven shillings, sixpence, tolet 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 meto go back with him. I refused and told him to keep his distance. Hethen run upon me and pushed his bayonet into my side. It come outnear my navel; but the wound was not very deep; he then made a secondpass at me, and stabbed me through my arm; he was about to stab me athird time, when I struck him with the stone and knocked him down. Ithen run, but the guard who had been alarmed, immediately took me andcarried me before the Governor, where I understood the man was dead. 

"I was threatened with every kind of death, and ordered out of theGovernor's presence. * * * Next day I was sent on board the Greyhound, the ship I had run from, and we sailed for England. Our captain beinga humane man ordered my irons off, a few days after we sailed, andpermitted me to do duty as formerly. Being out thirteen days we spokethe Hazard sloop of war, who informed that the French fleet was thencruising in the English Channel. For this reason we put into Cork, andthe dispatches were forwarded to England. 

"While we lay in the Cove of Cork I jumped overboard with theintention of getting away; unfortunately I was discovered and fired atby the marines; the boat was immediately sent after me, took me up, and carried me on board again. At this time almost all the officerswere 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 runforward, he followed me, and as I was running back he came up with meand threw me down the main-hold. The fall, together with the beatingwas so severe that I was deprived of my senses for a considerabletime. 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. Inthis situation I lay eighteen days till our officers, who had been onbusiness to Dublin, came on board. The captain inquired for theprisoners, and on being informed of my situation came down with thedoctor to set my bones, but finding them callussed they concluded notto meddle with me. 

"The ship lay at Cork until the French fleet left the Channel, andthen sailed for Spithead. On our arrival there I was sent in irons onboard the Princess Amelia, and the next day was carried on board theBrittania, in Portsmouth Harbor, to be tried before Sir Thomas Pye, lord high admiral of England, and President of the court martial. 

"Before the officers had collected I was put under the care of asentinel, and the seamen and women who came on board compassionated mysufferings, which rather heightened than diminished my distress. 

"I was sitting under the awning, almost overpowered by the reflectionof my unhappy situation, every morning expecting to be summoned for mytrial, when I heard somebody enquire for the prisoner, and supposingit to be an officer I rose up and answered that I was there. 

"The gentleman came to me, told me to be of good chear, and taking outa bottle of cordial, bade me drink, which I did. He then enquiredwhere I belonged. I informed him. He asked me if I had parentsliving, and if I had any friends in England? I answered I hadneither. He then assured me he was my friend, and would render me allthe assistance in his power. He then enquired of me every circumstancerelative to my fray with the man at Halifax, for whose death I was nowto be tried and instructed me what to say on my trial, etc. "

Whether this man was a philanthropist, or an agent for the East IndiaCompany, we do not know. He instructed Blatchford to plead guilty, and then defended him from the charge of murder, no doubt on the pleaof self-defence. Blatchford was therefore acquitted of murder, butapparently sold to the East India Company as a slave. How this wascondoned we do not know, but will let the poor sailor continue hisnarrative in his own words. 

"I was carried on board an Indiaman, and immediately put down into therun, where I was confined ten days. * * * On the seventh day I heardthe 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 belongingto the East India Company. " He had been told that he was to be sentback to America to be exchanged, and his disappointment amountedalmost to despair. 

"Our captain told me if I behaved well and did my duty I shouldreceive as good usage as any man on board; this gave me greatencouragement. I now found my destiny fixed, that whatever I could dowould not in the least alter my situation, and therefor was determinedto do the best I could, and make myself as contented as my unfortunatesituation would admit. 

"After being on board seven days I found there were in the PrincessRoyal 82 Americans, all destined to the East Indies, for being whatthey called 'Rebels. '

"We had a passage of seventeen weeks to St Helena, where we put in andlanded part of our cargo, which consisted wholly of provisions. * * *The ship lay here about three weeks. We then sailed for Batavia, andon the passage touched at the Cape of Good Hope, where we found thewhole of the fleet that sailed with us from England. We took in someprovisions and necessaries, and set sail for Batavia, where we arrivedin ten weeks. Here we purchased a large quantity of arrack, andremained a considerable time. 

"We then sailed for Bencoulen in the Island of Sumatria, and after apassage of about six weeks arrived there. This was in June, 1780. 

"At this place the Americans were all carried on shore, and I foundthat I was no longer to remain on board the ship, but condemned toserve as a soldier for five years. I offered to bind myself to thecaptain for five years, or any longer term if I might serve on boardthe ship. He told me it was impossible for me to be released fromacting as a soldier, unless I could pay £50, sterling. As I was unableto do this I was obliged to go through the manual exercise with theother prisoners; among whom was Wm. Randall of Boston, and JosiahFolgier of Nantucket, both young men, and one of them an old ship-mateof mine. 

"These two and myself agreed to behave as ignorant and awkward aspossible, and what motions we learned one day we were to forget thenext. We pursued this conduct nearly a fortnight, and were beatenevery day by the drill-sergeant who exercised us, and when he found wewere determined, in our obstinacy, and that it was not possible forhim to learn us anything, we were all three sent into the peppergardens belonging to the East India Company; and continued pickingpeppers from morning till night, and allowed but two scanty meals aday. This, together with the amazing heat of the sun, the island lyingunder the equator, was too much for an American constitution, unusedto a hot climate, and we expected that we should soon end our miseryand our lives; but Providence still preserved us for greaterhardships. 

"The Americans died daily with heat and hard fare, which determined mytwo comrades and myself in an endeavor to make our escape. We had beenin the pepper-gardens four months when an opportunity offered, and weresolved upon trying our fortune. Folgier, Randall and myself sat outwith an intention of reaching Croy (a small harbor where the Dutchoften 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 ofa stick. Randall and myself had nothing but staves, which were all theweapons we carried with us. We provided ourselves with fireworks [hemeans flints to strike fire] for our journey, which we pursuedunmolested till the fourth day just at night, when we heard a rustlein the bushes and discovered nine sepoys, who rushed out upon us. 

"Folgier being the most resolute of us run at one of them, and pushedhis bayonet through his body into a tree. Randall knocked downanother; but they overpowered us, bound us, and carried us back to thefort, which we reached in a day and a half, though we had been fourdays travelling from it, owing to the circle we made by going roundthe shore, and they came across the woods being acquainted with theway. 

"Immediately on our arrival at the fort the Governor called a courtmartial, to have us tried. We were soon all condemned to be shot nextmorning at seven o'clock, and ordered to be sent into the dungeon andconfined in irons, where we were attended by an adjutant who brought apriest with him to pray and converse with us, but Folgier, who hatedthe sight of an Englishman, desired that we might be left alone. * * *the clergyman reprimanded him, and told him he made very light of hissituation on the supposition that he would be reprieved; but if heexpected it he deceived himself. Folgier still persisted in theclergyman's leaving us, if he would have us make our peace with God, 'for, ' said he, 'the sight of Englishmen, from whom we have receivedsuch treatment, is more disagreeable than the evil spirits of whichyou have spoken;' that, if he could have his choice, he would choosedeath in preference to life, if he must have it on the condition ofsuch barbarous usage as he had received from their hands; and thethoughts of death did not seem so hideous to him as his pastsufferings. 

"He visited us again about midnight, but finding his company was notacceptable, he soon left us to our melancholy reflections. 

"Before sunrise we heard the drums beat, and soon after heard thedireful noise of the door grating on its iron hinges. We were alltaken out, our irons taken off, and we conducted by a strong guard ofsoldiers to the parade, surrounded by a circle of armed men, and ledinto the midst of them, where three white officers were placed by ourside;--silence was then commanded, and the adjutant taking a paper outof his pocket read our sentence;--and now I cannot describe myfeelings upon this occasion, nor can it be felt by any one but thosewho have experienced some remarkable deliverance from the grim hand ofdeath, when surrounded on all sides, and nothing but death expectedfrom every quarter, and by Divine Providence there is some way foundout for escape--so it seemed to me when the adjutant pulled outanother paper from his pocket and read: 'That the Governor andCouncil, in consideration of the youth of Randall and myself, supposing us to be led on by Folgier, who was the oldest, thoughtproper to pardon us from death, and that instead we were to receive800 lashes each. '

"Although this last sentence seemed terrible to me, yet in comparisonwith death, it seemed to be light. Poor Folgier was shot in ourpresence, --previous to which we were told we might go and conversewith him. Randall went and talked with him first, and after him I wentup to take my leave, but my feelings were such at the time I had notpower to utter a single word to my departing friend, who seemed asundaunted and seemingly as willing to die as I was to be released, andtold me not to forget the promises we had formerly made to each other, which was to embrace the first opportunity to escape. 

"We parted, and he was immediately after shot dead. We were next takenand tied, and the adjutant brought a small whip made of cotton, whichconsisted of a number of strands and knotted at the ends; but theseknots 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. 

"After being whipped 800 lashes we were sent to the Company'shospital, where we had been about three weeks when Randall told me heintended very soon to make his escape:--This somewhat surprised me, asI had lost all hopes of regaining my liberty, and supposed he had. Itold him I had hoped he would never mention it again; but however, ifthat was his design, I would accompany him. He advised me, if I wasfearful, to tarry behind; but finding he was determined on going, Iresolved to run the risque once more; and as we were then in ahospital we were not suspected of such a design. 

"Having provided ourselves with fire-works, and knives, about thefirst of December, 1780, we sat out, with the intent to reach theDutch settlement of Croy, which is about two or three hundred milesdistance upon a direct line, but as we were obliged to travel alongthe coast (fearing to risque the nearest way), it was a journey of 800miles. 

"We took each a stick and hung it around our neck, and every day cut anotch, which was the method we took to keep time. 

"In this manner we travelled, living upon fruit, turtle eggs, andsometimes turtle, which we cooked every night with the fire we builtto secure us from wild beasts, they being in great plenty, --such asbuffaloes, tigers, jackanapes, leopards, lions, and baboons andmonkies. 

"On the 30th day of our traveling we met with nothing we could eat andfound no water. At night we found some fruit which appeared to theeyes to be very delicious, different from any we had seen in ourtravels. It resembled a fruit which grows in the West Indies, called aJack, about the size of an orange. We being very dry and hungryimmediately gathered some of this fruit, but finding it of a sweet, sickish taste, I eat but two. Randall eat freely. In the evening wefound we were poisoned: I was sick and puked considerably, Randall wassick 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, andleft me to mourn my greater wretchedness, --more than 400 miles fromany settlement, no companion, the wide ocean on one side, and aprowling wilderness on the other, liable to many kinds of death, moreterrible than being shot. 

"I laid down by Randall's body, wishing, if possible, that he mightreturn and tell me what course to take. My thoughts almost distractedme, so that I was unable to do anything untill the next day, duringall which time I continued by the side of Randall. I then got up andmade a hole in the sand and buried him. 

"I now continued my journey as well as the weak state of my body wouldpermit, --the weather being at the time extremely hot and rainy. Ifrequently lay down and would wish that I might never riseagain;--despair had almost wholly possessed me; and sometimes in akind of delirium I would fancy I heard my mother's voice, and myfather calling me, and I would answer them. At other times my wildimagination would paint to my view scenes which I was acquaintedwith. Then supposing myself near home I would run as fast as my legscould carry me. Frequently I fancied that I heard dogs bark, mencutting wood, and every noise which I have heard in my native country. 

"One day as I was travelling a small dog, as I thought it to be, camefawning round me and followed me, but I soon discovered it to be ayoung lion. I supposed that its dam must be nigh, and thereforerun. It followed me some time and then left me. I proceeded on, buthad not got far from it before it began to cry. I looked round and sawa lioness making towards it. She yelled most frightfully, whichgreatly terrified me; but she laid down something from her mouth forher young one, and then with another yell turned and went off from me. 

"Some days after I was travelling by the edge of a woods, which fromits appearance had felt severely the effects of a tornado orhurricane, the trees being all torn up by the roots, and I heard acrackling noise in the bushes. Looking about I saw a monstrous largetiger making slowly towards me, which frightened me exceedingly. Whenhe had approached within a few rods of me, in my surprise I lifted upmy hands and hollowed very loud. The sudden noise frightened him, seemingly as much as I had been, and he immediately turned and runinto the woods, and I saw him no more. 

"After this I continued to travel on without molestation, only fromthe monkies who were here so plentiful that oftentimes I saw them inlarge droves; sometimes I run from them, as if afraid of them, theywould then follow, grin, and chatter at me, and when they got near Iwould turn, and they would run from me back into the woods, and climbthe trees to get out of my way. 

"It was now 15 weeks since I had left the hospital. I had travelledmost 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 ofrocks. I had heard it a considerable time and at last began to suspectit was nothing, but imaginary, as many other noises I had beforethought to have heard. I however went on as fast as I could, and atlength discovered a brook. On approaching it I was not a littlesurprised and rejoiced by the sight of a Female Indian, who wasfishing at the brook. She had no other dress on than that which mothernature affords impartially to all her children, except a small clothwhich she wore round her waist. 

"I knew not how to address myself to her. I was afraid if I spoke shewould run, and therefore I made a small noise; upon which she lookedround, and seeing me, run across the brook, seemingly much frightened, leaving her fishing line. I went up to her basket which contained fiveor six fish which looked much like our trout. I took up the basket andattempted to wade across where she had passed, but was too weak towade across in that place, and went further up the stream, where Ipassed over, and then looking for the Indian woman I saw her at somedistance behind a large cocoa-nut tree. I walked towards her but darednot keep my eyes steadily upon her lest she would run as she didbefore. I called to her in English, and she answered in her owntongue, which I could not understand. I then called to her in theMalaysian, which I understood a little of; she answered me in a kindof surprise and asked me in the name of Okrum Footee (the name oftheir God) from whence I came, and where I was going. I answered heras 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, bywhom I had been taken in war. She told me that she had been taken bythe Malays some years before, for that the two nations were always atwar, and that she had been kept as a slave among them three years andwas then retaken by her countrymen. While we were talking together sheappeared to be very shy, and I durst not come nearer than a rod toher, lest she should run from me. She said that Croy, the place I wasbound to, was about three miles distant: That if I would follow hershe would conduct me to her countrymen, who were but a small distanceoff. I begged her to plead with her countrymen to spare my life. Shesaid she would, and assured me that if I behaved well I should not behurt. She then conducted me to a small village, consisting of huts orwigwams. When we arrived at the village the children that saw me werefrightened and run away from me, and the women exhibited a great dealof fear and kept at a distance. But my guide called to them and toldthem not to be afraid, for that I was not come to hurt them, and theninformed them from whence I came, and that I was going to Croy. 

"I told my guide I was very hungry, and she sent the children forsomething for me to eat. They came and brought me little round ballsof rice, and they, not daring to come nigh, threw them at me. These Ipicked up and eat. Afterwards a woman brought some rice and goat'smilk in a copper bason, and setting it on the ground made signs for meto take it up and eat it, which I did, and then put the bason downagain. They then poked away the bason with a stick, battered it withstones, and making a hole in the ground, buried it. 

"After that they conducted me to a small hut, and told me to tarrythere until the morning, when they would conduct me to the harbor. Ihad 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 Isupposed were placed there to watch me. 

"Early in the morning numbers came around the hut, and the female whowas my guide asked me where my country was? I could not make herunderstand, only that it was at a great distance. She then asked me ifmy countrymen eat men? I told her, no, and seeing some goats pointedat them, and told her we eat such as them. She then asked me what mademe white, and if it was not the white rain that come upon us when wewere small * * * as I wished to please them I told her that I supposedit 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 untilit returned, and then the people all grew white again. This seemed toplease them very much. 

"My protectress then brought a young man to me who she said was herbrother, and who would show me the way to the harbour. She then cut astick about eight feet long, and he took hold of one end and gave methe other. She told me that she had instructed her brother what to sayat the harbour. He then led off, and I followed. During our walk Iput 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 fallflat on the ground and kiss it: this he repeated as often as I madeany sign or token of friendship to him. 

"When we had got near the harbor he made a sign for me to sit downupon a rock, which I did. He then left me and went, as I supposed, totalk to the people at the water concerning me; but I had not sat longbefore I saw a vessel coming round the point into the harbor. 

"They soon came on shore in the boat. I went down to them and made mycase 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 hadwooded and watered they set sail for Batavia:--being out about threeweeks we arrived there: I tarried on board her about three weekslonger, and then got on board a Spanish ship which was from Rio de laPlate bound to Spain, but by stress of weather was obliged to put intothis port. After the vessel had repaired we sailed for Spain. When wemade the Cape of Good Hope we fell in with two British cruisers oftwenty guns each, who engaged us and did the vessel considerabledamage, but at length we beat them off, and then run for the coast ofBrazil, where we arrived safe, and began to work at repairing ourship, but upon examination she was found to be not fit to proceed onher voyage. She was therefore condemned. I then left her and got onboard a Portuguese snow bound up to St. Helena, and we arrived safe atthat place. 

"I then went on shore and quitted her and engaged in the garrisonthere to do duty as a soldier for my provisions till some ship shouldarrive there bound for England. After serving there a month I enteredon board a ship called the Stormont, but orders were soon afterreceived that no Indiaman should sail without convoy; and we lay heresix months, during which time the Captain died. 

"While I was in St. Helena the vessel in which I came out from Englandarrived here, homeward bound; she being on the return from her secondvoyage since I came from England. And now I made known my case toCaptain Kerr, who readily took me on board the Princess Royal, andused me kindly and those of my old ship-mates on board were glad tosee me again. Captain Kerr on first seeing me asked me if I was notafraid to let him know who I was, and endeavored to frighten me; yethis conduct towards me was humane and kind. 

"It had been very sickly on board the Princess Royal, and the greaterpart of the hands who came out of England in her had died, and she wasnow manned chiefly with lascars. Among those who had died was theboatswain, and boatswain's mate, and Captain Kerr made me boatswain ofthe ship, in which office I continued until we arrived in London, andit protected me from being impressed upon our arrival in England. 

"We sailed from St. Helena about the first of November, 1781, underconvoy of the Experiment of fifty guns, commanded by Captain Henry, and the Shark sloop of war of 18 guns, and we arrived in London aboutthe first of March, 1782, it having been about two years and a halffrom the time I had left it. 

"In about a fortnight after our arrival in London I entered on boardthe King George, a store-ship bound to Antigua, and after four weekspassage arrived there. 

"The second night after we came to anchor in Antigua I took the ship'sboat and escaped in her to Montserrat (in the West Indies) which placehad but just before been taken by the French. 

"Here I did not meet with the treatment which I expected; for on myarrival at Montserrat I was immediately taken up and put in prison, where I continued twenty-four hours, and my boat taken from me. I wasthen sent to Guadaloupe, and examined by the Governor. I made known mycase to him, by acquainting him with the misfortunes I had gonethrough in my captivity, and in making my escape. He seemed tocommiserate me, gave me ten dollars for the boat that I escaped in, and provided a passage for me on board a French brigantine that wasbound from Gaudaloupe 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 outtwenty-one days we fell in with the Anphitrite and Amphene, twoBritish cruizers, off the Capes of Delaware, by which we were taken, carried in to New York and put on board the Jersey prison ship. Afterbeing on board about a week a cartel was fitted out for France, and Iwas sent on board as a French prisoner. The cartel was ordered forSt. Maloes, and after a passage of thirty-two days we arrived safe atthat place. 

"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 arrivalthere I found three American privateers belonging to Beverley in theMassachusetts. I was much elated at seeing so many of my countrymen, some of whom I was well acquainted with. I immediately entered onboard the Buccaneer, Captain Pheirson. We sailed on a cruise, andafter being out eighteen days we returned to L'Orient with sixprizes. Three days after our arrival in port we heard the joyful newsof peace; on which the privateer was dismantled, the peopledischarged, and Captain P sailed on a merchant voyage to Norway. 

"I then entered on board a brig bound to Lisbon (Captain Ellenwood ofBeverley) and arrived at Lisbon in eight days. We took in a cargo ofsalt, and sailed for Beverley, where we arrived the ninth of May, 1783. Being now only fifteen miles from home, I immediately set outfor Cape Ann, went to my father's house, and had an agreeable meetingwith my friends, after an absence of almost six years. 

"John Blatchford

"New London, May 10th, 1788. 

"N. B. Those who are acquainted with the narrator will not scruple togive full credence to the foregoing account, and others may satisfythemselves by conversing with him. The scars he carries are a proof ofhis narrative, and a gentleman of New London who was several monthswith him, was acquainted with part of his sufferings, though it wasout of his power to relieve him. He is a poor man with a wife and twochildren. His employment is fishing and coasting. _Editor_. "

Our readers may be interested to know what became of John Blatchford, who wrote, or dictated, the narrative we have given, in the year1788. He was, at that time, a married man. He had married a youngwoman named Ann Grover. He entered the merchant marine, and died atPort au Prince about the year 1794, when nearly thirty-three years ofage. Thus early closed the career of a brave man, who had experiencedmuch 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 theEast Indies who ever returned to tell the story of the barbaritiesinflicted upon him. 

CHAPTER XVII

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AND OTHERS ON THE SUBJECT OF AMERICAN PRISONERS

When Benjamin Franklin and Silas Deane were in Paris they wrote thefollowing letter to Lord Stormont, the English Ambassador to France. 

Paris, April 2nd, 1777. 

My Lord:--

We did ourselves the honor of writing some time since to your Lordshipon the subject of exchanging prisoners: you did not condescend to giveus any answer, and therefore we expect none to this. We, however, takethe liberty of sending you copies of certain depositions which weshall transmit to Congress, whereby it will be known to your Court, that the United States are not unacquainted with the barbaroustreatment their people receive when they have the misfortune to beyour prisoners here in Europe, and that if your conduct towards us isnot altered, it is not unlikely that severe reprisals may be thoughtjustifiable from a necessity of putting some check to such abominablepractices. For the sake of humanity it is to be wished that men wouldendeavor to alleviate the unavoidable miseries attending a state ofwar. It has been said that among the civilized nations of Europe theancient horrors of that state are much diminished; but the compellingmen by chains, stripes, and famine to fight against their friends andrelatives, is a new mode of barbarity, which your nation alone has thehonor of inventing, and the sending American prisoners of war toAfrica and Asia, remote from all probability of exchange, and wherethey can scarce hope ever to hear from their families, even if theunwholesomeness of the climate does not put a speedy end to theirlives, is a manner of treating captives that you can justify by noother precedent or custom except that of the black savages ofGuinea. We are your Lordship's most obedient, humble servants, Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane. 

The reply to this letter was laconic. 

"The King's Ambassador recognizes no letters from Rebels, except whenthey come to ask mercy. "

Inclosed in the letter from our representatives were the followingdepositions. 

THE DEPOSITION OF ELIPHALET DOWNER

Eliphalet Downer, Surgeon, taken in the Yankee privateer, testifiesthat after he was made prisoner by Captains Ross and Hodge, who tookadvantage of the generous conduct of Captain Johnson of the Yankee tothem his prisoners, and of the confidence he placed in them inconsequence of that conduct and their assurances; he and hiscountrymen were closely confined, yet assured that on their arrival inport they should be set at liberty, and these assurances were repeatedin the most solemn manner, instead of which they were, on theirapproach to land, in the hot weather of August, shut up in a smallcabin; the windows of which were spiked down and no air admitted, insomuch that they were all in danger of suffocation from theexcessive heat. 

Three or four days after their arrival in the river Thames they wererelieved from this situation in the middle of the night, hurried onboard a tender and sent down to Sheerness, where the deponent was putinto the Ardent, and there falling sick of a violent fever inconsequence of such treatment, and languishing in that situation forsome time, he was removed, still sick, to the Mars, andnotwithstanding repeated petitions to be suffered to be sent to prisonon shore, he was detained until having the appearance of amortification in his legs, he was sent to Haslar hospital, from whenceafter recovering his health, he had the good fortune to make hisescape. 

While on board those ships and in the hospital he was informed andbelieves that many of his countrymen, after experiencing even worsetreatment than he, were sent to the East Indies, and many of thosetaken at Quebec were sent to the coast of Africa, as soldiers. 

THE DEPOSITION OF CAPTAIN SETH CLARK OF NEWBURY PORT IN THE STATE OFMASSACHUSETTS BAY IN AMERICA

"This deponent saith that on his return from Cape Nichola Mole toNewbury Port, he was taken on the 17th of September last by an armedschooner in his British Majesty's service, ---- Coats, Esquire, Commander, and carried down to Jamaica, on his arrival at which placehe was sent on board the Squirrel, another armed vessel, ---- Douglas, Esquire, Commander, where, although master and half owner of thevessel in which he was taken, he was returned as a common sailorbefore the mast, and in that situation sailed for England in the monthof November, on the twenty-fifth of which month they took a schoonerfrom Port a Pie to Charlestown, S. C. , to which place she belonged, when the owner, Mr. Burt, and the master, Mr. Bean, were brought onboard. On the latter's denying he had any ship papers Captain Douglasordered him to be stripped and tied up and then whipped with a wirecat of nine tails that drew blood every stroke and then on his sayingthat he had thrown his papers overboard he was untied and ordered tohis duty as a common sailor, with no place for himself or his peopleto lay on but the decks. On their arrival at Spithead, the deponentwas removed to the Monarch, and there ordered to do duty as afore-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 spokeone word to the contrary he should be brought to the gangway, andthere severely flogged. 

"After this he was again removed and put on board the Bar-fleur, wherehe remained until the tenth of February. On board this ship thedeponent saw several American prisoners, who were closely confined andironed, with only four men's allowance to six. These prisoners andothers informed this deponent that a number of American prisoners hadbeen taken out of the ship and sent to the East Indies and the coastof Africa, which he has told would have been his fate, had he arrivedsooner. 

"This deponent further saith, That in Haslar hospital, to which placeon account of sickness he was removed from the Bar-fleur, he saw aCaptain Chase of Providence, New England, who told him he had beentaken in a sloop of which he was half owner and master, on his passagefrom Providence to South Carolina, by an English transport, and turnedover 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 foremostman until his arrival in England, when being dangerously ill he wassent to said hospital. "

Paris March 30th. 1777. 

Benjamin Franklin, in a letter written in 1780, to a Mr. Hartley, anEnglish gentleman who was opposed to the war, said that Congress hadinvestigated the cruelties perpetrated by the English upon theirdefenceless prisoners, and had instructed him to prepare a _schoolbook_ for the use of American children, to be illustrated bythirty-five good engravings, each to picture some scene of horror, some enormity of suffering, such as should indelibly impress upon theminds of the school children a dread of British rule, and a hatred ofBritish malice and wickedness!

The old philosopher did not accomplish this task: had he done so it isimprobable that we would have so long remained in ignorance of some ofthe facts which we are now endeavoring to collect. It will be pleasantto glance, for a moment, on the other side the subject. It is wellknown that there was a large party in England, who, like BenjaminFranklin's correspondent, were opposed to the war; men of humanity, fair-minded enough to sympathize with the struggles of an oppressedpeople, of the same blood as themselves. 

"The Prisoners of 1776, A Relic of the Revolution, " is a little bookedited by the Rev. R. Livesey, and published in Boston, in 1854. Thefacts in this volume were complied from the journal of Charles Herbertof Newburyport, Mass. This young man was taken prisoner in December, 1776. He was a sailor on board the brigantine Dolton. He and hiscompanions were confined in the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, England. 

Herbert, who was in his nineteenth year, was a prisoner more than twoyears. He managed to keep a journal during his captivity, and has leftus an account of his treatment by the English which is a pleasantrelief in its contrast to the dark pictures that we have drawn of thewretchedness of American prisoners elsewhere. A collection of upwardsof $30, 000 was taken up in England for the relief of our prisonersconfined in English jails. 

Herbert secreted his journal in a chest which had a false bottom. Itis too long to give in its entirety, but we have made a few extractswhich will describe the treatment the men received in England, whereall that was done was open to public inspection, and where no suchinhuman monsters as Cunningham were suffered to work their evil willupon their victims. 

"Dec. 24th, 1776. We were taken by the Reasonable, man-of-war of 64guns. I put on two shirts, pair of drawers and breeches, and trousersover them, two or three jackets, and a pair of new shoes, and thenfilled my bosom and pockets as full as I could carry. Nothing but afew old rags and twelve old blankets were sent to us. Ordered down tothe cable tier. Almost suffocated. Nothing but the bare cable to lieon, and that very uneven. 

"Jan. 15, 1777. We hear that the British forces have taken FortWashington with a loss of 800. "

After several changes Herbert was put on board the Tarbay, a ship of74 guns, and confined between decks, with not room for all to lie downat once. 

"Very cold. Have to lie on a wet deck without blankets. Some obligedto sit 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-fivenights without any, all the time since we were taken. * * *

"We are told that the Captain of this ship, whose name is Royer, gaveus these clothes and beds out of his own pocket. "

On the twelfth of April he was carried on shore to the hospital, wherehis daily allowance was a pound of beef, a pound of potatoes, andthree pints of beer. 

On the 7th of May he writes: "I now have a pound of bread, half apound of mutton and a quart of beer daily. The doctor is verykind. Three of our company have died. "

On the fifth of June he was committed to the Old Mill Prison atPlymouth. Many entries in his journal record the escapes of hiscompanions. "Captain Brown made his escape. " "William Woodward of thecharming 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 thatthe greens and beef were boiled in, without any thickening. " Still hedeclares that he has "a continued gnawing in his stomach. " The peopleof the neighborhood came to see them daily when they were exercisingin the prison yard, and sometimes gave them money and provisionsthrough the pickets of the high fence that surrounded the prisongrounds. Herbert had a mechanical turn, and made boxes which he soldto these visitors, procuring himself many comforts in this manner. 

About ten prisoners were brought in daily. They were constantlydigging their way out and were sometimes recaptured, but a greatnumber made their escape. On the twentieth of July he records thatthey begin to make a breach in the prison wall. "Their intention is todig eighteen feet underground to get into a field on the other side ofthe wall. 

"We put all the dirt in our chests. "

August third he says: "There are 173 prisoners in the wards. On thefifth thirty-two escaped, but three were brought back. These wereconfined in the Black Hole forty days on half allowance, and obligedto lie on the bare floor. 

"September 12th. We had a paper wherein was a melancholy account ofthe barbarous treatment of American prisoners, taken at Ticonderoga. 

"Sept. 16th. Today about twenty old countrymen petitioned the Boardfor permission to go on board His Majesty's ships. 

"Jan. 7th. 1778. 289 prisoners here in Plymouth. In Portsmouth thereare 140 prisoners. Today the prison was smoked with charcoal andbrim-stone. "

He records the gift of clothes, blankets, and all sorts ofprovisions. They were allowed to wash at the pump in relays ofsix. Tobacco and everything necessary was freely given them. 

"Jan. 27th. The officers in a separate prison are allowed to burncandles in the evening until gun-fire, which is eight o'clock. 

"28th. Today some new washing troughs were brought up for us to washour clothes in; and now we have plenty of clothes, soap, water, andtubs to wash in. In general we are tolerably clean. 

"Feb. 1st. Sunday. Last evening between 7 and 9 o'clock five of theofficers in a separate prison, who had agreed with the sentry to letthem go, made their escape and took two sentries with them. The fiveofficers were Captain Henry Johnston, Captain Eleazar Johnston, OffinBoardman, Samuel Treadwell, and one Mr. Deal. 

"Feb. 8th. Sunday. We have the paper wherein is an account of a letterfrom Dr. Franklin, Dean, and Lee, to Lord North, and to the ministry, putting them in mind of the abuse which the prisoners have had fromtime to time, and giving them to know that it is in the power of theAmericans to make ample retaliation. * * * We learn that their answerwas that in America there was an exchange. "

On the 9th of March he writes: "We are all strong, fat and hearty. 

"March 12th. Today our two fathers came to see us as they generally doonce or twice a week. They are Mr. Heath, and Mr. Sorry, the former aPresbyterian minister, in Dock, the latter a merchant in Plymouth. They are the two agents appointed by the Committee in London to supplyus with necessaries. A smile from them seems like a smile from afather. They tell us that everything goes well on our side. 

"April 7th. Today the latter (Mr. Sorry) came to see us, and wedesired him, for the future, to send us a four penny white loafinstead of a six-penny one to each mess, per day, for we have moreprovision than many of us want to eat, and any person can easilyconjecture that prisoners, in our situation, who have suffered so muchfor the want of provisions would abhor such an act as to waste what wehave suffered so much for the want of. "

Herbert was liberated at the end of two years. Enough has been quotedto prove the humanity with which the prisoners at Plymouth weretreated. He gives a valuable list of crews in Old Mill Prison, Plymouth, during the time of his incarceration, with the names ofcaptains, number that escaped, those who died, and those who joinedthe English. 

 JoinedNAMES OF SHIPS AND CAPTAINS No. Of British Men Escaped Died ShipsBrig Dolton, Capt. Johnston 120 21 8 7Sloop Charming Sally, Capt. Brown. 52 6 7 16Brig Fancy, Capt. Lee 56 11 2 0Brig Lexington, Capt. Johnston 51 6 1 26Schooner Warren, Capt. Ravel 40 2 0 6

PARTS OF CREWS TAKEN INTO PLYMOUTH

Brig Freedom, Capt. Euston 11 3 1 0Ship Reprisal, Capt. Weeks 10 2 0 3Sloop Hawk 6 0 0 0Schooner Hawk, Capt. Hibbert 6 0 0 0Schooner Black Snake, Capt. Lucran 3 1 0 0Ship Oliver Cromwell 7 1 0 4Letter of Marque Janey, Capt. Rollo 2 1 0 0Brig Cabot 3 0 0 0True Blue, Capt. Furlong 1 0 0 0Ranger 1 0 0 0Sloop Lucretia 2 0 0 0Musquito Tender 1 0 0 1Schooner, Capt. Burnell 2 1 0 1Sturdy Beggar 3 0 0 0Revenge, Capt Cunningham 3 0 0 0

 Total 380 55 19 62 Remained in Prison until exchanged, 244

Before we leave the subject of Plymouth we must record the fact thatsome time in the year 1779 a prize was brought into the harborcaptured from the French with 80 French prisoners. The English crewput in charge of the prize procured liquor, and, in company of some ofthe loose women of the town, went below to make a night of it. In thedead of night the Frenchmen seized the ship, secured the hatches, cutthe cable, took her out of port, homeward bound, and escaped. 

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 Americanprivateer called the Yankee, commanded by Captain Johnson, and latelybrought into this port by Captain Ross, who commanded one of the WestIndia sugar ships, taken by the privateer in July last: and as anEnglishman I earnestly wish your Lordship, who is so happily placed atthe head of this great city (justly famed for its great humanity evento its enemies), would be pleased to go likewise, or send properpersons, to see the truly shocking and I may say barbarous andmiserable condition of the unfortunate American prisoners, who, however criminal they may be thought to have been, are deserving ofpity, and entitled to common 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 asloop, about seventy tons burden, without a breath of air, in thissultry 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 orthree being permitted to come on deck at a time; and then they areexposed in the open sun, which is reflected from the decks like aburning glass. 

"I do not at all exaggerate, my lord, I speak the truth, and theresemblance that this barbarity bears to the memorable Black Hole atCalcutta, as a gentleman present on Saturday observed, strikes everyeye at the sight. All England ought to know that the same game is nowacting upon the Thames on board this privateer, that all the worldcried out against, and shuddered at the mention of in India, someyears ago, as practised on Captain Hollowell and other of the King'sgood subjects. The putrid steams issuing from the hold are so hot andoffensive that one cannot, without the utmost danger, breathe over it, and I should not be at all surprised if it should cause a plague tospread. 

"The miserable wretches below look like persons in a hot bath, panting, sweating, and fainting, for want of air; and the surgeondeclares that they must all soon perish in this situation, especiallyas they are almost all in a sickly state from bilious disorders. 

"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 theirown account. They are both sensible and well behaved young men, andcan give a very good account of themselves, having no signs of fear, and being supported by a consciousness of the justice of their cause. 

"They are men of character, of good families in New England, andhighly respected in their different occupations; but being stripped oftheir all by the burning of towns, and other destructive measures ofthe present unnatural war, were forced to take the disagreeable methodof making reprisals to maintain themselves and their children ratherthan starve. * * * English prisoners taken by the Americans have beentreated with the most remarkable tenderness and generosity, as numberswho are safely returned to England most freely confess, to the honorof our brethern in the colonies, and it is a fact, which can be wellattested in London, that this very surgeon on board the privateer, after the battle of Lexington, April 19th, 1775, for many daysvoluntarily and generously without fee or reward employed himself indressing the King's wounded soldiers, who but an hour before wouldhave shot him if they could have come at him, and in making acollection for their refreshment, of wine, linen, money, etc. , in thetown where he lived. * * * The capture of the privateer was, solelyowing to the ill-judged lenity and brotherly kindness of CaptainJohnson, who not considering his English prisoners in the same lightthat he would French or Spanish, put them under no sort ofconfinement, but permitted them to walk the decks as freely as his ownpeople at all times. Taking advantage of this indulgence the prisonersone day watched their opportunity when most of the privateer's peoplewere below, and asleep, shut down the hatches, and making all fast, had immediate possession of the vessel without using any force. "

What the effect of this generous letter was we have no means ofdiscovering. It displays the sentiments of a large party in England, who bitterly condemned 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 inEngland, which forms a most grateful contrast to that which theyreceived in New York, Philadelphia, and other parts of America, wewill give an abstract of the adventures of another young man who wasconfined in the Old Mill Prison at Plymouth, England. This young manwas named Andrew Sherburne. He was born at Rye, New Hampshire, on the3oth of September, 1765. 

He first served on the continental ship of war, Ranger, which shippeda crew at Portsmouth, N. H. His father consented that he should gowith her, and his two half uncles, Timothy and James Weymouth, were onboard. There were about forty boys in the crew. Andrew was then inhis fourteenth year, and was employed as waiter to the boatswain. Thevessel sailed in the month of June, 1779. She took ten prizes andsailed for home, where she arrived in August, 1779. Next year shesailed again on another cruise, but was taken prisoner by the Britishat Charleston, S. C. , on the 12th of May, 1780. 

"Our officers, " says Sherburne, "were paroled and allowed to retaintheir waiters. We were for several days entirely destitute ofprovisions except muscles, which we gathered from the muscle beds. Iwas at this time waiter to Captain Pierce Powers, master's mate of theRanger. He treated me with the kindness of a father. "

"At this time, " he continues, "Captain Simpson and the other officersprocured a small vessel which was employed as a cartel, to transportthe officers, their boys and baggage, agreeably to the terms ofcapitulation, to Newport, R. I. It being difficult to obtain suitablecasks for water they procured such as they could. These proved to befoul, and after we got to sea our water became filthy and extremelynoxious. Very few if any on board escaped an attack of the diarrhoea. "

After his return he next shipped under Captain Wilds on the Greyhound, from Portsmouth, N. H. , and at last, after many adventures, was takenprisoner by Newfoundlanders, off Newfoundland. He was then put onboard the Fairy, a British sloop of war, commanded by Captain Yeo, "acomplete tyrant" "Wilds and myself, " he continues, "were called to thequarter deck, and after having been asked a few questions by CaptainYeo, he turned to his officers and said: 'They are a couple of finelads for his Majesty's service. Mr. Gray, see that they do theirduty. '"

When the sloop arrived in England the boys complained that they wereprisoners of war, in consequence of which they were sent to the OldMill Prison at Plymouth, accused of "rebellion, piracy, and hightreason. "

Here they found acquaintances from Portsmouth, N. H. The otherprisoners were very kind to young Sherburne, gave him clothing andsent him to a school which was kept in the prison. Ship building andother arts were carried on in this place, and he learned navigation, which was of great service to him in after life. 

The fare, he declared, was tolerably good, but there was not enough ofit. He amused himself by making little toy ships. He became ill anddelirious, but recovered in time to be sent to America when a generalexchange of prisoners was effected in 1781. The rest of hisadventures has nothing to do with prisons, in England, and shall notnow be detailed. 

Although the accounts of the English prisons left by Herbert, Sherburne and others are so favorable, yet it seems that, after theyear 1780, there was some cause of complaint even there. We will quotea passage from the British Annual Register to prove thisstatement. This passage we take from the Register for 1781, page 152. 

"A petition was presented to the House the same day (June 20th) byMr. Fox, from the American prisoners in Mill Prison, Plymouth, settingforth that they were treated with less humanity than the French andSpanish, though by reason that they had no Agent established in thiscountry for their protection, they were entitled to expect a largershare of indulgence than others. They had not a sufficient allowanceof _bread_, and were very scantily furnished with clothing. 

"A similar petition was presented to the House of Peers by the Duke ofRichmond, and these petitions occasioned considerable debate in bothHouses. Several motions were grounded on these petitions, but tothose proposed by the Lords and gentlemen in the opposition, weredetermined in the negative, and others to _exculpate_ theGovernment in this business were resolved in the affirmative. Itappeared upon inquiry, that the American prisoners were allowed a halfpound of bread less per day than the French and Spanish prisoners. Butthe petitions of the Americans produced no alterations in their favor, and the conduct of the Administration was equally unpolitic andilliberal. The additional allowance, which was solicited on behalf ofthe prisoners, could be no object, either to Government or to theNation, and it was certainly unwise, by treating American prisonersworse than those of France or Spain, to increase the fatal animositywhich had unhappily taken place between the mother country and theColonies, and this, too, at a period when the subjugation of thelatter had become hopeless. "

CHAPTER XIX

MORE ABOUT THE ENGLISH PRISONS--MEMOIR OF ELI BICKFORD--CAPTAINFANNING

Eli Bickford, who was born on the 29th of September, 1754, in the townof Durham, N. H. , and enlisted on a privateer, was taken prisoner bythe British, confined at first on the Old Jersey, and afterwards sentto England with many others, in a vessel commanded by CaptainSmallcorn, whom he called "a sample of the smallest corn he had evermet. " While on board this vessel he was taken down with thesmallpox. No beds or bedding were provided for the prisoners and aplank on deck was his only pillow. He and his fellow sufferers weretreated with great severity, and insulted at every turn. When theyreached England they were sent to prison, where he remained in closeconfinement for four years and six months. 

Finding a piece of a door hinge, he and some of the others endeavoredto make their escape by digging a passage under the walls. A report oftheir proceedings reached the jailer, but, secure in the strength ofthe walls he did not believe it. This jailor would frequently jestwith Bickford on the subject, asking him when he intended to make hisescape. His answers were so truthful and accurate that they served toblind the jailor still further. One morning as this official enteredthe prison he said: "Well, Bickford, how soon will you be ready to goout?"

"Tomorrow night!" answered Bickford. 

"O, that's only some of your nonsense, " he replied. 

However, it was true. 

After digging a passage for some days underground, the prisoners foundthemselves under an adjoining house. They proceeded to take up thebrick floor, unlocked the door and passed out, without disturbing theinmates, who were all asleep. Unable to escape they concealedthemselves for awhile, and then tamely gave themselves up. Such avigilant watch was kept upon the house after they were missed from theprison, that they had no other choice. So they made a contract with aman who was to return them to the prison, and then give them half ofthe reward of forty shillings which was offered for their re-capture. So successful was this expedient that it was often put into operationwhen they needed money. 

As a punishment for endeavoring to escape they were confined in theBlack Hole for a week on bread and water. 

Bickford describes the prison regulations for preserving order whichwere made and carried out by the prisoners themselves. If a difficultyarose between two of them it was settled in the following manner. Theprisoners formed a circle in the centre of which the disputants tooktheir stand, and exchanged a few rounds of well-directed blows, afterwhich they shook hands, and were better friends than before. 

Bickford was not released until peace was declared. He then returnedto his family, who had long thought him dead. It was on Sunday morningthat he reached his native town. As he passed the meeting house he wasrecognized, and the whole congregation ran out to see and greet him. 

He had but seven dollars as his whole capital when he married. Hemoved to Vermont, where he farmed a small place, and succeeded inmaking a comfortable livelihood. He attained the great age of 101, andwas one of the last surviving prisoners of the Revolution. 

THE ADVENTURES OF A NAVAL OFFICER

In the year 1806 a little book with this title was published in NewYork, by Captain Nathaniel Fanning. It was dedicated to John Jackson, Esquire, the man who did so much to interest the public in thepreservation and interment of the remains of the martyrs of theprisonships in the Wallabout. 

Fanning was born in Connecticut, in the year 1755. On the 26th ofMay, 1778, he went on board the brig Angelica, commanded by CaptainWilliam Dennis, which was about to sail on a six months cruise. Therewere 98 men and boys in the crew, and Fanning was prize-master onboard the privateer. She was captured by the Andromeda, a frigate of28 guns, five days from Philadelphia, with General Howe on board onhis way back to England. 

All the prisoners were paraded on deck and asked if they were willingto engage in his British Majesty's service. Nearly all answered in thenegative. They were then told that they were "a set of rebels, " andthat it was more than probable that they would all be hung atPortsmouth. 

Their baggage was then taken away, and they were confined in the holdof the ship. Their clothes were stolen by the sailors, and a frock andcheap trousers dealt out to each man in their place. 

The heat was intolerable in the hold, although they went naked. Inthis condition they plotted to seize the vessel, and procured someweapons through the agency of their surgeon. Spencer, the captain'sclerk, betrayed them to the captain of the Andromeda, and, after that, the hatches were barred down, and they began to think that they wouldall die of suffocation. The sentence pronounced upon them was thatthey should be allowed only half a pint of water a day for each man, and barely food enough to sustain life. 

Their condition would have been terrible, but, fortunately for them, they were lodged upon the water casks, over which was constructed atemporary deck. By boring holes in the planks they managed, by meansof a proof glass, to obtain all the water they needed. 

Between them and the general's store room was nothing but a partitionof plank. They went to work to make an aperture through which a mancould pass into this store room. A young man named Howard from RhodeIsland was their instigator in all these operations. They discoveredthat one of the shifting boards abaft the pump room was loose, andthat they could ship and unship it as they pleased. When it wasunshipped there was just room for a man to crawl into the storeroom. "Howard first went in, " writes Captain Fanning, "and presentlydesired me to hand him a mug or can with a proof glass. A few minutesafter he handed me back the same full, saying 'My friends, as goodMadeira wine as ever was drank at the table of an Emperor!'

"I took it from his hands and drank about half a pint. 

"Thus we lived like hearty fellows, taking care every night to secureprovisions, dried fruit, and wines for the day following * * * and allwithout our enemies' knowledge. "

Scurvy broke out 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. Theprisoners were sent to Hazel hospital, to be examined by theCommissioners of the Admiralty, and then marched to Forton prison, where they were committed under the charges of piracy and hightreason. This prison was about two miles from Portsmouth harbor, andconsisted of two commodious buildings, with a yard between them largeenough to parade a guard of 100 men, which was the number required tomaintain law and order at the station. 

They also had a spacious lot of about three quarters of an acre inextent, adjoining the houses, in which they took their dailyexercise. In the middle of this lot was a shed with seats. It was openon all sides. The lot was surrounded by a wall of iron pickets, eightfeet in height. The agent for American prisoners was nicknamed by them"the old crab. " He was very old and ugly. 

Only three-fourths of the usual allowance to prisoners of war wasdealt out to them, and they seem to have fared much worse than theinmates of the Old Mill Prison at Plymouth. 

Captain Fanning declares that they were half starved, and wouldsometimes beg bones from the people who came to look at them. Whenthey obtained bones they would dig out the marrow, and devour it. Theguard was cruel and spiteful. One day they heated some pokers red hotand began to burn the prisoners' shirts that were hung up todry. These men begged the guard, in a very civil manner, not to burnall their shirts, as they had only one apiece. This remonstranceproducing no effect they then ran to the pickets and snatched awaytheir shirts. At this the officer on command ordered a sentinel tofire on them. This he did, killing one prisoner, and woundingseveral. There were three hundred American prisoners in the yard atthis time. 

These prisons appear to have been very imperfectly guarded, and theregular occupation of the captives, whenever their guards were asleepor absent, was to make excavations for the purpose of escaping. Agreat many regained their freedom in this manner, though some wereoccasionally brought back and punished by being shut up for forty daysin the Black Hole on bread and water. Some, less fortunate, remainedthree or four years in the prison. 

There was always digging going on in some part of the prison and assoon as one hole was discovered and plastered up, another would bebegun. For a long time they concealed the dirt that they took out ofthese excavations in an old stack of disused chimneys. The hours forperforming the work were between eleven and three o'clock atnight. Early in the morning they ceased from their labors, concealingthe hole they had made by pasting white paper over it. 

There was a school kept constantly in the prison, where many of themhad the first opportunity that had ever been granted them of receivingan education. Many learned to read and write, and became proficientin French. 

At one time there were 367 officers confined in this place. In thecourse of twelve months 138 of them escaped and got safely toFrance. While some of the men were digging at night, others would bedancing to drown the noise. They had several violins, and seem to havebeen a reckless and jovial set. 

The officers bunked on the second floor over the guard room of theEnglish officers. At times they would make so much noise that theguard would rush up the stairs, only to find all lights out and everyman _asleep and snoring_ in his hammock. They would relieve theirfeelings by a volley of abusive language and go down stairs again, when instantly the whole company would be on their feet, the violinswould strike up, and the fun be more fast and furious than ever. Theserushes of the guard would sometimes be repeated several times a night, when they would always find the prisoners in their hammocks. Eachhammock had what was called a "king's rug, " a straw bed, and pillow. 

At one time several men were suddenly taken sick, with strong symptomsof poison. They were removed to the hospital, and for a time, therewas great alarm. The prisoners feared that "the same game was playinghere as had been done on the Old Jersey, where we had heard thatthousands of our countrymen had died. " The poison employed in thisinstance was glass pounded fine and cooked with their bread. 

An English clergyman named Wren sympathized strongly with theprisoners and assisted them to escape. He lived at Gosport, and ifany of the captives were so fortunate as to dig themselves out andsucceed in reaching his house, they were safe. This good man beggedmoney and food for "his children, " as he called them. 

On the second of June, 1779, 120 of them were exchanged. There werethen 600 confined in that prison. On the 6th of June they sailed forNantes in France. The French treated them with great kindness, made upa purse for them, and gave them decent clothing. 

Fanning next went to L'Orient, and there met John Paul Jones, whoinvited him to go on board the Bon Homme Richard as a midshipman. Theysailed on the 14th of August on the memorable expedition to theBritish Channel. 

After being with Jones for some time Fanning, on the 23rd of March, 1781, sailed for home in a privateer from Morlaix, France. Thisprivateer was captured by the English frigate, Aurora. 

"Captain Anthon and myself and crew, " writes Mr. Fanning, "were allordered to a prison at about two miles from Falmouth. The verydirtiest and most loathsome building I ever saw. Swarms of lice, remarkably fat and full grown; bed bugs, and fleas. I believe theformer were of Dutch extraction, as there were confined here a numberof Dutch prisoners of war, and such a company of dirty fellows I neversaw before or since. "

Yet these same poor fellows ceded to Captain Anthon and Mr. Fanning acorner of the prison for their private use. This they managed to getthoroughly cleansed, screened themselves off with some sheets, provided themselves with large swinging cots, and were tolerablycomfortable. They were paroled and allowed full liberty within bounds, which were a mile and a half from the prison. In about six weeksFanning was again exchanged, and went to Cherbourg in France, where hemet Captain Manly, who had just escaped from the Mill prison afterthree years confinment. 

CHAPTER XX

SOME SOUTHERN NAVAL PRISONERS

Very little is known of the State navies of the south during theRevolution. Each State had her own small navy, and many were theinteresting adventures, some successful, and others unfortunate, thatthe hardy sailors encountered. The story of each one of these littlevessels would be as interesting as a romance, but we are here onlyconcerned with the meagre accounts that have reached us of thesufferings of some of the crews of the privateers who were so unluckyas to fall into the hands of the enemy. 

In the infant navy of Virginia were many small, extremely fleetvessels. 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 havebeen captured from the British), Pocohontas, Dragon, Washington, Tempest, Defiance, Oliver Cromwell, Renown, Apollo, and the MarquisLafayette. 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 theVirginia, Rattlesnake, Scorpion, Congress, Liberty, Eminence, Game-Cock, and the American Congress. Some of the galleys were theAccomac, Diligence, Hero, Gloucester, Safeguard, Manly, Henry, Norfolk, Revenge, Caswell, Protector, Washington, Page, Lewis, Dragon, and Dasher. There were two armed pilot boats named Molly andFly. Barges were the York and Richmond. The Oxford, Cormorant, andLoyalist were prizes. The two latter were taken from the English bythe 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 fouldungeons, where famine and disease made short work of them. Littleremains to us now except the names of these vessels. 

The Virginia was built at Gosport. The Dragon and some others werebuilt at Fredericksburg. Many were built at Norfolk. 

The Hermit was early captured by the British. The gallant littleMosquito was taken by the Ariadne. Her crew was confined in aloathsome jail at Barbadoes. But her officers were sent to England, and confined in Fortune jail at Gosport. They succeeded in escapingand made their way to France. The names of these officers were CaptainJohn Harris; Lieutenant Chamberlayne; Midshipman Alexander Moore;Alexander Dock, Captain of Marines; and George Catlett, Lieutenant ofMarines. 

The Raleigh was captured by the British frigate Thames. Her crew wasso shamefully maltreated that upon representations made to the Councilof State upon their condition, it was recommended that by way ofretaliation the crew of the Solebay, a sloop of war which had falleninto the hands of the Americans, should be visited with the likesevere treatment. To what extent this was carried out we cannotdiscover. 

The Scorpion was taken by the British in the year 1781, a fatal yearfor the navy of Virginia. 

In the year 1857 an unsigned article on the subject of the VirginiaNavy was published in the _Southern Literary Messenger_, whichgoes on to say: "But of all the sufferings in these troublous timesnone endured such horrors as did those Americans who were sounfortunate as to become prisoners of war to the British. They weretreated more as felons than as honorable enemies. It can scarcely becredited that an enlightened people would thus have been so lost tothe common instincts of humanity, as were they in their conducttowards men of the same blood, and speaking the same language withthemselves. True it is they sometimes excused the cruelty of theirprocedures by avowing in many instances their prisoners were desertersfrom the English flag, and were to be dealt with accordingly. Be thisas it may, no instance is on record where a Tory whom the Americanshad good cause to regard as a traitor, was visited with the severitieswhich characterized the treatment of the ordinary military captives, on the part of the English authorities. * * * The patriotic seamen ofthe Virginia navy were no exceptions to the rule when they fell intothe hands of the more powerful lords of the ocean. They were carriedin numbers to Bermuda, and to the West Indies, and cast into loathsomeand pestilential prisons, from which a few sometimes managed toescape, at the peril of their lives. Respect of position and rankfound no favor in the eyes of their ungenerous captors, and no appealcould reach their hearts except through the promises of bribes. Manylanguished and died in those places, away from country and friends, whose fate was not known until long after they had passed away. But itwas not altogether abroad that they were so cruelly maltreated. Therecord of their sufferings in the prisons of the enemy, in our owncountry, is left to testify against these relentless persecutors. 

"In New York and Halifax many of the Virginian officers and seamenwere relieved of their pains, alone by the hand of death; and in theirown State, at Portsmouth, the like fate overtook many more, who hadendured horrors rivalled only by the terrors of the Black Hole ofCalcutta. * * * The reader will agree that we do not exaggerate whenhe shall have seen the case as given under oath by one who was inevery respect a competent witness. 

"It will be remembered that, in another part of this narrative, mention was made of the loss in Lynhaven Bay of the galley Dasher, andthe capture of the officers and the crew. Captain Willis Wilson washer unfortunate commander on that occasion. He and his men wereconfined in the Provost Jail at Portsmouth, Virginia, and after hisrelease he made public the 'secrets' of that 'Prison House, ' by thefollowing deposition, which is copied from the original document. 

"'The deposition of Willis Wilson, being first sworn deposes andsayeth: That about the 23rd July last the deponent was taken aprisoner of war; was conducted to Portsmouth (Virginia) after havingbeen plundered of all his clothing, etc. , and there lodged with about190 other prisoners, in the Provost. This deponent during twenty odddays was a spectator to the most savage cruelty with which the unhappyprisoners were treated by the English. The deponent has every reasonto believe there was a premeditated scheme to infect all the prisonerswho had not been infected with the smallpox. There were upwards of 100prisoners who never had the disorder, notwithstanding which negroes, with the infection upon them, were lodged under the same roof of theProvost. Others were sent in to attend upon the prisoners, with thescabs of that disorder upon them. 

"'Some of the prisoners soon caught the disorder, others were downwith the flux, and some from fevers. From such a complication ofdisorders 'twas thought expedient to petition General O'Hara who wasthen commanding officer, for a removal of the sick, or those who werenot, as yet, infected with the smallpox. Accordingly a petition wassent by Dr. Smith who shortly returned with a verbal answer, as hesaid, from the General. He said the General desired him to inform theprisoners that the _law of nations was annihilated_, that he hadnothing then to bind them but bolts and bars, and they were tocontinue where they were, but that they were free agents to inoculateif they chose. 

"'About thirty agreed with the same Smith to inoculate them at aguinea a man; he performed the operation, received his guinea frommany, and then left them to shift for themselves, though he had agreedto attend them through the disorder. Many of them, as well as thosewho took it in the natural way, died. Colonel Gee, with manyrespectable characters, fell victims to the unrelenting cruelty ofO'Hara, who would admit of no discrimination between the officers, privates, negroes, and felons; but promiscuously confined the whole inone house. * * * They also suffered often from want of water, andsuch as they got was very muddy and unfit to drink. 

'"Willis Wilson. 

"'This day came before me Captain Willis Wilson and made oath that theabove is true. 

'"Samuel Thorogood. '"

There is much of great interest in this article on the Virginia Navywhich is not to our present purpose. The writer goes on to tell how, on one occasion, the ship Favorite, bearing a flag of truce, wasreturning to Virginia, with a number of Americans who had just beenliberated or exchanged in Bermuda, when she was overhauled by aBritish man-of-war, and both her crew and passengers robbed of allthey had. The British ships which committed this dastardly deed werethe Tiger, of 14 guns, and the schooner Surprise, of 10 guns. 

Captain James Barron, afterwards Commodore Barren, was the masterspirit of the service in Virginia. One of the Virginian vessels, veryappropriately named the Victory, was commanded by him, and was neverdefeated. 

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 smallBritish force remaining in America, and the privateers sent out fromNew York. Their navy, which consisted, at the time of your departure, of about thirty vessels, is now reduced to eight, and the number ofprivateers fitted out in New England amounting to an hundred andupwards is now less than forty. "

CHAPTER XXI

EXTRACTS FROM NEWSPAPERS--SOME OF THE PRISON SHIPS--CASE OF CAPTAINBIRDSALL

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 ofthe day. In this instance the truth can best be established by themouths of many witnesses, and we do not hesitate to give the Englishside whenever we have been able to discover anything bearing on thesubject in the so-called loyal periodicals of the time. 

From Freeman's _Journal, _ date of Jan. 19th, 1777, we take thefollowing:

"General Howe has discharged all the privates who were prisoners inNew York. Half he sent to the world of spirits for want of food: theothers he hath sent to warn their countrymen of the danger of fallinginto his hands, and to convince them by ocular demonstration, that itis infinitely better to be slain in battle, than to be taken prisonerby British brutes, whose tender mercies are cruelties. "

In the _Connecticut Journal_ of Jan. 30th, 1777, is thefollowing:

"This account of the sufferings of these unfortunate men was obtainedfrom the prisoners themselves. As soon as they were taken they wererobbed of all their baggage; of whatever money they had, though itwere of paper; of their silver shoe buckles and knee buckles, etc. ;and many were stripped almost of their clothes. Especially those whohad good clothes were stripped at once, being told that such were 'toogood for rebels. '

"Thus deprived of their clothes and baggage, they were unable to shifteven their linen, and were obliged to wear the same shirts for eventhree or four months together, whereby they became extremely nasty;and this of itself was sufficient to bring on them many mortaldiseases. 

"After they were taken they were in the first place put on board theships, and thrust down into the hold, where not a breath of fresh aircould be obtained, and they were nearly suffocated for want of air. 

"Some who were taken at Fort Washington were first in this mannerthrust down into the holds of vessels in such numbers that even in thecold season of November they could scarcely bear any clothes on them, being kept in a constant sweat. Yet these same persons, after lying inthis situation awhile, till the pores of their bodies were asperfectly open as possible, were of a sudden taken out and put intosome of the churches of New York, without covering, or a spark offire, where they suffered as much by the cold as they did by thesweating stagnation of the air in the other situation; and theconsequence was that they took such colds as brought on the most fataldiseases, and swept them off almost beyond conception. 

"Besides these things they suffered severely for want ofprovisions. The commissioners pretended to allow a half a pound ofbread, and four ounces of pork per day; but of this pittance they weremuch cut short. What was given them for three days was not enough forone day and, in some instances, they went for three days without asingle mouthful of food of any kind. They were pinched to such anextent that some on board the ships would pick up and eat the saltthat happened to be scattered there; others gathered up the bran whichthe light horse wasted, and eat it, mixed with dirt and filth as itwas. 

"Nor was this all, both the bread and pork which they did allow themwas extremely bad. For the bread, some of it was made out of the branwhich they brought over to feed their light horse, and the rest of itwas so muddy, and the pork so damnified, being so soaked in bilgewater during the transportation from Europe, that they were not fit tobe eaten by human creatures, and when they were eaten were veryunwholesome. Such bread and pork as they would not pretend to give totheir own countrymen they gave to our poor sick dying prisoners. 

"Nor were they in this doleful condition allowed a sufficiency ofwater. One would have thought that water was so cheap and plentiful anelement, that they would not have grudged them that. But there are, itseems, no bounds to their cruelty. The water allowed them was sobrackish, and withal nasty, that they could not drink it until reducedto extremity. Nor did they let them have a sufficiency of even suchwater as this. 

"When winter came on, our people suffered extremely for want of fireand clothes to keep them warm. They were confined in churches wherethere were no fireplaces that they could make fires, even if they hadwood. But wood was only allowed them for cooking their pittance ofvictuals; and for that purpose very sparingly. They had none to keepthem warm even in the extremest of weather, although they were almostnaked, and the few clothes they had were their summer clothes. Nor hadthey a single blanket, nor any bedding, not even straw allowed themuntil a little before Christmas. 

"At the time those were taken on Long Island a considerable part ofthem were sick of the dysentery; and with this distemper on them werefirst crowded on board the ships, afterwards in the churches in NewYork, three, four or five hundred together, without any blankets, oranything for even the sick to lie upon, but the bare floors orpavements. 

"In this situation that contagious distemper soon communicated fromthe sick to the well, who would probably have remained so, had theynot in this manner been thrust in together without regard to sick orwell, or to the sultry, unwholesome season, it being then the heat ofsummer. Of this distemper numbers died daily, and many others by theirconfinement and the sultry season contracted fevers and died ofthem. During their sickness, with these and other diseases, they hadno medicines, nothing soothing or comfortable for sick people, andwere not so much as visited by the physician for months together. 

"Nor ought we to omit the insults which the humane Britons offered toour people, nor the artifices which they used to enlist them in theirservice to fight against their country. It seems that one end of theirstarving our people was to bring them, by dint of necessity, to turnrebels to their own country, their own consciences, and their God. Forwhile thus famishing they would come and say to them: 'This is thejust punishment of your rebellion. Nay, you are treated too well forrebels; you have not received half you deserve or half you shallreceive. But if you will enlist into his Majesty's service, you shallhave victuals and clothes enough. '

"As to insults, the British officers, besides continually cursing andswearing at them as rebels, often threatened to hang them all; and, ona particular time, ordered a number, each man to choose his halter outof a parcel offered, wherewith to be hanged; and even went so far asto cause a gallows to be erected before the prison, as if they were tobe immediately executed. 

"They further threatened to send them all into the East Indies, andsell them there for slaves. 

"In these and numberless other ways did the British officers seem torack their inventions to insult, terrify, and vex the poorprisoners. The meanest, upstart officers among them would insult andabuse our colonels and chief officers. 

"In this situation, without clothes, without victuals or drink, oreven water, or with those which were base and unwholesome; withoutfire, a number of them sick, first with a contagious and nauseousdistemper; these, with others, crowded by hundreds into closeconfinement, at the most unwholesome season of the year, and continuedthere for four months without blankets, bedding, or straw; withoutlinen to shift or clothes to cover their bodies;--No wonder they allbecame sickly, and having at the same time no medicine, no help ofphysicians, nothing to refresh or support nature, died by scores in anight, and those who were so far gone as to be unable to helpthemselves lay uncared for, till death, more kind than Britons, put anend to their misery. 

"By these means, and in this way, 1, 500 brave Americans, who had noblygone forth in defence of their injured, oppressed country, but whomthe chance at war had cast into the hands of our enemies, died in NewYork, many of whom were very amiable, promising youths, of goodfamilies, the very flower of our land; and of those who lived to comeout of prison, the greater part, as far as I can learn, are dead ordying. Their constitutions are broken; the stamina of nature worn out;they cannot recover--they die. Even the few that might have survivedare dying of the smallpox. For it seems that our enemies determiningthat even these, whom a good constitution and a kind Providence hadcarried through unexampled sufferings, should not at last escapedeath, just before their release from imprisonment infected them withthat fatal distemper. 

"To these circumstances we subjoin the manner in which they buriedthose of our people who died. They dragged them out of the prison byone leg or one arm, piled them up without doors, there let them lieuntil a sufficient number were dead to make a cart load, then loadedthem up in a cart, drove the cart thus loaded out to the ditches madeby our people when fortifying New York; there they would tip the cart, tumble the corpses together into the ditch, and afterwards slightlycover them with earth. * * * While our poor prisoners have been thustreated by our foes, the prisoners we have taken have enjoyed theliberty of walking and riding about within large limits at theirpleasure; have been freely supplied with every necessary, and haveeven lived on the fat of the land. None have been so well fed, soplump, and so merry as they; and this generous treatment, it is said, they could not but remember. For when they were returned in theexchange of prisoners, and saw the miserable, famished, dying state ofour prisoners, conscious of the treatment they had received, theycould not refrain from tears. " _Connecticut Journal, _ Jan. 30th, 1777. 

In April of the year 1777 a committee that was appointed by Congressto inquire into the doings of the British on their different marchesthrough New York and New Jersey reported that "The prisoners, insteadof that humane treatment which those taken by the United Statesexperienced, were in general treated with the greatest barbarity. Manyof them were kept near four days without food altogether. * * *Freemen and men of substance suffered all that generous minds couldsuffer from the contempt and mockery of British and foreignmercenaries. Multitudes died in prison. When they were sent outseveral died in being carried from the boats on shore, or upon theroad attempting to go home. The committee, in the course of theirinquiry, learned that sometimes the common soldiers expressed sympathywith the prisoners, and the foreigners (did this) more than theEnglish. But this was seldom or never the case with the officers, norhave they been able to hear of any charitable assistance given them bythe inhabitants who remained in, or resorted to the city of New York, which neglect, if universal, they believe was never known to happen inany similar case in a Christian country. "

We have already shown that some of the citizens of New York, even anumber of the profligate women of the town, did their best to relievethe wants of the perishing prisoners. But the guards were very strict, and what they could do was inadequate to remove the distresses underwhich these victims of cruelty and oppression died. As we areattempting to make this work a compendium of all the facts that can begathered upon the subject, we must beg the reader's indulgence if wecontinue to give corroborating testimony of the same character, fromthe periodicals of the day. We will next quote from the _NewHampshire Gazette, _ date of February 4th, 1779. 

"It is painful to repeat the indubitable accounts we are constantlyreceiving, of the cruel and inhuman treatment of the subjects of theseStates from the British in New York and other places. They who hearour countrymen who have been so unfortunate as to fall into the handsof those unrelenting tyrants, relate the sad story of their captivity, the insults they have received, and the slow, cool, systematic mannerin which great numbers of those who could not be prevailed on to entertheir service have been murdered, must have hearts of stone not tomelt with pity for the sufferers, and burn with indignation at theirtormentors. As we have daily fresh instances to prove the truth ofsuch a representation, public justice requires that repeated publicmention should be made of them. A cartel vessel lately arrived at NewLondon in Connecticut, carrying about 130 American prisoners from theprison ships in New York. Such was the condition in which these poorcreatures were put on board the cartel, that in the short run, 16 diedon board; upwards of sixty when they were landed, were scarcely ableto move, and the remainder greatly emaciated and enfeebled; and manywho continue alive are never likely to recover their formerhealth. The greatest inhumanity was experienced by the prisoners in aship of which one Nelson, a Scotchman, had the superintendence. Upwards of 300 American prisoners were confined at a time, on boardthis ship. There was but one small fire-place allowed to cook the foodof such a number. The allowance of the prisoners was, moreover, frequently delayed, insomuch that, in the short days of November andDecember, it was not begun to be delivered out until 11 o'clock in theforenoon so that the whole could not be served until three. At sunsetthe fire was ordered to be quenched; no plea from the many sick, fromtheir absolute necessity, the shortness of the time or the smallnessof the hearth, was allowed to avail. The known consequence was thatsome had not their food dressed at all; many were obliged to eat ithalf raw. On board the ship no flour, oatmeal, and things of likenature, suited to the condition of infirm people, were allowed to themany sick, nothing but ship-bread, beef, and pork. This is the accountgiven by a number of prisoners, who are credible persons, and this isbut a part of their sufferings; so that the excuse made by the enemythat the prisoners were emaciated and died by contagious sickness, which no one could prevent, is futile. It requires no great sagacityto 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 tosuppose that many of our enemies saw with pleasure this contagion, which might have been so easily prevented, among the prisoners whocould not be persuaded to enter the service. "

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 withflour for the army, which had been captured in the Sound by theBritish. Captain Birdsall offered, if the undertaking was approved ofby his superior officer, to superintend the enterprise himself. Theproposal was accepted, when Birdsall, with a few picked men, made theexperiment, and succeeded in sending the vessel to her originaldestination. But he and one of his men fell into the hands of theenemy. He was sent to the Provost Jail under surveillance of "thatmonster in human shape, the infamous Cunningham. " He requested the useof pen, ink, and paper, for the purpose of acquainting his family ofhis situation. On being refused he made a reply which drew from thekeeper some opprobious epithets, accompanied by a thrust from hissword, which penetrated the shoulder of his victim, and caused theblood to flow freely. Being locked up alone in a filthy apartment, and denied any assistance whatever, he was obliged to dress the woundwith his own linen, and then to endure, in solitude and misery, everyindignity which the malice of the Provost Master urged him to inflictupon a _damned rebel_, who, he declared, ought to be hung. "After several months of confinement and starvation he was exchanged. "

Two Whig gentlemen of Long Island were imprisoned in the ProvostPrison some time in the year 1777. Two English Quakers named JacobWatson and Robert Murray at last procured their release. Their nameswere George Townsend and John Kirk. Kirk caught the smallpox while inprison. He was sent home in a covered wagon. His wife met him at thedoor, and tenderly nursed him through the disorder. He recovered indue time, but she and her infant daughter died of the malady. Therewere hundreds of such cases: indeed throughout the war contagion wascarried into every part of the country by soldiers and formerprisoners. In some instances the British were accused of sellinginoculated clothing to the prisoners. Let us hope that some, at least, of these reports are unfounded. 

The North Dutch Church was the last of the churches used as prisons tobe torn down. As late as 1850 it was still standing, and marks ofbayonet thrusts were plainly to be discerned upon its pillars. Howmany of the wretched sufferers were in this manner done to death wehave no means of discovering, but it must have been easier to die inthat manner than to have endured the protracted agonies of death bystarvation. 

John Pintard, who assisted his uncle, Lewis Pintard, Commissioner forAmerican prisoners in New York, thus wrote of their sufferings. Itmust be remembered that the prisoners taken in 1776 died, for the mostpart, before our struggling nation was able to protect them, beforeCommissioners had been appointed, and when, in her feeble infancy, theRepublic was powerless to aid them. 

"The prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort Washington, sick, wounded, and well, were all indiscriminately huddled together, byhundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died by disease, andmany undoubtedly poisoned by inhuman attendants, for the sake of theirwatches or silver buckles. "

It was on the 20th of January, 1777, that Washington proposed toMr. Lewis Pintard, a merchant of New York, that he should accept theposition as resident agent for American prisoners. In May of that yearGeneral Parsons sent to Washington a plan for making a raid upon LongIsland, and bringing off the American officers, prisoners of war onparole. Washington, however, disapproved of the plan, and it was notexecuted. 

No one sympathized with the unfortunate victims of British crueltymore deeply than the Commander-in-chief. But he keenly felt theinjustice of exchanging sound, healthy, British soldiers, for starvedand dying wretches, for the most part unable even to reach theirhomes. In a letter written by him on the 28th of May, 1777, to GeneralHowe, he declared that a great proportion of prisoners sent out by theBritish were not fit subjects for exchange, and that, being made sounfit by the severity of their treatment, a deduction should bemade. It is needless to say that the British General refused thisproposition. 

On the 10th of June, 1777, Washington, in a long letter to GeneralHowe, states that he gave clothing to the British prisoners in hiscare. He also declares that he was not informed of the sufferings ofthe Americans in New York until too late, and that he was refusedpermission to establish an agency in that city to purchase what wasnecessary to supply the wants of the prisoners. 

It was not until after the battle of Trenton that anything could bedone to relieve these poor men. Washington, by his heroism, when heled his little band across the half frozen Delaware, saved the livesof the small remnant of prisoners in New York. After the battle he hadso many British and Hessian prisoners in his power, that he was ableto impress upon the British general the fact that American prisonerswere too valuable to be murdered outright, and that it was moreexpedient to keep them alive for purposes of exchange. 

Rivington's _Gazette_ of Jan. 15th, 1779, contains this notice:"Privateers arriving in New York Harbor are to put their prisoners onboard the Good Hope or Prince of Wales prison ships. 

"James Dick. "

If the Jersey were in use at that time it must have been too crowdedfor further occupancy. But although there is frequent mention in theperiodicals of the day of the prison ships of New York the Jersey didnot become notorious until later. 

On the 29th of June, 1779, Sir George Collier, in a notice inRivington's _Gazette_, forbids "privateers landing prisoners onLong Island to the damage and annoyance of His Majesty's faithfulservants. "

This order was no doubt issued, in fear of contagion, which fear ledthe British to remove their prison ships out of New York Harbor to theretired waters of Wallabout Bay, where the work of destruction couldgo on with less fear of producing a general pestilence. 

In the issue for the 23rd of August, 1779, we read: "To be sold, Thesails and rigging of the ship Good Hope. Masts, spars, and yards asgood as new. "

Among the accounts of cruelty to the prisoners it is refreshing tocome upon such a paragraph as this, from a New London, Conn. Paper, dated August 18th, 1779. "Last week five or six hundred Americanprisoners were exchanged. A flag returned here with 47 Americanprisoners, and though taken out of the Good Hope prison ship, it must(for once) be acknowledged that all were very well and healthy. Only150 left. "

The next quotation that we will give contains one of the firstmentions of the Jersey as a prison ship, that we have been able tofind. 

"New London, Sept. 1st, 1779. D. Stanton testifies that he was takenJune 5th and put in the Jersey prison ship. An allowance from Congresswas sent on board. About three or four weeks past we were removed onboard the Good Hope, where we found many sick. There is now a hospitalship provided, to which they are removed, and good attention paid. "

A Boston paper dated September 2nd, 1779, has the following: "Returnedto this port Alexander Dickey, Commissary of Prisoners, from New York, with a cartel, having on board 180 American prisoners. Theircountenances indicate that they have undergone every conceivableinhumanity. "

"New London, Sep. 29th 1779. A Flag arrived here from New York with117 prisoners, chiefly from New England. "

From Rivington's _Gazette, _ March lst, 1780. "Last Saturdayafternoon the Good Hope prison ship, lying in the Wallebocht Bay wasentirely consumed after having been wilfully set on fire by aConnecticut man named Woodbury, who confessed to the fact. He withothers of the incendiaries are removed to the Provost. The prisonerslet each other down from the port holes and decks into the water. "

So that was the end of the Good Hope. She seems to have been burned bysome of the prisoners in utter desperation, probably with some hopethat, in the confusion, they might be enabled to escape, though we donot learn that any of them were so fortunate, and the only consequenceof the deed appears to have been that the remaining ships were crowdedto suffocation. 

A writer in the Connecticut _Gazette, _ whose name is not given, says: "May 25th, 1780. I am now a prisoner on board the Falmouth, aplace the most dreadful; we are confined so that we have not room evento 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 smallbeer, while I lay unpitied at death's door, with a putrid fever, andthough I had money I was not permitted to send for it. I offeredrepeatedly a hard dollar for a pint. The wretch who went forward andbackward would not oblige me. I am just able to creep about. Fourprisoners 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 sentineland made for the Jersey shore, though several armed boats pursued, andshot was fired from the shipping. "

The New Jersey _Gazette_ of June 4th, 1780, says: "Thirty-fiveAmericans, including five officers, made their escape from the prisonship at New York and got safely off. "

"For Sale. The remains of the hospital ship Kitty, as they now lie atthe Wallebocht, with launch, anchors, and cables. " Gaine's_Mercury_, July 1st, 1780. 

New Jersey _Gazette_, August 23, 1780. "Captain Grumet, who madehis escape from the Scorpion prison ship, at New York, on the eveningof the 15th, says more lenity is shown the prisoners. There are 200 inthe 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'ssloops Scorpion and Hunter" are advertised for sale. Also "theStrombolo fire-ship, now lying in North River. " It appears, however, that there were no purchasers, and they remained unsold. They werestill 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. "

"Captain Cahoon with four others escaped from a prison ship to LongIsland in a boat, March 8, notwithstanding they were fired on from theprison and hospital ships, and pursued by guard boats from three inthe afternoon to seven in the evening. He left 200 prisoners in NewYork. " _Connecticut Journal_, March 22, 1781. 

The _Connecticut Gazette_, in May, 1781, stated that 1100 Frenchand American prisoners had died during the winter in the prisonships. "New London, November 17th, 1781. A Flag of truce returned herefrom New York with 132 prisoners, with the rest of those carried offby Arnold. They are chiefly from the prison ships, and some from theSugar House, and are mostly sick. "

"New London, Jan. 4th, 1782. 130 prisoners landed here from New YorkDecember third, in most deplorable condition. A great part are sincedead, and the survivors so debilitated that they will drag out amiserable existence. It is enough to melt the most obdurate heart tosee these miserable objects landed at our wharves sick and dying, andthe few rags they have on covered with vermin and their ownexcrements. "

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 NewYork, where, for some time, Colonel Ethan Allen was incarcerated. Dr. Elias Cornelius, a surgeon's mate, was taken prisoner by the Britishon the 22nd of August, 1777. On that day he had ridden to the enemy'sadvanced post to make observations, voluntarily accompanying ascouting party. On his way back he was surprised, over-powered, andcaptured by a party of British soldiers. 

This was at East Chester. He seems to have lagged behind the rest ofthe party, and thus describes the occurrence: "On riding into town(East Chester) four men started from behind a shed and took meprisoner. They immediately began robbing me of everything I had, horseand harness, pistols, Great Coat, shoe-buckles, pocket book, whichcontained over thirty pounds, and other things. The leader of theguard abused me very much. * * * When we arrived at King's Bridge Iwas put under the Provost Guard, with a man named Prichard and severalother prisoners. " They were kept at the guard house there for sometime, and regaled with mouldy bread, rum and water, and sour apples, which were thrown down for them to scramble for, as if they were somany pigs. They were at last marched to New York. Just before reachingthat city they were carried before a Hessian general to be "made ashow of. " The Hessians mocked them, told them they were all to behung, and even went so far as to draw their swords across theirthroats. But a Hessian surgeon's mate took pity on Cornelius, and gavehim a glass of wine. 

On the march to New York in the hot summer afternoon they were notallowed to stop even for a drink of water. Cornelius was in a faintingcondition, when a poor woman, compassionating his sad plight, asked tobe allowed to give them some water. They were then about four milesfrom New York. She ran into her house and brought out several pails ofbeer, three or four loaves of bread, two or three pounds of cheese, and besides all this, she gave money to some of the prisoners. Hername was Mrs. Clemons. She was from Boston and kept a small storealong the road to New York. 

Cornelius says: "We marched till we come to the Bowery, three quartersof a mile from New York. * * * As we come into town, Hessians, Negroes, and children insulted, stoned, and abused us. * * * In thisway we were led through half the streets as a show. * * * At last wewere ordered to the Sugar House, which formerly went by the name ofLivingstone's Sugar House. Here one Walley, a Sergeant of the 20thRegiment of Irish traitors in the British service, had the charge ofthe prisoners. This man was the most barbarous, cruel man that ever Isaw. He drove us into the yard like so many hogs. From there heordered us into the Sugar House, which was the dirtiest and mostdisagreeable place that I ever saw, and the water in the pump was notbetter than that in the docks. The top of the house was open * * * tothe 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 ofus four pounds of mouldy bread and four pounds of poor Irish pork forfour days. I asked Mr Walley if I was not to have my parole. Heanswered 'No!' When I asked for pen and ink to write a few lines to myfather, he struck me across the face with a staff which I have seenhim beat the prisoners. " (with)

On the next morning Cornelius was conveyed to the Provost Guard. "Iwas then taken down to a Dungeon. The provost marshal was SergeantKeith" (Cunningham appears to have been, at this time, murdering theunfortunate prisoners in his power at Philadelphia). 

"There was in this place a Captain Travis of Virginia, and Captain ofa sloop of war. There were also in this dismal place nine thieves, murderers, etc. A Captain Chatham was taken sick with nervousfever. I requested the Sergeant to suffer me to send for somemedicine, or I believed he might die, to which he replied he mightdie, and if he did he would bury him. 

"All the provisions each man had was but two pounds meat and twopounds bread for a week, always one and sometimes both was not fit toeat. * * * I had no change of linen from the 25th of August to the12th of September. "

It seems that the father of Cornelius, who lived on Long Island, wasan ardent Tory. Cornelius asked Sergeant O'Keefe to be allowed to sendto his father for money and clothing. But this was refused. "In thishideous place, " he continues, "I was kept until the 20th of September;when Sergeant Keath took Captains C. , and Travis, and myself, and ledus to the upper part of the prison, where were Ethan Allen, MajorWilliams, Paine and Wells and others. Major Williams belonged atMaryland and was taken prisoner at Fort Washington. * * *

"While at this place we were not allowed to speak to any friend, noteven out of the window. I have frequently seen women beaten with canesand ram-rods who have come to the prisons' windows to speak to theirHusbands, Sons, or Brothers, and officers put in the dungeon just forasking for cold water. "

Dried peas were given out to the prisoners, without the means ofcooking them. 

When Fort Montgomery was taken by the British the American officerswho had been in command at that post were brought to the Provost andput into two small rooms on the lower floor. Some of them were badlywounded, but no surgeon was allowed to dress their wounds. Corneliusasked permission to do so, but this was refused. "All of us in theupper prison, " he continues, "were sometimes allowed to go on top ofthe house. I took this opportunity to throw some Ointment and Lintdown the chimney to the wounded in the lower rooms with directions howto use it. I knew only one of them--Lt. Col. Livingstone. "

At the time of Burgoyne's surrender a rumor of the event reached theprisoners, and women passing along the street made signs to assurethem that that general was really a captive. Colonel Livingstonereceived a letter from his father giving an account of Burgoyne'ssurrender. "Soon we heard hollooing and other expressions of joy fromhim and others in the (lower) rooms. * * * He put the letter upthrough a crack in the floor for us to read. * * * The whole prisonwas filled with joy inexpressible. * * * From this time we werebetter treated, although the provision was bad, but we drew ratherlarger quantities of it. Some butter, and about a gill of rice andsome cole were dealt out to us, which we never drew before. 

"About this time my father came to see me. I was called down to thegrates. 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 shedmany 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 nothave been ruled by him. * * * Soon the Provost Marshal came and saidhe could not allow my father to stay longer. 

"* * * Toward the latter part of December we had Continental bread andbeef sent us, and as much wood as we wished to burn. A friend gave mesome money which was very useful. 

"Jan. 9th, 1778. This day Mr. Walley came and took from the prisonmyself and six others under guard to the Sugar House. * * * At thistime my health was bad, being troubled with the scurvy, and myprospects for the winter were dark. "

He describes the Sugar House as a dreadful place of torment, and saysthat thirty disorderly men were allowed to steal from the otherprisoners the few comforts they possessed. They would even take thesick out of their beds, steal their bedding, and beat and kick thewretched sufferers. The articles thus procured they would sell toMr. Walley (or Woolley) for rum. 

On the 13th of January Cornelius was sent to the hospital. The BrickMeeting House was used for the sick among the prisoners. 

"Here, " he continues, "I stayed until the 16th. I was not much betterthan I was in the Sugar House, no medicine was given me, though I hada cough and a fever. The Surgeon wished me as soon as I got better totake the care of the sick, provided I could get my parole. 

"Jan. 16th. On coming next morning he (the surgeon) said he could getmy parole. I was now determined to make my escape, though hardly ableto undertake it. Just at dusk, having made the Sentinel intoxicated, Iwith others, went out into the backyard to endeavor to escape over thefence. The others being backward about going first, I climbed upon atombstone and gave a spring, and went over safe, and then gave ordersfor the others to do so also. A little Irish lad undertook to leapover, and caught his clothes in the spikes on the wall, and madesomething of a noise. The sentinel being aroused called out 'Rouse!'which is the same as to command the guards to turn out. They were soonout and surrounded the prison. In the mean time I had made my way toSt. Paul's Church, which was the wrong way to get out of town. 

"The guards, expecting that I had gone towards North River, went inthat direction. On arriving at the Church I turned into the street togo 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. Iwished much to cross the river, but could not find any boatsuitable. While going along up the side of the river at 9 P. M. , I waschallenged by a sentinel with the usual word (Burdon), upon which Ianswered nothing, and on being challenged the second time I answered'Friend. ' He bade me advance and give the countersign, upon which Ifancied (pretended) I was drunk, and advanced in a staggering manner, and after falling to the ground he asked me where I was going. I toldhim 'Home, ' but that I had got lost, and having been to New York hadtaken rather too much liquor, and become somewhat intoxicated. Hethen asked me my name which I told him was Matthew Hoppen. Mr. Hoppenlived not far distant. I solicited him to put me in the rightdirection, but he told me I must not go until the Sergeant of theguard dismissed me from him, unless I could give him thecountersign. I still entreated him to let me go. Soon he consented anddirected my course, which I thanked him for. Soon the moon arose andmade it very light, and there being snow on the ground, crusted over, and no wind, therefore a person walking could be heard a greatdistance. 

"At this time the tumor in my lungs broke, and being afraid to coughfor fear of being heard, prevented me from relieving myself of the pusthat was lodged there. 

"I had now to cross lots that were cleared and covered with snow, thehouses being thick on the road which I was to cross, and for fear ofbeing heard I lay myself flat on my stomach and crept along on thefrozen snow. When I come to the fence I climbed over, and walked downthe road, near a house where there was music and dancing. At this timeone of the guards came out. I immediately fell down upon my face. Soonthe man went into the house. I rose again, and crossed the fence intothe field, and proceeded towards the river. There being no trees orrocks to prevent my being seen, and not being able to walk withoutbeing heard, and the dogs beginning to bark, I lay myself down flatagain, and crept across the field, which took me half an hour. I atlength 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 ofit a small house, and two Sentinels one on each side of it. Notknowing what to do I crept into a hole in the bank which led inbetween two rocks. Here I heard them talk. I concluded to endeavor togo around the head of the creek, which was about half a mile, but ongetting out of the hole I took hold of the limb of a tree which gaveway, and made a great noise. The sentinel, on hearing it said, 'Didyou not hear a person on the creek?'

"I waited some minutes and then went around the head of the creek andcame down the river on the other side to see if I could not find aboat to cross to Long Island. But on finding sentinels near by Iretreated a short distance back, and went up the river. I had notgone more than thirty rods when I saw another sentinel posted on thebank of the river where I must pass. * * * I stood some time thinkingwhat course to pursue, but on looking at the man found he did not moveand was leaning on his gun. I succeeded in passing by without wakinghim up. After this I found a Sentinel every fifteen or twenty rodsuntil I came within two miles of Hell Gate. Here I stayed until myfeet began to freeze, and having nothing to eat I went a mile furtherup the river. It now being late I crept into the bushes and lay downto think what to do next. I concluded to remain where I was during thenight, and early in the morning to go down to New York and endeavor tofind some house to conceal myself in. 

"In the morning as soon as the Revelry Beating commenced I went on myway to New York which was eight miles from this place. Afterproceeding awhile I heard the morning guns fired from New York, thoughI was four miles from it. I passed the sentinels unmolested down themiddle of the road, and arrived there before many were up. I met manyBritish and Hessian soldiers whom I knew very well, but they did notknow me. 

"I went to a house, and found them friends of America, and was kindlyreceived of them, and (they) promised to keep me a few days. 

"I had not been here but three quarters of an hour when I was obligedto call for a bed. After being in bed two or three hours I was takenwith a stoppage in my breast, and made my resperation difficult, andstill being afraid to cough loud for fear of being heard. The goodlady of the house gave me some medicine of my own prescribing, whichsoon gave me relief. Soon after a rumor spread about town among thefriends of America of my confinement, and expecting soon to beretaken, they took measures to have me conveyed to Long Island, whichwas accordingly done. 

"Feb. 18th, 1778. The same day I was landed I walked nine miles, andput up at a friend's house, during my walk I passed my Grandfather'shouse, and dare not go in for fear he would deliver me up to theBritish. Next morning I started on my journey again, and reached theplace I intended at 12 o'clock, and put up with two friends. The nextmorning I and two companions started from our friends with four daysprovisions, and shovels and axes to build us a hut in the woods. Weeach of us had a musket, powder, and balls. After going two miles inthe woods we dug away the snow and made us a fire. After warmingourselves we set to work to build ourselves a hut; and got one side ofit done the first day, and the next we finished it. It was tolerablycomfortable. We kept large fires, and cooked our meat on thecoals. In eight or ten days we had some provisions brought us by ourfriends. At this time we heard that Captain Rogers was cast away onLong 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. Atabout ten A. M. There came in a Tory, he knowing some of us seemedmuch troubled. We made him promise that he would not make known ourescape. The next day our two comrades went back to their old quarters, and Captain Rogers and myself and a friend went into the woods andbuilt us a hut, about ten miles from my former companions, with whomwe kept up a constant correspondence. Soon a man was brought to us byour friends, whom we found to be John Rolston, a man who was confinedin the Provost Jail with us, and was carried to the Hospital aboutthree weeks after I was, and made his escape the same way, and byfriends was brought to Long Island. 

"March 19th, 1778. About 5 o'clock a friend came to us and and said wehad an opportunity to go over to New England in a boat that had justlanded with four Tories, that had stolen the boat at Fairfield, Conn. We immediately sent word to our two friends with whom I firsthelped to build a hut, but they could not be found. At sunset thosethat came in the boat went off, and some of our friends guided usthrough the woods to the boat, taking two oars with us, for fear weshould not find any in the boat. On arrival at the place our kindfriends helped us off. We rowed very fast till we were a greatdistance from land. The moon rose soon, and the wind being fair wearrived we knew not where, about a half hour before day. We went onshore, and soon found it was Norwalk, Conn. We had bade farewell toLong Island, for the present, upon which I composed the followinglines:--

 "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

"After being rested, just as the day began to dawn, we walked to aplace called the Old Mill, where we found a guard (American) whohailed 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 homewith Captain Rodgers, for he lived in Norwalk. Here we went to bed atsunrise, and stayed till 10 o'clock. After dinner we took leave ofCaptain Rodgers and started for head-quarters in Pennsylvania, wherethe grand Army was at that time. In seven days we arrived at ValleyForge. 

"Elias Cornelius. "

This portion of the journal of Dr. Cornelius was published in the_Putnam County Republican_, in 1895, with a short account of theauthor. 

Dr. Cornelius was born on Long Island in 1758, and was just twenty atthe time of his capture. His ancestors came from Holland. They were ofgood birth, and brought a seal bearing their coat of arms to thiscountry. On the 15th of April, 1777, he was appointed surgeon's mateto the Second Regiment of Rhode Island troops under Colonel IsraelAngell. 

The article in the _Republican_ gives a description of Cunninghamand the Provost which we do not quote in full, as it contains littlethat is new. It says, however that "While Cunningham's victims weredying off from cold and starvation like cattle, he is said to haveactually mingled an arsenical preparation with the food to make themdie the quicker. It is recorded that he boasted that he had killedmore rebels with his own hand than had been slain by all the King'sforces in America. "

Cornelius continued in the Continental service until January 1st, 1781, and received an honorable discharge. After the war he settledat Yorktown, Westchester County, and came to be known as the "belovedphysician. " He was very gentle and kind, and a great Presbyterian. Hedied in 1823, and left descendants, one of whom is JudgeC. M. Tompkins, of Washington, D. C. 

As we have seen, Cunningham was not always in charge of theProvost. It appears that, during his absence in Philadelphia and otherplaces, where he spread death and destruction, he left SergeantO'Keefe, almost as great a villian as himself, in charge of thehapless prisoners in New York. It is to be hoped that his boast thathe had killed more Americans than all the King's forces is anexaggeration. It may, however, be true that in the years 1776 and1777 he destroyed more American soldiers than had, at that time, fallen on the field of battle. 

When an old building that had been used as a prison near the City Hallwas torn down a few years ago to make way for the Subway Station ofthe Brooklyn Bridge, a great number of skeletons were found _in itscellars_. That these men starved to death or came to their end byviolence cannot be doubted. New York, at the time of the Revolution, extended to about three-quarters of a mile from the Battery, itssuburbs lying around what is now Fulton Street. Cornelius speaks ofthe Bowery as about three-quarters of a mile from New York!"St. Paul's Church, " says Mr. Haltigan, in his very readable bookcalled "The Irish in the American Revolution, " "where Washingtonattended divine service, is now the only building standing thatexisted in those days, and that is a veritable monument to Irish andAmerican patriotism. * * * On the Boston Post Road, where it crossed abrook in the vicinity of Fifty-Second street and Second avenue, thencalled Beekman's Hill, William Beekman had an extensive countryhouse. During the Revolution this house was the British headquarters, and residence of Sir William Howe, where Nathan Hale was condemned todeath, and where Major Andrè received his last instructions beforegoing on his ill-fated mission to the traitor Arnold. "

Lossing tells us of the imprisonment of one of the signers of theDeclaration of Independence, in the following language: "Suffering andwoe held terrible sway after Cornwallis and his army swept over theplains of New Jersey. Like others of the signers of the greatDeclaration, Richard Stockton was marked for peculiar vengeance by theenemy. So suddenly did the flying Americans pass by in the autumn of1776, and so soon were the Hessian vultures and their Britishcompanions on the trail, that he had barely time to remove his familyto a place of safety before his beautiful mansion was filled with rudesoldiery. The house was pillaged, the horses and stock were drivenaway, the furniture was converted into fuel, the choice old wines inthe cellar were drunk, the valuable library, and all the papers ofMr. Stockton were committed to the flames, and the estate was laidwaste. Mr. Stockton's place of concealment was discovered by a partyof loyalists, who entered the house at night, dragged him from hisbed, and treating him with every indignity that malice could invent, hurried him to New York, where he was confined in the loathsomeProvost Jail and treated with the utmost cruelty. When, through theinterposition of Congress he was released, his constitution washopelessly shattered, and he did not live to see the independence ofhis country achieved. He died at his home at Princeton, in February, 1781, blessed to the last with the tender and affectionate attentionsof his noble wife. "

We have gathered very little information about the British prisons inthe south, but that little shall be laid before the reader. It repeatsthe same sad story of suffering and death of hundreds of martyrs tothe cause of liberty, and of terrible cruelty on the part of theEnglish as long as they were victorious. 

Mr. Haltigan tells of the "tender mercies" of Cornwallis at the southin 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 inhabitantsbegan. Every stipulation made by Sir Henry Clinton for their welfarewas not only grossly violated, but he sent out expeditions in varioussections to plunder and kill the inhabitants, and scourge the countrygenerally. One of these under Tarleton surprised Colonel Buford andhis Virginia regiment at Waxhaw, N. C. , and while negotiations werepending for a surrender, the Americans, without notice, were suddenlyattacked and massacred in cold blood. Colonel Buford and one hundredof his men saved themselves only by flight. Though the rest sued forquarter, one hundred and thirteen of them were killed on the spot, andone hundred and fifty more were so badly hacked by Tarleton's dragoonsthat they could not be removed. Only fifty-three out of the entireregiment were spared and taken prisoners. 'Tarleton's quarter'thereafter became the synonym for barbarity. * * * Feeling the silentinfluence of the eminent citizens under parole in Charleston, Cornwallis resolved to expatriate them to Florida. 

"Lieutenant Governor Gadsden and seventy-seven other public andinfluential men were taken from their beds by armed parties, beforedawn on the morning of the 27th of August, 1780, hurried on board theSandwich prison ship, without being allowed to bid adieu to theirfamilies, and were conveyed to St. Augustine. 

"The pretence for this measure, by which the British authoritiesattempted to justify it, was the false accusation that these men wereconcerting a scheme for burning the town and massacring the loyalinhabitants. Nobody believed the tale, and the act was made moreflagrant by this wicked calumny. Arrived at St. Augustine theprisoners were offered paroles to enjoy liberty within the precinctsof the town. Gadsden, the sturdy patriot, refused acquiescence, for hedisdained making further terms with a power that did not regard thesanctity of a solemn treaty. He was determined not to be deceived thesecond time. 

"'Had the British commanders, ' he said, 'regarded the terms ofcapitulation at Charleston I might now, although a prisoner, enjoy thesmiles and consolations of my family under my own roof; but evenwithout a shadow of accusation preferred against me, for any actinconsistent with my plighted faith, I am torn from them, and here, ina distant land, invited to enter into new engagements. I will give noparole. '

"'Think better of it, ' said Governor Tonyn, who was in command, 'asecond refusal of it will fix your destiny, --a dungeon will be yourfuture habitation. '

"'Prepare it then, ' replied the inflexible patriot, 'I will give noparole, so help me God!'

"And the petty tyrant did prepare it, and for forty-two weeks thatpatriot, of almost threescore years of age, never saw the light of theblessed sun, but lay incarcerated in the dungeon of the castle of StAugustine. All the other prisoners accepted paroles, but they wereexposed to indignities more harrowing to the sensitive soul than closeconfinement. When they were exchanged, in June, 1781, they were notallowed even to touch at Charleston, but were sent to Philadelphia, whither their families had been banished when the prisoners were takento the Sandwich. More than a thousand persons were thus exiled, andhusbands and wives, fathers and children, first met in a distant Stateafter a separation of ten months. 

"Nearly all the soldiers taken prisoners at Charleston were confinedin prison ships in the harbor, where foul air, bad food, filth, anddisease killed hundreds of them. Those confined at Haddrell's Pointalso suffered terribly. Many of them had been nurtured in affluence;now far from friends and entirely without means, they were reduced tothe greatest straits. They were not even allowed to fish for theirsupport, but were obliged to perform the most menial services. Afterthirteen months captivity, Cornwallis ordered them to be sent to theWest Indies, and this cruel order would have been carried out, but forthe general exchange of prisoners which took place soon afterwards. 

"Governor Rutledge, in speaking before the South Carolina Assembly atJacksonboro, thus eloquently referred to the rigorous andunjustifiable conduct of the British authorities:

"'Regardless of the sacred ties of honor, destitute of the feelings ofhumanity, and determined to extinguish, if possible, every spark offreedom in this country, the enemy, with the insolent pride ofconquerors, gave unbounded scope to the exercise of their tyrannicaldisposition, infringed their public engagements, and violated theirmost solemn treaties. Many of our worthiest citizens, without cause, were long and closely confined, some on board prison ships, and othersin the town and castle of St. Augustine. Their properties weredisposed of at the will and caprice of the enemy, and their familiessent to a different and distant part of the continent without themeans of support. Many who had surrendered prisoners of war werekilled in cold blood. Several suffered death in the most ignominiousmanner, and others were delivered up to savages and put to tortures, under which they expired. Thus the lives, liberties, and properties ofthe people were dependent solely on the pleasure of the Britishofficers, who deprived them of either or all on the most frivolouspretenses. Indians, slaves, and a desperate banditti of the mostprofligate characters were caressed and employed by the enemy toexecute their infamous purposes. Devastation and ruin marked theirprogress and that of their adherents; nor were their violencesrestrained by the charms or influence of beauty and innocence; eventhe fair sex, whom it is the duty of all, and the pleasure and prideof the brave to protect, they and their tender offspring, were victimsto the inveterate malice of an unrelenting foe. Neither the tears ofmothers, nor the cries of infants could excite pity or compassion. Notonly the peaceful habitation of the widow, the aged and the infirm, but the holy temples of the Most High were consumed in flames, kindledby their sacrilegious hands. They have tarnished the glory of theBritish army, disgraced the profession of a British soldiery, andfixed indelible stigmas of rapine, cruelty and peridy, and profanenesson the British name. '"

When in 1808 the Tammany Society of New York laid the cornerstone of avault in which the bones of many of the prison ship martyrs were laidJoseph D. Fay, Esq. , made an oration in which he said:

"But the suffering of those unfortunate Americans whom the dreadfulchances of war had destined for the prison-ships, were far greaterthan any which have been told. In that deadly season of the year, whenthe dog-star rages with relentless fury, when a pure air is especiallynecessary to health, the British locked their prisoner, after longmarches, in the dungeons of ships affected with contagion, and reekingwith the filth of crowded captives, dead and dying. * * * Noreasoning, no praying could obtain from his stern tyrants the smallestalleviation of his fate. 

"In South Carolina the British officer called Fraser, after trying inevery manner to induce the prisoners to enlist, said to them: 'Go toyour dungeons in the prison ships, where you shall perish and rot, butfirst let me tell you that the rations which have been hithertoallowed for your wives and children shall, from this moment, ceaseforever; and you shall die assured that they are starving in thepublic streets, and that _you_ are the authors of their fate. '

"A sentence so terribly awful appalled the firm soul of everylistening hero. A solemn silence followed the declaration; they casttheir wondering eyes one upon the other, and valor, for a moment, hungsuspended between love of family, and love of country. Love ofcountry at length rose superior to every other consideration, andmoved by one impulse, this glorious band of patriots thundered intothe astonished ears of their persecutors, 'The prison-ships and Death, or Washington and our country!'

"Meagre famine shook hands with haggard pestilence, joining a leagueto appall, conquer, and destroy the glorious spirit of liberty. "

CHAPTER XXIII

A POET ON A PRISON SHIP

Philip Freneau, the poet of the Revolution, as he has been called, wasof French Huguenot ancestry. The Freneaus came to New York in 1685. His mother was Agnes Watson, a resident of New York, and the poet wasborn on the second of January, 1752. 

In the year 1780 a vessel of which he was the owner, called theAurora, was taken by the British. Freneau was on board, though he wasnot the captain of the ship. The British man-of-war, Iris, made theAurora her prize, after a fight in which the sailing master and manyof the crew were killed. This was in May, 1780. The survivors werebrought to New York, and confined on board the prison ship, Scorpion. Freneau has left a poem describing the horrors of his captivity invery strong language, and it is easy to conceive that his sufferingmust have been intense to have aroused such bitter feelings. We give apart of his poem, as it contains the best description of theindignities inflicted upon the prisoners, and their mental andphysical sufferings that we have found in any work on the subject. 

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

 * * * * *

 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, --

 * * * * *

 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. 

 * * * * *

 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. 

 * * * * *

 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. 

 * * * * *

 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;

 * * * * *

 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;

 * * * * *

 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

This poem was written in 1780, the year that Freneau was captured. Hewas on board the Scorpion and Hunter about two months, and was thenexchanged. We fear that he has not in the least exaggerated thehorrors of his situation. In fact there seem to have been many bloodypages torn from the book of history, that can never be perused. Manydark deeds were done in these foul prisons, of which we can only givehints, and the details of many crimes committed against the helplessprisoners are left to our imaginations. But enough and more thanenough is known to make us fear that _inhumanity_, a species ofcruelty unknown to the lower animals, is really one of the mostprominent characteristics of men. History is a long and bloody recordof battles, massacres, torture chambers; greed and violence; bigotryand sin. The root of all crimes is selfishness. What we callinhumanity is we fear not _inhuman_, but _human nature unrestrained_. It is true that some progress is made, and it is no longer the customto kill all captives, at least not in civilized countries. But warwill always be "_horrida bella_, " chiefly because war means license, when the unrestrained, wolfish passions of man get for the time theupper hand. Our task, however, is not that of a moralist, but of anarrator of facts, from which all who read can draw the obvious moralfor themselves. 

CHAPTER XXIV

"THERE WAS A SHIP"

Of all the ships that were ever launched the "Old Jersey" is the mostnotorious. Never before or since, in the dark annals of humansufferings, has so small a space enclosed such a heavy weight ofmisery. No other prison has destroyed so many human beings in so shorta space of time. And yet the Jersey was once as staunch and beautifula vessel as ever formed a part of the Royal Navy of one of theproudest nations of the world. How little did her builders imaginethat she would go down to history accompanied by the execrations ofall who are acquainted with her terrible record!

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 thecoast of Long Island. We can find no record to prove that she was usedas a prison ship until the winter of that year. She was, at first, ahospital ship for British soldiers. 

The reason for the removal of the unfortunate prisoners from the shipsin New York Harbor was that pestilential sickness was fast destroyingthem, and it was feared that the inhabitants of New York would sufferfrom the prevailing epidemics. They were therefore placed in rottenhulks off the quiet shores of Long Island, where, secluded from thepublic eye, they were allowed to perish by the thousands from crueland criminal neglect. 

"The Old Jersey and the two hospital ships, " says General J. Johnson, "remained in the Wallabout until New York was evacuated by theBritish. The Jersey was the receiving ship: the others, truly, theships of death!

"It has been generally thought that all the prisoners died on boardthe Jersey. This is not true. Many may have died on board of her whowere not reported as sick, but all who were placed on the sick listwere removed to the hospital ships, from which they were usuallytaken, sewed up in a blanket, to their graves. 

"After the hospital ships were brought into the Wallabout, it wasreported that the sick were attended by physicians. Few indeed werethose who recovered, or came back to tell the tale of their sufferingsin those horrible places. It was no uncommon sight to see five or sixdead bodies brought on shore in a single morning, when a smallexcavation would be dug at the foot of the hill, the bodies cast intoit, and then a man with a shovel would quickly cover them byshovelling sand down the hill upon them. 

"Many were buried in a ravine of this hill and many on Mr. Remsen'sfarm. 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 thehouse; the shore, from Mr. Remsen's barn along the mill-pond toRappelye's farm; and the sandy island between the flood-gates and themill-dam, while a few were buried on the shore on the east side of theWallabout. 

"Thus did Death reign here, from 1776 (when the Whitby prison ship wasfirst moored in the Wallabout) until the peace. The whole Wallaboutwas a sickly place during the war. The atmosphere seemed to be chargedwith foul air: from the prison ships; and with the effluvia of deadbodies washed out of their graves by the tides. * * * More than halfof the dead buried on the outer side of the mill-pond, were washed outby the waves at high tide, during northeasterly winds. 

"The bodies of the dead lay exposed along the beach, drying andbleaching in the sun, and whitening the shores, till reached by thepower of a succeeding storm, as the agitated waves receded, the bonesreceded with them into the deep, where they remain, unseen by man, awaiting the resurrection morn, when, again joined to the spirits towhich they belong, they will meet their persecuting murderers at thebar of the Supreme Judge of the quick and the dead. 

"We have ourselves, " General Johnson continues, "examined many of theskulls lying on the shore. From the teeth they appeared to be theremains of men in the prime of life. "

We will quote more of this interesting account written by aneyewitness of the horrors he records, in a later chapter. At presentwe will endeavor to give the reader a short history of the Jersey, from the day of her launching to her degradation, when she was devotedto the foul usages of a prison ship. 

She was a fourth rate ship of the line, mounting sixty guns, andcarrying a crew of four hundred men. She was built in 1736, havingsucceeded to the name of a celebrated 50-gun ship, which was thenwithdrawn from the service, and with which she must not beconfounded. In 1737 she was fitted for sea as one of the ChannelFleet, commanded by Sir John Norris. 

In the fall of 1738 the command of the Jersey was given to CaptainEdmund Williams, and in July, 1739, she was one of the vessels whichwere sent to the Mediterranean under Rear Admiral Chaloner Ogle, whena threatened rupture with Spain rendered it necessary to strengthenthe naval force in that quarter. 

The trouble in the Mediterranean having been quieted by the appearanceof so strong a fleet, in 1740 the Jersey returned home; but she wasagain sent out, under the command of Captain Peter Lawrence, and wasone of the vessels forming the fleet of Sir John Norris, when, in thefall of that year and in the spring of 1741, that gentleman made hisfruitless demonstrations against the Spanish coast. Soon afterwardsthe Jersey, still forming one of the fleet commanded by Sir ChalonerOgle, was sent to the West Indies, to strengthen the forces at thatstation, commanded by Vice-Admiral Vernon, and she was with thatdistinguished officer when he made his well-known, unsuccessfulattack on Carthagena, and the Spanish dominions in America in thatyear. 

In March, 1743, Captain Lawrence was succeeded m the command of theJersey by Captain Harry Norris, youngest son of Admiral Sir JohnNorris: and the Jersey formed one of the fleet commanded by Sir JohnNorris, which was designed to watch the enemy's Brest fleet; buthaving suffered severely from a storm while on that station, she wasobliged to return to the Downs. 

Captain Harry Norris having been promoted to a heavier ship, thecommand of the Jersey was given soon afterwards to Captain CharlesHardy subsequently well known as Governor of the Colony of New York;and in June, 1744, that officer having been appointed to the commandof the Newfoundland Station, she sailed for North America, and borehis flag in those waters during the remainder of the year. In 1745, still under the immediate command of Captain Hardy, the Jersey was oneof the ships which, under Vice-Admiral Medley, were sent to theMediterranean, where Vice-Admiral Sir William Rowley then commanded;and as she continued on that station during the following year thereis little doubt that Captain Hardy remained there, during theremainder of his term of service on that vessel. 

It was while under the command of Captain Hardy in July, 1745, thatthe Jersey was engaged with the French ship, St. Esprit, of 74 guns, in one of the most desperate engagements on record. The actioncontinued during two hours and a half, when the St. Esprit wascompelled to bear away for Cadiz, where she was repaired and refittedfor 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 inOctober, 1748, she was reported among the "hulks" in port. 

On the renewal of hostilities with France in 1756 the Jersey wasrefitted for service, and the command given to Captain John Barker, and in May, 1757, she was sent to the Mediterranean, where, under theorders of Admiral Henry Osbourne, she continued upwards of two years, having been present, on the 28th of February, 1758, when M. Du Quesnemade his ineffectual attempt to reinforce M. De la Clue, who was thenclosely confined, with the fleet under his command, in the harbor ofCarthagena. 

On the 18th of August, 1759, while commanded by Captain Barker, theJersey, with the Culloden and the Conqueror, were ordered by AdmiralBoscowan, the commander of the fleet, to proceed to the mouth of theharbor of Toulon, for the purpose of cutting out or destroying twoFrench ships which were moored there under cover of the batteries withthe hope of forcing the French Admiral, De la Clue, to anengagement. The three ships approached the harbour, as directed, withgreat firmness; but they were assailed by so heavy a fire, not onlyfrom the enemy's ships and fortifications, but from several maskedbatteries, that, after an unequal but desperate contest of upwards ofthree hours, they were compelled to retire without having succeeded intheir object; and to repair to Gibraltar to be refitted. 

In the course of the year 1759 Captain Barker was succeeded in thecommand of the Jersey by Captain Andrew Wilkinson, under whom, formingone of the Mediterranean fleet, commanded by Sir Charles Saunders, shecontinued in active service until 1763. 

In 1763 peace was established, and the Jersey returned to England andwas laid up; but in May, 1766, she was again commissioned, and underthe command of Captain William Dickson, and bearing the flag ofAdmiral Spry, she was ordered to her former station in theMediterranean, where she remained 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 theclose of the summer, and her active duties appear to have been broughtto an end. 

She remained out of commission until 1776, when, without armament, andunder the command of Captain Anthony Halstead, she was ordered to NewYork as a hospital ship. 

Captain Halstead died on the 17th of May, 1778, and, in Julyfollowing, 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, whichwas to rot in the mud at her moorings, until, at last, she sank, andfor many years her wretched worm-eaten old hulk could be seen at lowtide, shunned by all, a sorry spectacle, the ghost of what had oncebeen a gallant man-of-war. 

This short history of the Jersey has been condensed from the accountwritten in 1865 by Mr. Henry B. Dawson and published at Morrisania, New York, in that 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 andof her victims: "But it was not in the ardent conflicts of the fieldonly, that our countrymen fell; it was not the ordinary chances of waralone which they had to encounter. Happy indeed, thrice happy wereWarren, Montgomery, and Mercer; happy those other gallant spirits whofell with glory in the heat of the battle, distinguished by theircountry and covered with her applause. Every soul sensible to honor, envies rather than compassionates their fate. It was in the dungeonsof our inhuman invaders; it was in the loathsome and pestiferousprisons, that the wretchedness of our countrymen still makes the heartbleed. It was there that hunger, and thirst, and disease, and all thecontumely that cold-hearted cruelty could bestow, sharpened every pangof death. Misery there wrung every fibre that could feel, before shegave the Blow of Grace which sent the sufferer to eternity. It is saidthat 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 singlepang. On board one only of these Prison ships above 11, 000 of ourbrave countrymen are said to have perished. She was called theJersey. Her wreck still remains, and at low ebb, presents to the worldits accursed and blighted fragments. Twice in twenty-four hours thewinds of Heaven sigh through it, and repeat the groans of our expiringcountrymen; and twice the ocean hides in her bosom those deadly andpolluted ruins, which all her waters cannot purify. Every rain thatdescends washes from the unconsecrated bank the bones of thoseintrepid sufferers. They lie, naked on the shore, accusing theneglect of their countrymen. How long shall gratitude, and even pietydeny them burial? They ought to be collected in one vast ossory, whichshall stand a monument to future ages, of the two extremes of humancharacter: of that depravity which, trampling on the rights ofmisfortune, perpetrated cold and calculating murder on a wretched anddefenceless prisoner; and that virtue which animated this prisoner todie 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; andwhose capital of Corinthian laurel ascending to Heaven, should showthe sainted Patriots that they have triumphed. 

"Deep and dreadful as the coloring of this picture may appear, it isbut a taint and imperfect sketch of the original. You must remember athousand unutterable calamities; a thousand instances of domestic aswell as national anxiety and distress; which mock description. Youought to remember them; you ought to hand them down in tradition toyour posterity, that they may know the awful price their fathers paidfor freedom. "

CHAPTER XXV

A DESCRIPTION OF THE JERSEY

SONNET

SUGGESTED BY A VISION OF THE JERSEY PRISON SHIP

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

It was stated in the portion of the eloquent oration given in our lastchapter that more than 11, 000 prisoners perished on board the Jerseyalone, during the space of three years and a half that she was mooredin the waters of Wallabout Bay. This statement has never beencontradicted, as far as we know, by British authority. Yet we trustthat it is exaggerated. It would give an average of more than threethousand deaths a year. The whole number of names copied from theEnglish War Records of prisoners on board the Jersey is about8, 000. This, however, is an incomplete list. You will in vain searchthrough its pages to find the recorded names of many prisoners whohave left well attested accounts of their captivity on board thatfatal vessel. All that we can say now is that the number who perishedthere is very great. 

As late as 1841 the bones of many of these victims were still to befound on the shores of Walabout Bay, in and around the Navy Yard. Onthe 4th of February of that year some workmen, while engaged indigging away an embankment in Jackson Street, Brooklyn, near the NavyYard, accidentally uncovered a quantity of human bones, among whichwas a skeleton having a pair of iron manacles still upon thewrists. (See Thompson's History of Long Island, Vol. 1, page 247. )

In a paper published at Fishkill on the 18th of May, 1783, is thefollowing card: "To All Printers, of Public Newspapers:--Tell it tothe world, and let it be published in every Newspaper throughoutAmerica, Europe, Asia, and Africa, to the everlasting disgrace andinfamy of the British King's commanders at New York: That during thelate war it is said that 11, 644 American prisoners have suffered deathby their inhuman, cruel, savage, and barbarous usage on board thefilthy and malignant British prison ship called the Jersey, lying atNew York. Britons tremble, lest the vengeance of Heaven fall on yourisle, 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"

This rough but strong old poem was written many years ago by aMr. Whitman We have taken the liberty of retouching it to a slightdegree. 

It is well known that _twenty hogsheads_ of bones were collectedin 1808 from the shores of the Wallabout, and buried under theauspices of the Tammany Society in a vault prepared for thepurpose. These were but a small part of the remains of the victims ofthe prison ships. Many were, as we have seen, washed into the sea, andmany more were interred on the shores of New York Harbor, before theprison ships were removed to the Wallabout. It will be better that weshould give the accounts left to us by eye witnesses of the sufferingson board these prison ships, and we will therefore quote from thenarrative of John Van Dyke, who was confined on board the Jerseybefore her removal to the Wallabout. 

Captain John Van Dyke was taken prisoner in May, 1780, at which timehe says: "We were put on board the prison ship Jersey, anchored offFly Market. (New York City) This ship had been a hospital ship. When Icame on board her stench was so great, and my breathing this putridair--I thought it would kill me, but after being on board some days Igot used to it, and as though all was a common smell. * * *

"On board the Jersey prison ship it was short allowance, so short aperson would think it was not possible for a man to live on. Theystarved the American prisoners to make them enlist in their service. Iwill now relate a fact. Every man in a mess of six took his daily turnto get the mess's provisions. One day I went to the galley and drew apiece of salt, boiled pork. I went to our mess to divide it. * * * Icut each one his share, and each one eat our day's allowance in onemouthful of this salt pork and nothing else. One day called peaday Itook the drawer of our doctor's chest (Dr. Hodges of Philadelphia) andwent to the galley, which was the cooking place, with my drawer for asoup dish. I held it under a large brass cock, the cook turned it. Ireceived the allowance of my mess, and behold! Brown water, andfifteen floating peas--no peas on the bottom of my drawer, and thisfor six men's allowance for 24 hours. The peas were all in the bottomof the kettle. Those left would be taken to New York and, I suppose, sold. 

"One day in the week, called pudding day, we would receive threepounds of damaged flour, in it would be green lumps such as their menwould not eat, and one pound of very bad raisins, one third raisinsticks. We would pick out the sticks, mash the lumps of flour, putall with some water into our drawer, mix our pudding and put it into abag and boil it with a tally tied to it with the number of ourmess. This was a day's allowance. We, for some time, drew a half pintof rum for each man. One day Captain Lard (Laird) who commanded theship Jersey, came on board. As soon as he was on the main deck of theship he cried out for the boatswain. The boatswain arrived and in avery quick motion, took off his hat. There being on deck two halfhogshead tubs where our allowance of rum was mixed into grog, CaptainL. , said, 'Have the prisoners had their allowance of rum today?' 'No, sir' answered the boatswain. Captain L. Replied, 'Damn your soul, yourascal, heave it overboard. '

"The boatswain, with help, upset the tubs of rum on the middledeck. The grog rum run out of the scuppers of the ship into theriver. I saw no more grog on board. * * * Every fair day a number ofBritish officers and sergeants would come on board, form in two rankson the quarter deck, facing inwards, the prisoners in the after partof the quarter deck. As the boatswain would call a name, the wordwould be 'Pass!' As the prisoners passed between the ranks officersand sergeants stared them in the face. This was done to catchdeserters, and if they caught nothing the sergeants would come on themiddle deck and cry out 'Five guineas bounty to any man that willenter his Majesty's service!'

"Shortly after this party left the ship a Hessian party would come onboard, and the prisoners had to go through the same routine of dutyagain. 

"From the Jersey prison ship eighty of us were taken to the pink sternsloop-of-war Hunter, Captain Thomas Henderson, Commander. We weretaken there in a large ship's long boat, towed by a ten-oar barge, andone other barge with a guard of soldiers in the rear. 

"On board the ship Hunter we drew one third allowance, and everyMonday we received a loaf of wet bread, weighing seven pounds for eachmess. This loaf was from Mr. John Pintard's father, of New York, theAmerican Commissary, and this bread, with the allowance of provisions, we found sufficient to live on. 

"After we had been on board some time Mr. David Sproat, the BritishCommissary of prisoners, came on board; all the prisoners were orderedaft; the roll was called and as each man passed him Mr. Sproat wouldask, 'Are you a seaman?' The answer was 'Landsman, landsman. ' Therewere ten landsmen to one answer of half seaman. When the roll wasfinished Mr. Sproat said to our sea officers, 'Gentlemen, how do youmake out at sea, for the most part of you are landsmen?'

"Our officers answered: 'You hear often how we make out. When we meetour force, or rather more than our force we give a good account ofthem. '

"Mr. Sproat asked, 'And are not your vessels better manned thanthese. Our officers replied, 'Mr Sproat, we are the best manned out ofthe port of Philadelphia. ' Mr. Sproat shrugged his shoulders saying, 'I cannot see how you do it. '"

We do not understand what John Van Dyke meant by his expression "halfseaman. " It is probable that the sailors among the prisoners pretendedto be soldiers in order to be exchanged. There was much moredifficulty in exchanging sailors than soldiers, as we shall see. DavidSproat was the British Commissary for Naval Prisoners alone. In apaper published in New York in April 28th, 1780, appears the followingnotice:--"I do hereby direct all Captains, Commanders, Masters, andPrize Masters of ships and other vessels, who bring naval prisonersinto this port, immediately to send a list of their names to thisoffice, No. 33 Maiden Lane, where they will receive an order how todispose of them. 

"(Signed) David Sproat. "

The Jersey and some of the other prison ships often had landsmen amongtheir prisoners, at least until the last years of the war, when theywere so overcrowded with sailors, that there must have been scant roomfor any one else. 

The next prisoner whose recollections we will consider is CaptainSilas Talbot, who was confined on board the Jersey in the fall of1780. He says: "All her port holes were closed. * * * There were about1, 100 prisoners on board. There were no berths or seats, to lie downon, not a bench to sit on. Many were almost without cloaths. Thedysentery, fever, phrenzy and despair prevailed among them, and filledthe place with filth, disgust and horror. The scantiness of theallowance, the bad quality of the provisions, the brutality of theguards, and the sick, pining for comforts they could not obtain, altogether furnished continually one of the greatest scenes of humandistress and misery ever beheld. It was now the middle of October, theweather was cool and clear, with frosty nights, so that the number ofdeaths per day was _reduced to an average of ten_, and thisnumber was considered by the survivors a small one, when compared withthe terrible mortality that had prevailed for three months before. Thehuman bones and skulls, yet bleaching on the shore of Long Island, anddaily exposed, by the falling down of the high bank on which theprisoners were buried, is a shocking sight, and manifestlydemonstrates that the Jersey prison ship had been as destructive as afield of battle. "

CHAPTER XXVI

THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX

Ebenezer Fox, a prisoner on board the Jersey, wrote a little bookabout his dreadful experiences when he was a very old man. The bookwas written in 1838, and published by Charles Fox in Boston in1848. Ebenezer Fox was born in the East Parish of Roxbury, Mass. , in1763. In the spring of 1775 he and another boy named Kelly ran away tosea. Fox shipped as a cabin boy in a vessel commanded by CaptainJoseph Manchester. 

He made several cruises and returned home. In 1779 he enlisted, goingas a substitute for the barber to whom he was apprenticed. His companywas commanded by Captain William Bird of Boston in a regiment underColonel Proctor. Afterwards he signed ship's papers and entered thenaval service on a twenty gun ship called the Protector, Captain JohnF. Williams of Massachusetts. On the lst of April, 1780, they sailedfor a six months cruise, and on the ninth of June, 1780, fought theAdmiral Duff until she took fire and blew up. A short time afterwardsthe Protector was captured by two English ships called the Roebuck andMayday. 

Fox concealed fifteen dollars in the crown of his hat, and fifteenmore in the soles of his shoes. 

All the prisoners were sent into the hold. One third of the crew ofthe Protector were pressed into the British service. The others weresent to the Jersey. Evidently this prison ship had already becomenotorious, for Fox writes: "The idea of being incarcerated in thisfloating pandemonium filled us with horror, but the ideas we hadformed of its horror fell far short of the reality. * * * The Jerseywas removed from the East River, and moored with chain cables at theWallabout in consequence of the fears entertained that the sicknesswhich prevailed among the prisoners might spread to the shore. * * * Inow found myself in a loathsome prison, among a collection of the mostwretched and disgusting looking objects that I ever beheld in humanform. 

"Here was a motley crew, covered with rags and filth; visages pallidwith disease; emaciated with hunger and anxiety; and hardly retaininga trace of their original appearance. Here were men, who had onceenjoyed life while riding over the mountain wave or roaming throughpleasant fields, full of health and vigor, now shrivelled by a scantyand unwholesome diet, ghastly with inhaling an impure atmosphere, exposed to contagion; in contact with disease, and surrounded with thehorrors of sickness, and death. Here, thought I, must I linger outthe morning of my life" (he was seventeen) "in tedious days andsleepless nights, enduring a weary and degrading captivity, till deathshould terminate my sufferings, and no friend will know of mydeparture. 

"A prisoner on board the 'Old Jersey!' The very thought wasappalling. I could hardly realize my situation. 

"The first thing we found it necessary to do after our capture was toform ourselves into small parties called messes, consisting of six ineach, as previous to doing this, we could obtain no food. All theprisoners were obliged to fast on the first day of their arrival, andseldom on the second could they obtain any food in season for cookingit. * * * All the prisoners fared alike; officers and sailors receivedthe same treatment on board of this old hulk. * * * We were all'rebels. ' The only distinction known among us was made by theprisoners themselves, which was shown in allowing those who had beenofficers previous to their captivity, to congregate in the extremeafterpart of the ship, and to keep it exclusively to themselves astheir place of abode. * * * The prisoners were confined in the twomain decks below. The lowest dungeon was inhabited by those prisonerswho were foreigners, and whose treatment was more severe than that ofthe Americans. 

"The inhabitants of this lower region were the most miserable anddisgusting looking objects that can be conceived. Daily washing insalt water, together with their extreme emaciation, caused the skin toappear like dried parchment. Many of them remained unwashed for weeks;their hair long, and matted, and filled with vermin; their beardsnever cut except occasionally with a pair of shears, which did notimprove their comeliness, though it might add to their comfort. Theirclothes were mere rags, secured to their bodies in every way thatingenuity could devise. 

"Many of these men had been in this lamentable condition for twoyears, part of the time on board other prison ships; and having givenup all hope of ever being exchanged, had become resigned to theirsituation. These men were foreigners whose whole lives had been onecontinual scene of toil, hardship, and suffering. Their feelings wereblunted; their dispositions soured; they had no sympathies for theworld; no home to mourn for; no friends to lament for their fate. Butfar different was the condition of the most numerous class ofprisoners, composed mostly of young men from New England, fresh fromhome. 

"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, andwhat they were, their desire for home became a madness. The dismal anddisgusting scene around; the wretched objects continually in sight;and 'hope deferred which maketh the heart sick', produced a state ofmelancholy that often ended in death, --the death of a broken heart. "

Fox describes the food and drink, the prison regulations, deaths, andburials, just as they were described by Captain Dring, who wrote thefullest account of the Jersey, and from whose memoirs we shall quotefurther on. He says of their shallow graves in the sand of theWallabout: "This was the last resting place of many a son and abrother, --young and noble-spirited men, who had left their happyhomes and kind friends to offer their lives in the service of theircountry. * * * Poor fellows! They suffered more than their oldercompanions in misery. They could not endure their hopeless andwearisome captivity:--to live on from day to day, denied the power ofdoing anything; condemned to that most irksome and heart-sickening ofall situations, utter inactivity; their restless and impetuousspirits, like caged lions, panted to be free, and the conflict was toomuch for endurance, enfeebled and worn out as they were with sufferingand confinement. * * * The fate of many of these unhappy victims musthave remained forever unknown to their friends; for in so large anumber, no exact account could be kept of those who died, and theyrested in a nameless grave; while those who performed the last sadrites were hurried away before their task was half completed, andforbid to express their horror and indignation at this insultingnegligence towards the dead. * * *

"The regular crew of the Jersey consisted of a Captain, two Mates, asteward, a cook, and about twelve sailors. There was likewise on boarda guard of about thirty soldiers, from the different regimentsquartered on Long Island, who were relieved by a fresh party everyweek. 

"The physical force of the prisoners was sufficient at any time totake possession of the ship, but the difficulty was to dispose ofthemselves after a successful attempt. Long Island was in possessionof the British, and the inhabitants were favorable to the Britishcause. To leave the ship and land on the island, would be followed byalmost certain detection; and the miseries of our captivity would beincreased by additional cruelties heaped upon us from the vindictivefeelings of our oppressors. 

"Yet, small as was the chance for succeeding in the undertaking, theattempt to escape was often made, and in not a few instances withsuccess. 

"Our sufferings were so intolerable, that we felt it to be our duty toexpose ourselves to almost any risk to obtain our liberty. To remainon board of the prison ship seemed to be certain death, and in itsmost horrid form; to be killed, while endeavoring to get away, couldbe no worse. 

"American prisoners are proverbial for their ingenuity in devisingways and means to accomplish their plans, whether they be devised fortheir own comfort and benefit, or for the purpose of annoying andtormenting their keepers. 

"Although we were guarded with vigilance yet there did not appear muchsystem in the management of the prisoners; for we frequently missed awhole mess from our number, while their disappearance was not noticedby our keepers. Occasionally a few would be brought back who had beenfound in the woods upon Long Island, and taken up by the Tories. 

"Our mess one day noticed that the mess that occupied the place nextto them were among the missing. This circumstance led to muchconjecture and inquiry respecting the manner in which they hadeffected their escape. By watching the movements of our neighbors wesoon found out the process necessary to be adopted. 

"Any plan which a mess had formed they kept a secret among theirnumber, in order to insure a greater prospect of success. * * * Forthe convenience of the officers of the ship a closet, called the"round house", had been constructed under the forecastle, the door ofwhich was kept locked. This room was seldom used, there being otherconveniences in the ship preferable to it. 

"Some of the prisoners had contrived to pick the lock of the door; andas it was not discovered the door remained unfastened. 

"After we had missed our neighbor prisoners, and had ascertained toour satisfaction their mode of operation, the members of our messdetermined to seize the first opportunity that offered to attempt ourescape. We selected a day, about the 15th of August, and made all thepreparations in our power for ensuring us success in ourundertaking. At sunset, when the usual cry from the officer of theguard, 'Down, rebels, down!' was heard, instead of following themultitude down the hatchways, our mess, consisting of six, allAmericans, succeeded in getting into the 'round house', exceptone. 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 nearthe place of our confinement. The situation of the five, as closelypacked in the round house as we could stand and breathe, was souncomfortable as to make us very desirous of vacating it as soon aspossible. 

"We remained thus cooped up, hardly daring to breathe, for fear weshould be heard by the guard. The prisoners were all below, and nonoise was heard above, saving the tramp of the guard as he paced thedeck. It was customary, after the prisoners were secured below, forthe ship's mate every night to search above; this, however, wasconsidered a mere formality, and the duty was very imperfectlyexecuted. While we were anxiously awaiting the completion of thisservice, an event transpired, that we little anticipated, and whichled to our detection. 

"One of the prisoners, an Irishman, had made his arrangements toescape the same evening, and had not communicated with any one on thesubject except a countryman of his, whom he persuaded to bury him upin the coal hole, near the forecastle. 

"Whether his friend covered him faithfully or not, or whether theIrishman thought that if he could not see anybody, nobody could seehim, or whether, feeling uncomfortable in his position, he turned overto relieve himself, I know not; but when the mate looked in the coalhole he espied something rather whiter than the coal, which he soonascertained to be the Irishman's shoulder. This discovery made theofficer suspicious, and induced him to make a more thorough searchthan usual. 

"We heard the uproar that followed the discovery, and the threats ofthe mate that he would search every damned corner. He soon arrived atthe round house, and we heard him ask a soldier for the key. Our hopesand expectations were a little raised when we heard the soldier reply, 'There is no need of searching this place, for the door is keptconstantly locked. '

"But the mate was not to be diverted from his purpose, and ordered thesoldier to get the key. 

"During the absence of the soldier, we had a little time to reflectupon the dangers of our situation; crowded together in a space sosmall as not to admit of motion; with no other protection than thethickness of a board; guarded on the outside by about twelve soldiers, armed with cutlasses, and the mate, considerably drunk, with a pistolin each hand, threatening every moment to fire through;--our feelingsmay be more easily conceived than described. There was but little timefor deliberation; something must be immediately done. * * * In awhispered consultation of some moments, we conceived that the safestcourse we could pursue would be to break out with all the violence wecould exercise, overcome every obstacle, and reach the quarter-deck. By this time the soldier had arrived with the key, and upon applyingit, the door was found to be unlocked. We now heard our last summonsfrom the mate, with imprecations too horrible to be repeated, andthreatening us with instant destruction if we did not immediately comeout. 

"To remain any longer where we were would have been certain death tosome of us; we therefore carried our hastily formed plan intoexecution. The door opened outwards, and forming ourselves into asolid body, we burst open the door, rushed out pellmell, and making abrisk use of our fists, knocked the guard heels over head in alldirections, at the same time running with all possible speed for thequarter-deck. As I rushed out, being in the rear, I received a woundfrom a cutlass on my side, the scar of which remains to this day. 

"As nearly all the guards were prostrated by our unexpected sally, wearrived at our destined place, without being pursued by anything butcurses and threats. 

"The mate exercised his authority to protect us from the rage of thesoldiers, who were in pursuit of us, as soon as they had recoveredfrom the prostration into which they had been thrown; and, with theassistance of the Captain's mistress, whom the noise had brought upondeck, and whose sympathy was excited when she saw we were about to bemurdered: she placed herself between us and the enraged guard, andmade such an outcry as to bring the Captain" (Laird) "up, who orderedthe guard to take their station at a little distance and to watch usnarrowly. We were all put in irons, our feet being fastened to a longbar, a guard placed over us, and in this situation we were left topass the night. 

"During the time of the transactions related, our fellow prisoner, Putnam, remained quietly under the tub, and heard the noise from hishiding place. He was not suffered to remain long in suspense. Asoldier lifted up the tub, and seeing the poor prisoner, thrust hisbayonet into his body, just above his hip, and then drove him to thequarter-deck, to take his place in irons among us. The blood flowedprofusely from his wound, and he was soon after sent on board thehospital ship, and we never heard anything respecting him afterwards. 

"With disappointed expectations we passed a dreary night. A cold fog, followed by rain, came on; to which we were exposed, without anyblankets or covering to protect us from the inclemency of theweather. Our sufferings of mind and body during that horrible night, exceeded any that I have ever experienced. 

"We were chilled almost to death, and the only way we could preserveheat enough in our bodies to prevent our perishing, was to lie uponeach other by turns. 

"Morning at last came, and we were released from our fetters. Ourlimbs were so stiff that we could hardly stand. Our fellow prisonersassisted us below, and wrapping us in blankets, we were at lastrestored to a state of comparative comfort. 

"For attempting to escape we were punished by having our miserableallowance reduced one third in quantity for a month; and we had foundthe whole of it hardly sufficient to sustain life. * * *

"One day a boat came alongside containing about sixty firkins ofgrease, which they called butter. The prisoners were always ready toassist in the performance of any labor necessary to be done on boardof the ship, as it afforded some little relief to the tedious monotonyof their lives. On this occasion they were ready to assist in hoistingthe butter on board. The firkins were first deposited upon the deck, and then lowered down the main hatchway. Some of the prisoners, whowere the most officious in giving their assistance, contrived tosecrete a firkin, by rolling it forward under the forecastle, andafterwards carrying it below in their bedding. 

"This was considered as quite a windfall; and being divided among afew of us, proved a considerable luxury. It helped to fill up thepores in our mouldy bread, when the worms were dislodged, and gave tothe crumbling particles a little more consistency. 

"Several weeks after our unsuccessful attempt to escape, another oneattended with better success, was made by a number of theprisoners. At sunset the prisoners were driven below, and the mainhatchway was closed. In this there was a trap-door, large enough for aman to pass through, and a sentinel was placed over it with orders topermit one prisoner at a time to come up during the night. 

"The plan that had been formed was this:--one of the prisoners shouldascend, and dispose of the sentinel in such a manner that he should beno obstacle in the way of those who were to follow. 

"Among the soldiers was an Irishman who, in consequence of having ahead of hair remarkable for its curly appearance, and withal a verycrabbed disposition, had been nicknamed 'Billy the Ram'. He was thesentinel on duty this night, for one was deemed sufficient, as theprisoners were considered secure when they were below, having no otherplace of egress saving the trap-door, over which the sentinel wasstationed. 

"Late in the night one of the prisoners, a bold, athletic fellow, ascended upon deck, and in an artful manner engaged the attention ofBilly the Ram, in conversation respecting the war; lamenting that hehad engaged in so unnatural a contest, expressing his intention ofenlisting in the British service, and requesting Billy's advicerespecting the course necessary to be pursued to obtain the confidenceof 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 theconversation. Unsuspicious of any evil design on the part of theprisoner, and while leaning carelessly on his gun, Billy received atremendous blow from the fist of his entertainer on the back of hishead, which brought him to the deck in a state of insensibility. 

"As soon as he was heard to fall by those below, who were anxiouslyawaiting the result of the friendly conversation of their pioneer withBilly, and were satisfied that the final knock-out argument had beengiven, they began to ascend, and, one after another, to jumpoverboard, to the number of about thirty. 

"The noise aroused the guard, who came upon deck, where they foundBilly not sufficiently recovered from the stunning effects of the blowhe had received to give any account of the transaction. A noise washeard in the water; but it was so dark that no object could bedistinguished. The attention of the guard, however, was directed tocertain spots which exhibited a luminous appearance, which salt wateris known to assume in the night when it is agitated, and to theseappearances they directed their fire, and getting out the boats, picked out about half the number that attempted to escape, many ofwhom were wounded, though not one was killed. The rest escaped. 

"During the uproar overhead the prisoners below encouraged thefugitives, and expressed their approbation of their proceedings inthree hearty cheers; for which gratification we suffered our usualpunishment--a short allowance of our already short and miserable fare. 

"For about a fortnight after this transaction it would have been ahazardous experiment to approach near to 'Billy the Ram', and it was along time before we ventured to speak to him, and finally to obtainfrom him an account of the events of the evening. 

"Not long after this another successful attempt to escape was made, which for its boldness is perhaps unparalleled in the history of suchtransactions. 

"One pleasant morning about ten o'clock a boat came alongside, containing a number of gentlemen from New York, who came for thepurpose of gratifying themselves with a sight of the miserable tenantsof the prison-ship, influenced by the same kind of curiosity thatinduces some people to travel a great distance to witness anexecution. 

"The boat, which was a beautiful yawl, and sat like a swan upon thewater, was manned by four oarsmen, with a man at the helm. Considerable attention and respect was shown the visitors, the ship'sside being manned when they showed their intention of coming on board, and the usual naval courtesies extended. The gentlemen were soon onboard; and the crew of the yawl, having secured her to the forechainson the larboard side of the ship, were permitted to ascend the deck. 

"A soldier as usual was pacing with a slow and measured tread thewhole length of the deck, wheeling round with measured precision, whenhe arrived at the end of his walk; and whether upon this occasion, anyone interested in his movements had secretly slipped a guinea into hishand, not to quicken but to retard his progress, was never known; butit was evident to the prisoners that he had never occupied so muchtime before in measuring the distance with his back to the place wherethe yawl was fastened. 

"At this time there were sitting in the forecastle, apparentlyadmiring the beautiful appearance of the yawl, four mates and acaptain, who had been brought on board as prisoners a few daysprevious, taken in some vessel from a southern port. 

"As soon as the sentry had passed these men, in his straightforwardmarch, they, in a very quiet manner, lowered themselves down into theyawl, cut the rope, and the four mates taking in hand the oars, whilethe captain managed the helm, in less time than I have taken todescribe it, they were under full sweep from the ship. They plied theoars with such vigor that every stroke they took seemed to take theboat out of the water. In the meantime the sentry heard nothing andsaw nothing of this transaction, till he had arrived at the end of hismarch, when, in wheeling slowly round, he could no longer affectignorance, or avoid seeing that the boat was several times its lengthfrom the ship. He immediately fired; but, whether he exercised hisbest skill as a marksman, or whether it was on account of the boat'sgoing ahead its whole length at every pull of the rowers, I couldnever exactly ascertain, but the ball fell harmlessly into thewater. The report of the gun brought the whole guard out, who blazedaway at the fugitives, without producing any dimunition in therapidity of their progress. 

"By this time the officers of the ship were on deck with theirvisitors; and while all were gazing with astonishment at the boldnessand effrontery of the achievement, the guard were firing as fast asthey could load their guns. When the prisoners gave three cheers tothe yawl's crew, as an expression of their joy at their success, theCaptain ordered all of us to be driven below at the point of thebayonet, and there we were confined the remainder of the day. 

"These five men escaped, greatly to the mortification of the captainand officers of the prison-ship. After this, as long as I remained aprisoner, whenever any visitors came on board, all the prisoners weredriven below, where they were obliged to remain till the company haddeparted. "

CHAPTER XXVII

THE EXPERIENCE OF EBENEZER FOX (CONTINUED)

The miseries of our condition were continually increasing. Thepestilence on board spread rapidly; and every day added to our bill ofmortality. The young were its most frequent victims. The number ofthe prisoners was constantly augmenting, notwithstanding the frequentand successful attempts to escape. When we were mustered and calledupon to answer to our names, and it was ascertained that nearly twohundred had mysteriously disappeared, without leaving any informationof their departure, the officers of the ship endeavored to make amendsfor their past remissness by increasing the rigor of our confinement, and depriving us of all hope of adopting any of the means forliberating ourselves from our cruel thralldom, so successfullypracticed by many of our comrades. 

"With the hope that some relief might be obtained to meliorate thewretchedness of our situation, the prisoners petitioned GeneralClinton, commanding the British forces in New York, for permission tosend a memorial to General Washington, describing our condition, andrequesting his influence in our behalf, that some exchange ofprisoners might be effected. 

"Permission was obtained, and the memorial was sent. * * * GeneralWashington wrote to Congress, and also to the British Commissary ofNaval prisoners, remonstrating with him, deprecating the crueltreatment of the Americans, and threatening retaliation. 

"The long detention of American sailors on board of Britishprison-ships was to be attributed to the little pains taken by ourcountrymen to retain British subjects who were taken prisoner on theocean 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 portwere suffered to go at large; for in the impoverished condition of thecountry, no state or town was willing to subject itself to the expenceof maintaining prisoners in a state of confinement; they werepermitted to provide for themselves. In this way the number of Britishseamen was too small for a regular and equal exchange. Thus theBritish seamen, after their capture, enjoyed the blessings of liberty, the light of the sun, and the purity of the atmosphere, while the poorAmerican sailors were compelled to drag out a miserable existence amidwant and distress, famine and pestilence. As every principle ofjustice and humanity was disregarded by the British in their treatmentof the prisoners, so likewise was every moral and legal right violatedin compelling them to enter into their service. 

"We had obtained some information in relation to an expected draughtthat would soon be made upon the prisoners to fill up a complement ofmen that were wanted for the service of his Majesty's fleet. 

"One day in the last part of August our fears for the dreaded eventwere realized. A British officer with a number of soldiers came onboard. The prisoners were all ordered on deck, placed on the larboardgangway, and marched in single file round to the quarter-deck, wherethe officers stood to inspect them, and select such ones as suitedtheir 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 ofthe ablest, nearly all of whom were Americans, and they were directedto go below under a guard, to collect together whatever things theywished to take belonging to them. They were then driven into theboats, waiting alongside, and left the prison ship, not to enjoy theirfreedom, but to be subjected to the iron despotism, and gallingslavery of a British man-of-war; to waste their lives in a foreignservice; and toil for masters whom they hated. Such, however, were thehorrors of our situation as prisoners, and so small was the prospectof relief, that we almost envied the lot of those who left the ship togo into the service of the enemy. 

"That the reader may not think I have given an exaggerated account ofour sufferings on board the Jersey, I will here introduce some factsrelated in the histories of the Revolutionary War. I introduce them asan apology for the course that I and many of my fellow citizensadopted to obtain temporary relief from our sufferings. 

"The prisoners captured by Sir William Howe in 1776 amounted toseveral thousands. * * * The privates were confined in prisons, deserted churches, and other large open buildings, entirely unfit forthe habitations of human beings, in severe winter weather, without anyof the most ordinary comforts of life. 

"To the indelible and everlasting disgrace of the British name, theseunfortunate victims of a barbarity more befitting savages thangentlemen belonging to a nation boasting itself to be the mostenlightened and civilized of the world, --many hundreds of them, perished from want of proper food and attention. 

"The cruelty of their inhuman jailors was not terminated by the deathof these wretched men, as so little care was taken to remove thecorpses that seven dead bodies have been seen at one time lying in oneof the buildings in the midst of their living fellow-prisoners, whowere perhaps envying them their release from misery. Their food * * *was generally that which was rejected by the British ships as unfit tobe eaten by the sailors, and unwholesome in the highest degree, aswell as disgusting in taste and appearance. 

"In December, 1776, the American board of war, after procuring suchevidence as convinced them of the truth of their statements, reportedthat: 'There were 900 privates and 300 officers of the American army, prisoners in the city of New York, and 500 privates and 50 officers inPhiladelphia. That since the beginning of October, all these officersand privates had been confined in prisons or in the provost. That, from the best evidence the subject could admit of, the generalallowance 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 acommon practice of the British to keep their prisoners four or fivedays without a morsel of meat and thus tempt them to enlist to savetheir lives. '

"Many were actually starved to death, in hope of making them enrollthemselves in the British army. The American sailors when capturedsuffered even more than the soldiers, for they were confined on boardprison ships in great numbers, and in a manner which showed that theBritish officers were willing to treat fellow beings, whose only crimewas love of liberty, worse than the vilest animals; and indeed inevery respect, with as much cruelty as is endured by the miserableinhabitants of the worst class of slave ships. * * * In the course ofthe war it has been asserted on good evidence, that 11, 000 prisonersdied on board the Jersey. * * * These unfortunate beings died in agonyin the midst of their fellow sufferers, who were obliged to witnesstheir tortures, without the power of relieving their dying countrymen, even by cooling their parched lips with a drop of cold water, or abreath of fresh air; and, when the last breath had left the emaciatedbody, they sometimes remained for hours in close contact with thecorpse, without room to shrink from companions that Death had made sohorrible, and when at last the dead were removed, they were sent inboats to the shore, and so imperfectly buried that long after the warwas ended, their bones lay whitening in the sun on the beach of LongIsland, a lasting memorial of British cruelty, so entirely unwarrantedby all the laws of war or even common humanity. 

"They could not even pretend that they were retaliating, for theAmericans invariably treated their prisoners with kindness, and asthough they were fellow men. All the time that these cruelties wereperformed those who were deprived of every comfort and necessary wereconstantly entreated to leave the American service, and induced tobelieve, while kept from all knowledge of public affairs, that therepublican cause was hopeless; that all engaged in it would meet thepunishment of traitors to the king, and that all their prospect ofsaving their lives, or escaping from an imprisonment worse than deathto young and high-spirited men, as most of them were, would be injoining the British army, where they would be sure of good pay andquick promotion. 

"These were the means employed by our enemies to increase their ownforces, and discourage the patriots, and it is not strange they weresuccessful in many instances. High sentiments of honor could not wellexist in the poor, half-famished prisoners, who were denied even waterto quench their thirst, or the privilege of breathing fresh, pure air, and cramped, day after day, in a space too small to admit ofexercising their weary limbs, with the fear of wasting their lives ina captivity, which could not serve their country, nor gain honor tothemselves. 

"But worse than all was the mortifying consideration that, after theyhad suffered for the love of their country, more than sailors inactive service, they might die in these horrible places, and be laidwith their countrymen on the shores of Long Island, or some equallyexposed spot, without the rites of burial, and their names never beheard of by those who, in future ages, would look back to the roll ofpatriots, who died in defence of liberty, with admiration and respect, while, on the contrary, by dissembling for a time, they might be ableto regain a place in the service so dear to them, and in which theywere ready to endure any hardship or encounter any danger. 

"Of all the prisons, on land or water, for the confinement of theAmericans, during the Revolutionary War, the Old Jersey wasacknowledged to be the worst; such an accumulation of horrors was notto be found in any other one, or perhaps in all collectively. 

"The very name of it struck terror into the sailor's heart, and causedhim to fight more desperately, to avoid being made a captive. Suffering as we did, day after day, with no prospect of relief, ournumbers continually augmenting, * * * can it be thought strange thatthe younger part of the prisoners, to whom confinement seemed worsethan death, should be tempted to enlist into the British service;especially when, by so doing, it was probable that some opportunitywould be offered to desert? We were satisfied that death would soonput an end to our sufferings if we remained prisoners much longer, yetwhen 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. 

"In the midst of our distresses, perplexities, and troubles of thisperiod, we were not a little puzzled to know how to dispose of thevermin that would accumulate upon our persons, notwithstanding all ourattempts at cleanliness. To catch them was a very easy task, but toundertake to deprive each individual captive of life, as rapidly asthey could have been taken, would have been a more herculean task foreach individual daily, than the destruction of 3000 Philistines bySampson of old. To throw them overboard would have been but a smallrelief, as they would probably add to the impurities of the boiler, bybeing deposited in it the first time it was filled up for cooking ourunsavory mess. What then was to be done with them? A generalconsultation was held, and it was determined to deprive them of theirliberty. This being agreed upon, the prisoners immediately went towork, for their comfort and amusement, to make a liberal contributionof those migratory creatures, who were compelled to colonize for atime within the boundaries of a large snuff box appropriated for thepurpose. There they lay, snugly ensconced, of all colors, ages, andsizes, to the amount of some hundreds, waiting for orders. 

"British recruiting officers frequently came on board, and held out tothe prisoners tempting offers to enlist in his Majesty's service; notto fight against their own country, but to perform garrison duty inthe island of Jamaica. 

"One day an Irish officer came on board for this purpose, and notmeeting with much success among the prisoners who happened to be ondeck, he descended below to repeat his offers. He was a remarkablytall man, and was obliged to stoop as he passed along betweendecks. The prisoners were disposed for a frolic, and kept the officerin their company for some time, flattering him with expectations, tillhe discovered their insincerity, and left them in no very pleasanthumor. As he passed along, bending his body and bringing his broadshoulders to nearly a horizontal position, the idea occurred to ourminds to furnish him with some recruits from the colony in the snuffbox. A favorable opportunity presented, the cover of the box wasremoved, and the whole contents discharged upon the red-coated back ofthe officer. Three cheers from the prisoners followed the migration, and the officer ascended to the deck, unconscious of the number andvariety of the recruits he had obtained without the formality of anenlistment. The captain of the ship, suspecting that some joke hadbeen practised, or some mischief perpetrated, from the noise below, met the officer at the head of the gangway, and seeing the vermincrawling up his shoulders, and aiming at his head, with the instinctpeculiar to them, exclaimed, 'Hoot mon! what's the maitter wi' yourback!' * * * By this time many of them in their wanderings, hadtravelled from the rear to the front, and showed themselves, to theastonishment of the officer. He flung off his coat, in a paroxysm ofrage, which was not allayed by three cheers from the prisoners ondeck. Confinement below, with a short allowance, was our punishmentfor this gratification. 

"From some information we had obtained we were in daily expectation ofa visit from the British recruiting officers, and from the summarymethod of their procedure, no one felt safe from the danger of beingforced into their service. Many of the prisoners thought it would bebetter to enlist voluntarily, as it was probable that afterwards theywould be permitted to remain on Long Island, preparatory to theirdeparture to the West Indies, and during that time some opportunitywould be offered for their escape to the Jersey shore. * * * Soonafter we had formed this desperate resolve a recruiting officer cameon board to enlist men for the 88th Regiment to be stationed atKingston, in the island of Jamaica. * * * The recruiting officerpresented his papers for our signature. We hesitated, we stared ateach other, and felt we were about to do a deed of which we wereashamed, and which we might regret. Again we heard the temptingoffers, and again the assurance that we should not be called upon tofight against our government or country, and with the hope that weshould find an opportunity to desert, of which it was our firmintention to avail ourselves when offered, --with such hopes, expectations, and motives, we signed the papers, and became soldiersin his Majesty's service, "How often did we afterwards lament that we had ever lived to see thishour? How often did we regret that we were not in our wretched prisonship again, or buried in the sand at the Wallabout!"

There were twelve of the prisoners who left the Jersey with EbenezerFox. They were at first taken to Long Island and lodged in barns, butso vigilantly were they guarded that they found it impossible toescape. They were all sent to Kingston, and Fox was allowed to resumehis occupation as a barber, much patronized by the officers stationedat that post. He was soon allowed the freedom of the city, andfurnished with a pass to go about it as much as he wished. At last, incompany with four other Americans, he escaped, and after manyadventures the party succeeded in reaching Cuba, by means of a smallsailing boat which they pressed into service for that purpose. FromCuba they took passage in a small vessel for St. Domingo, and droppedanchor at Cape Francois, afterwards called Cape Henri. There theywent on board the American frigate, Flora, of 32 guns, commanded byCaptain Henry Johnson, of Boston. 

The vessel soon sailed for France and took several prizes. It finallywent up the Garonne to Bordeaux, where it remained nine months. In theharbor of Bordeaux were about six hundred vessels bearing the flags ofvarious nations. Here they remained until peace was proclaimed, whenFox procured service on board an American brig lying at Nantes, andset sail for home in April, 1783. 

At length he again reached his mother's house at Roxbury, after anabsence of about three years. His mother, at first, did not recognizehim. 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. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CASE OF CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS

Christopher Hawkins was born in Providence, Rhode Island, in1764. When he was in his thirteenth year he sailed on board anAmerican privateer as a cabin boy. The privateer was a schooner, called the Eagle, commanded by Captain Potter. Taken prisoner by theBritish, Hawkins was sent on board the Asia, an old transport ship, but was soon taken off this vessel, then used for the confinement ofAmerican prisoners, and sent on board a frigate, the Maidstone, toserve as a waiter to the British officers on board. He remained onboard the Maidstone a year. At the end of that time he was allowed agood deal of liberty. He and another boy were sent on shore to NewYork with a message, managed to elude the sentinels, and escaped firstto Long Island, and afterwards returned 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. Hedescribes the condition of the prisoners on their way in a transportto this fearful prison ship. They were so crowded together that theycould scarcely move, yet they all joined in singing a patriotic songevery stanza of which ended with the words:

"For America and all her sons forever will shine!"

They were on board this transport three or four days unable to sit orlie down for want of room. When at last they reached the Jersey theyfound 800 prisoners on board. Many of these poor wretches would becomesick in the night and die before day. Hawkins was obliged to lie downto rest only twenty feet from the gangway, and in the path of theprisoners who would run over him to get on the upper deck. Hedescribes the condition of these men as appalling. 

"Near us, " he writes, "was a guard ship and hospital ship, and alongthe shore a line of sentinels at regular intervals. "

Yet he determined to escape. Many did so; and many were murdered inthe attempt. A mess of six had just met a dreadful fate. One of thembecame terrified and exclaimed as soon as he touched the water, "OLord, I shall be drowned!" The guard turned out, and murdered five ofthe poor wretches. The sixth managed to hide, and held on by theflukes of the anchor with nothing but his nose above water. Early inthe morning he climbed up the anchor over the bow of the ship to theforecastle, and fled below. A boy named Waterman and Hawkinsdetermined to drop through a port-hole, and endeavor to reach LongIsland by swimming. He thus describes the adventure:

"The thunder-storm was opportune to our design, for having previouslyobtained from the cook's room an old axe and crow-bar from the upperdeck for the purpose, we concealed them till an opportunity shouldoffer for their use. We took advantage of the peals of thunder in astorm that came over us in the afternoon to break one of the gun portson the lower deck, which was strongly barred with iron and bolts. * ** When a peal of thunder roared we worked with all our might with theaxe and crow-bar against the bars and bolts. When the peals subsidedwe ceased, without our blows being heard by the British, until anotherpeal commenced. We then went to work again, and so on, until our workwas completed to our liking. The bars and bolts, after we had knockedthem loose, were replaced so as not to draw the attention of ourBritish gentry if they should happen to visit the lower deck beforeour departure. We also hung some old apparel over and around theshattered gunport to conceal any marks. 

"Being thus and otherwise prepared for our escape, the ship wasvisited by our Captain Whipple the next day after we had broken thegun-port. To him we communicated our intention and contemplated meansof escape. He strongly remonstrated against the design. We told him weshould start the ensuing evening. Captain Whipple answered:

"'How do you think of escaping?'

"I answered, 'By swimming to that point, ' at the same time pointing toa place then in our view on Long Island, in a northeasterly directionfrom the prison ship. We must do this to avoid the sentinels who werestationed in the neighborhood of the ship. 

"'What!' said Captain Whipple, 'Do you think of swimming to thatpoint?'

"'Yes, we must, to avoid the sentinels, ' I answered. 

"'Well, ' said Captain Whipple, 'Give it up, It is only throwing yourlives away, for there is not a man on earth who can swim from thisship to that point as cold as the water is now. Why, how far do youthink it is?'

"'Why, ' I answered, 'Waterman and myself have estimated the distanceat a mile and a half. '

"'Yes, ' said he, 'It's all of two and a half miles. You cannotmeasure across as well as I can. So you had better give it up, for Ihave encouragement of getting home next week, and if I do, I will makeit my whole business to get you all exchanged immediately. '

"Altho' Waterman was several years my senior in age, the conversationwas carried on between Captain Whipple and myself for the reason thatCaptain W. Was more acquainted with me than with Waterman, butWaterman was present. " (Captain Whipple was captured five times duringthe Revolution, each time on his own vessel. )

"His advice had great weight on our minds, but did not shake ourpurpose. We had not been on board the Old Jersey more than one hourbefore we began to plot our escape. We had been only three days onboard when we left it forever. We had been on board long enough todiscover the awful scenes which took place daily in this 'floatinghell. '

"Our preparations for leaving were completed by procuring a piece ofrope from an old cable that was stretched under the fo'castle of theship, * * * and wound around the cable to preserve it. We had each ofus packed our wearing apparel in a knapsack for each, made on boardthe Old Jersey. I gave some of my apparel to the two Smiths. I stowedin my knapsack a thick woolen sailor jacket, well lined, a pair ofthick pantaloons, one vest, a pair of heavy silver shoe buckles, twosilk handkerchiefs, four silver dollars, not forgetting a junk bottleof rum, which we had purchased on board at a dear rate. Waterman hadstowed his apparel and other articles in his knapsack. Mine was veryheavy. It was fastened to my back with two very strong garters, passing over my shoulders, and under each arm, and fastened with astring to my breast, bringing my right and left garter in contact nearthe centre. 

"Thus equipt we were ready to commit ourselves to the watery element, and to our graves, as many of our hardy fellow prisonerspredicted. The evening was as good an one as we could desire at thatseason of the year, the weather was mild and hazy, and the nightextremely dark. 

"It was arranged between Waterman and myself that after leaving theship we should be governed in our course by the lights on board theships and the responses of the sentinels on shore, and after arrivingon shore to repair near a dwelling house which we could see from theOld Jersey in the day time, and spend the balance of the night in abarn, but a few rods from the dwelling. 

"Waterman was the first to leave the ship through the broken-opengun-port, and suspended to the rope by his hands, and at the endbehind him (it was held) by several of our fellow prisoners whom wewere leaving behind us, and with whom we affectionately parted withreciprocal good wishes. He succeeded in gaining the water and inleaving the ship without discovery from the British. It had beenagreed, if detection was about to take place, that he should bereceived again into the ship. I had agreed to follow him in one minutein the same manner. I left and followed in half that time, andsucceeded in leaving the ship without giving the least alarm to thosewho had held us in captivity. 

"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 bodyas deep in the water as possible, without stopping my course, until Iwas at such a distance from her that my motions in the water would notcreate attention from those on board. After gaining a suitabledistance from the ship, I hailed Waterman three times. He did notanswer me. * * * I have never seen him since he left the Old Jersey tothis day. His fate and success I have since learned from JamesWaterman, one of his brothers. 

"In the meantime I kept on my course without thinking that anyaccident would befall him, as I knew him to be an excellent swimmer, and no fainthearted or timid fellow. 

"I could take my course very well from the light reflected from thestern lanthorns of the prison, guards, and hospital ships, and alsofrom the responses of the sentinels on shore; in the words, 'All'swell. ' These responses were repeated every half hour on board theguard ship, and by the sentinels. * * * These repetitions served meto keep the time I was employed in reaching the shore;--no objectoccupied my mind during this time so much as my friend Waterman, if Imay except my own success in getting to land in safety. 

"I flattered myself I should find him on shore or at the barn we hadagreed to occupy after we might gain it. After I had been swimmingnearly or quite two hours my knapsack had broken loose from my back, from the wearing off of the garters under my arms, in consequence ofthe friction in swimming. * * * This occurrence did not please memuch. I endeavored to retain my knapsack by putting it under one arm, * * * but soon found that this impeded my progress, and led me from mytrue course. * * * By this time I had become much chilled, andbenumbed from cold, but could swim tolerably well. * * * I hesitatedwhether or not to retain my knapsack longer in my possession, or partfrom it forever, I soon determined on the latter, and sent itadrift. In this balancing state of mind and subsequent decision I wascool and self collected as perhaps at any time in my life. * * * I nowsoon found I was close in with the shore. * * * I swam within twelvefeet of the shore before I could touch bottom, and in so doing I foundI could not stand, I was so cold * * * but I moved around in shoalwater until I found I could stand, then stept on shore. * * * I hadnot sent my clothes adrift more than twenty-five minutes or so beforestriking the shore. I was completely naked except for a small hat onmy head which I had brought from the Old Jersey. What a situation wasthis, without covering to hide my naked body, in an enemy's country, without food or means to obtain any, and among Tories more unrelentingthan the devil, --more perils to encounter and nothing to aid me butthe interposition of heaven! Yet I had gained an important portion ofmy enterprise: I had got on land, after swimming in the water twohours and a half, and a distance of perhaps two miles and a half. "

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 hisnaked body severely. Next morning a black girl came into the barn, apparently hunting for eggs, but he did not dare reveal himself toher. He remained there all day, and endeavored to milk the cows, butthey were afraid of a naked stranger. He left the place in the nightand travelled east. In a field he found some overripe water melons, but they were neither wholesome nor palatable. After wandering a longtime in the rain he came to another barn, and in it he slept soundlyuntil late the next day. Nearly famished he again wandered on andfound in an orchard a few half rotten pears. Near by was a potatopatch which he entered hoping to get some of them. Here a young woman, who had been stooping down digging potatoes, started up. "I was, ofcourse, " he continues, "naked, my head excepted. She was, or appearedto be, excessively frightened, and ran towards a house, screeching andscreaming at every step. " Hawkins ran in the other direction, and gotsafely away. At last the poor boy found another barn, and lay, thatnight, upon a heap of flax. After sunrise next morning he concluded togo 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 thesepeople then in sight. I was, by this time, almost worn out withhunger. I slowly approached two tall young men who were gatheringgarden sauce. They soon discovered me and appeared astonished at myappearance, and began to draw away from me, but I spoke to them in thefollowing words:--'Don't be afraid of me: I am a human being!' Theythen made a halt and inquired of me, 'Are you scared?' 'No, ' saidI. They then advanced slowly towards me, and inquired, 'How came youhere naked?'

"I seated myself on the ground and told them the truth. "

One of the young men told him to conceal himself from the sight of theneighbors, and he would go and consult with his mother what had bestbe done. He soon returned, bringing two large pieces of bread andbutter and a decent pair of pantaloons. He then told him to go to theside of the barn and wait there for his mother, but not to allowhimself to be seen. The boys' mother came out to speak to him with ashirt on her arm. As he incautiously moved around the side of the barnto meet her, she exclaimed, "For God's sake don't let that black womansee you!" A slave was washing clothes near the back door of the farmhouse. The poor woman explained to Hawkins that this negress wouldbetray him, "For she is as big a devil as any of the king's folks, andshe will bring me out, and then we should all be put in the provostand die there, for my husband was put there more than two years ago, and rotted and died there not more than two weeks since. "

The poor woman wept as she told her story, and the escaped prisonerwept with her. This woman and her two sons were Dutch, and their housewas only nine miles from Brooklyn ferry. She now directed the boy to ahouse at Oyster Bay where she said there was a man who would assisthim to escape. 

After running many risks he found the house at last, but the woman whoanswered his knock told him that her husband was away and when heexplained who he was she became very angry, and said that it was herduty to give him up. So he ran away from her, and at last fell intothe hands of a party of British, who recaptured him, and declared thatthey would send him immediately back to the prison ship. They werequartered in a house near Oyster Bay, and here they locked him in aroom, and he was told to lie down on some straw to sleep, as it wasnow night. In the night the fleas troubled him so much that he wasvery restless. A sentinel had been placed to guard him, and when thiswretch heard him moving in the dark he exclaimed, "Lie still, G--d---you, " and pricked him several times with his bayonet, so that the poorboy felt the fresh blood running down his body. He begged the sentinelto spare his life, declaring that it was hard he should be killedmerely because the fleas had made him restless. He now did not dare tomove, and was obliged to endure the attacks the fleas and thestiffness of his wounds in perfect silence until the sentinel wasrelieved. The next sentinel was kind and humane and seemed tocompassionate his sufferings. He said that some men were naturalbrutes, and seemed to take an interest in the boy, but could do littlefor him. At daylight he was sent to the quarters of a Tory colonel amile from the guard room. The colonel was a tall man of fineappearance, who examined him, and then said he must be sent back tothe Jersey. The poor lad was now left in an unlocked room on theground floor of the colonel's house. He was given his breakfast, and amulatto man was set to guard him. Now there was a pantry opening intothis room, and a negro girl, who appeared very friendly with themulatto, called him to eat his breakfast in this pantry. The mulatto, while eating, would look out every few minutes. Just after one ofthese inspections the boy got up softly, with his shoes in his hands, stepped across the room, out at the back door, and concealed himselfin a patch of standing hemp. From thence he made his way into anorchard, and out into a wood lot. Here he hid himself and remainedquiet for several hours, and although he heard several persons talkingnear him, he was not pursued. At last he stole out, walked about sixmiles, and at night fall entered a barn and slept there. He was inrather better case than before his recapture, for a doctor belongingto the British service had taken pity on him the night before, and hadfurnished him with warm clothes, shoes, and a little money. 

Next morning a woman who lived in a small house near the road gave himsome bread and milk. The time of the year was autumn, it was a day ortwo before Cornwallis's surrender at Yorktown. He now very fortunatelymet an acquaintance named Captain Daniel Havens. He was an uncle of aboy named John Sawyer, with whom young Hawkins had run away from NewYork some years before. Through the agency of this old friend Hawkinsgot on board a smuggler in the night and finally reached home insafety. 

Christopher Hawkins's account of the Old Jersey is not so reliable asthat of some others who were among her inmates. He was only on boardthat vessel three days, but in that time he saw enough to decide himto risk death in the attempt to escape rather than remain any longeron board of her. He declares that: "The cruel and unjustifiabletreatment of the prisoners by the British soon produced the mostdemoralizing effects upon them. Boxing was tolerated withoutstint.... After I left the ship an American vessel came into the portof New York as a cartel for the exchange of prisoners.... A ship'smate was so fortunate as to be one of the exchanged. He had a largechest on board, and, as privately as he could, he put the cabin boyinto the chest, locked him in, and carried him on board the cartel. Aprisoner named Spicer had seen the boy put into the chest, and afterhe had been conveyed on board the cartel, Spicer communicated theaffair to the commanding officer on board the Jersey. The cartel wasimmediately boarded, as she had not yet left the port, and the boy wasfound and brought back. Spicer paid for his treachery with hislife. The prisoners knocked him down the hatchway, when they weregoing 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 ortwo. "

This event occured after he left the ship, according to his ownnarrative. The same story is told in a different way by an eye witnessof undoubted veracity. He says that the prisoners were so incensedagainst Spicer that they determined to kill him. For this purpose someof them held him, while another was about to cut his throat, when theguards, hearing the uproar, rushed down the hatchway, and rescued him. 

Hawkins also says: "I one day observed a prisoner on the forecastle ofthe ship, with his shirt in his hands, having stripped it from hisbody, deliberately picking the vermin from the pleats and putting themin his mouth. * * * I stepped very near the man and commenced aconversation with him. He said he had been on board two years and ahalf, or eighteen months. He had completely lost count of time, was askeleton and nearly naked. This was only one case from perhaps ahundred similar. This man appeared in tolerable health as to body, his emaciation excepted. * * * The discipline of the prisoners by theBritish was in many respects of the most shocking and appallingcharacter. The roll of the prisoners, as I was informed, was calledevery three months, unless a large acquisiton of prisoners shouldrender it necessary more often. The next day after our crew were puton board the roll was called, and the police regulations of the shipwere read. I heard this. One of the new regulations was to the effectthat every captive trying to get away should suffer instant death, andshould not even be taken on board alive. "

It appears that David Laird commanded the Old Jersey from 1778 untilearly in the year 1781. He was then relieved of the command, and thisoffice was given to a man named John Sporne, or Spohn, until the 9thof April, 1783, when all the prisoners remaining in her were released, and she was abandoned. The dread of contagion kept visitors aloof. Shewas still moored in the mud of the Wallabout by chain cables, andgradually sank lower and lower. There is a beam of her preserved as acuriosity at the Naval Museum at Brooklyn. 

David Laird, the Scotchman who commanded her until the early part of1781, returned to New York after the peace of 1783 as captain of amerchant ship, and moored his vessel at or near Peck's Slip. A numberof persons who had been prisoners on board the Jersey, and hadsuffered by his cruelty, assembled on the wharf to receive him, but hedeemed it prudent to remain on ship-board during the short time hisvessel was there. 

It is in the recollections of Ebenezer Fox that we have the onlymention ever made of a woman on board that dreadful place, the OldJersey, and although she may have been and probably was an abandonedcharacter, yet she seems to have been merciful, and unwilling to seethe prisoners who were attempting to escape, butchered before hereyes. It is indeed to be hoped that no other woman ever set foot inthat terrible place to suffer with the prisoners, and yet there are afew women's names in the list of these wretched creatures given in theappendix to this book. It is most likely, however, that these weremen, and that their feminine appellations were 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 theprovisions dealt out to the prisoners on board the prison ships shallnow be given. 

"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 abiscuit. As for the pork, we were cheated out of it more than half thetime, and when it was obtained one would have judged from its motleyhues, exhibiting the consistence and appearance of variegated soap, that it was the flesh of the porpoise or sea hog, and had been aninhabitant of the ocean, rather than a sty. * * * The flavor was sounsavory that it would have been rejected as unfit for the stuffing ofeven Bologna sausages. The provisions were generally damaged, and fromthe imperfect manner in which they were cooked were about asindigestible as grape shot. The flour and oatmeal was often sour, andwhen the suet was mixed with the flour it might be nosed half thelength of the ship. The first view of the beef would excite an idea ofveneration for its antiquity, * * * its color was a dark mahagony, andits solidity would have set the keenest edge of a broad axe atdefiance to cut across the grain, though like oakum it could be pulledto pieces, one way, in strings, like rope yarn. * * * It was socompletely saturated with salt that after having been boiled in watertaken from the sea, it was found to be considerably freshened by theprocess. * * * Such was our food, but the quality was not all of whichwe had to complain. * * * The cooking was done in a great coppervessel. * * * The Jersey, from her size, and lying near the shore, wasembedded in the mud, and I don't recollect seeing her afloat the wholetime I was a prisoner. All the filth that accumulated among upwards ofa thousand men was daily thrown overboard, and would remain thereuntil carried away by the tide. The impurity of the water may beeasily conceived, and in that water our meat was boiled. It will berecollected, too, that the water was salt, which caused the inside ofthe copper to be corroded to such a degree that it was lined with acoat of verdigris. Meat thus cooked must, in some degree, be poisoned, and the effects of it were manifest in the cadaverous countenances ofthe emaciated beings who had remained on board for any length of time. 

"* * * We passed the night amid the accumulated horrors of sighs andgroans; of foul vapor; a nauseous and putrid atmosphere, in a stiflingand almost suffocating heat. * * * Little sleep could be enjoyed, forthe vermin were so horribly abundant that all the personal cleanlinesswe could practice would not protect us from their attacks. "

The public papers of the day often contained accounts of the crueltiespracticed upon the prisoners on the ships. In the _PennsylvaniaPacket_ of Sept. 4th, 1781, there is an extract from a letterwritten by a prisoner whose name is not given. 

"EXTRACT FROM A LETTER DATED ON BOARD THE JERSEY (VULGARLY CALLEDHELL) PRISON SHIP

"New York August 10th 1781

"There is nothing but death or entering into the British servicebefore me. Our ship's company is reduced by death and entering intothe British service to the small number of 19. * * * I am not able togive you even the outlines of my exile; but this much I will informyou, that we bury 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 in a day. We have 200 moresick and falling sick every day; the sickness is the yellow fever, small pox, and in short everything else that can be mentioned. "

"New London. Conn. March 3rd. 1782. Sunday last a flag ship returnedfrom New York which brought twenty Americans who had been a long timeon board a prison ship. About 1, 000 of our countrymen remain in theprison ships at New York, great part of whom have been in closeconfinement for more than six months, and in the most deplorablecondition: many of them seeing no prospect of release are enteringinto the British service to elude the contagion with which the shipsare fraught. "

EXTRACT OF A LETTER WRITTEN ON BOARD THE PRISON SHIP JERSEY, APRIL26TH, 1782. 

"I am sorry to write you from this miserable place. I can assure youthat 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 theHospital ships, who died like sheep; therefore my intention is, ifpossible, to enter on board some merchant or transport vessel, as itis impossible for so many men to keep alive in one vessel. "

"Providence. May 25th 1782. Sunday last a flag of truce returned herefrom New York and brought a few prisoners. We learn that 1100Americans were on board the prison and hospital ships at New York, when the flag sailed from thence, and that from six to seven weregenerally buried every day. "

"Salem. Mass. Extract from a letter of an officer on board theJersey. --'The deplorable situation I am in cannot be expressed. Thecaptains, lieutenants, and sailing masters have gone to the Provost, but they have only gotten out of the frying pan into the fire. I amleft here with about 700 miserable objects, eaten up by lice, anddaily taking fevers, which carry them off fast. Nov 9th 1782. "

By repeated acts of cruelty on the part of the British the Americanswere, at last, stung to attempt something like retaliation. In 1782 aprison ship, given that name, was fitted up and stationed in theThames near New London, as we learn from the following extract:

"New London, Conn. May 24th 1782. Last Saturday the Retaliation prisonship was safely moored in the river Thames, about a mile from theferry, for the receipt of such British prisoners as may fall into ourhands, since which about 100 prisoners have been put on board. "

It is said that this ship was in use but a short time, and we havebeen unable to learn anything further of her history. 

Thomas Philbrook, who was a prisoner on board the Jersey for severalmonths was one of the "working-party, " whose duty it was to scrub thedecks, attend to the sick, and bring up the dead. He says: "As themorning dawned there would be heard the loud, unfeeling, and horridcry, 'Rebels! Bring up your dead!'

"Staggering under the weight of some stark, still form, I would atlength gain the upper deck, when I would be met with the salutation:'What! _you alive yet?_ Well, you are a tough one!'"

CHAPTER XXX

RECOLLECTIONS OF ANDREW SHERBURNE

Andrew Sherburne, a lad of seventeen, shipped on the Scorpion, CaptainR. Salter, a small vessel, with a crew of eighteen men. This vesselwas captured by the Amphion, about the middle of November, 1782. Sherburne says that the sailors plundered them of everythingthey possessed, and that thirteen of them were put on board theAmphion, and sent down to the cable tiers between the two decks, wherethey found nearly a hundred of their countrymen, who were prisoners ofwar. 

"We were very much crowded, and having nothing but the cables to layon, our beds were as hard and unpleasant as though they were made ofcord wood, and indeed we had not sufficient room for each to stretchhimself at the same time. 

"After about two weeks we arrived at New York, and were put on boardthat wretched ship the Jersey. The New York prison ships had been theterror of American tars for years. The Old Jersey had become notoriousin consequence of the unparallelled mortality on board her. * * *

"I entered the Jersey towards the last of November, I had just enteredthe eighteenth year of my age, and had now to commence a scene ofsuffering almost without a parallel. * * * A large proportion of theprisoners had been robbed of their clothing. * * * Early in thewinter the British took the Chesapeake frigate of about thirty guns, and 300 hands. All were sent on board the Jersey, which so overcrowdedher, that she was very sickly. This crew died exceedingly fast, for alarge proportion were fresh hands, unused to the sea. "

Sherburne says that boats from the city brought provisions to sell tosuch of the prisoners as were so fortunate as to be possessed ofmoney, and that most of them were able to make purchases from them. Apiece of sausage from 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 conditionswere wretchedly unsanitary. He was placed in a bunk with a man namedWills from Massachusetts, a very gentle and patient sufferer, who soondied. 

"I have seen seven men drawn out and piled together on the lowerhatchway, who had died in one night on board the Frederick. 

"There were ten or twelve nurses, and about a hundred sick. Some, ifnot all of the nurses, were prisoners. * * * They would indulge inplaying cards and drinking, while their fellows were thirsting forwater and some dying. At night the hatches were shut down and locked, and the nurses lived in the steerage, and there was not the leastattention paid to the sick except by the convalescent, who were sofrequently called upon that, in many cases, they overdid 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 tokeep them from freezing. * * * In consequence of these chills I havebeen obliged to wear a laced stocking upon my left leg for nearlythirty years past. My bunk was directly against the ballast-port; andthe port not being caulked, when there came a snow-storm the snowwould blow through the seams in my bed, but in those cases there wasone advantage to me, when I could not otherwise procure water toquench my thirst. The provision allowed the sick was a gill of wine, and twelve ounces of bread per day. The wine was of an ordinaryquality, and the bread made of sour or musty flour, and sometimespoorly baked. There was a small sheet iron stove between decks, butthe fuel was green, and not plenty, and there were some peevish andsurly fellows generally about it. I never got an opportunity to sit byit, but I could generally get the favor of some one near it to lay aslice of bread upon it, to warm or toast it a little, to put into mywine and water. We sometimes failed in getting our wine for severaldays together; we had the promise of its being made up to us, but thispromise was seldom performed. * * * Water was brought on board incasks by the working party, and when it was very cold it would freezein the casks, and it would be difficult to get it out. * * * I wasfrequently under the necessity of pleading hard to get my cupfilled. I could not eat my bread, but gave it to those who brought mewater. I have given three days allowance to have a tin cup of waterbrought me. * * * A company of the good citizens of New York suppliedall the sick with a pint of good Bohea tea, well sweetened withmolasses a day; and this was constant. I believe this tea saved mylife, and the lives of hundreds of others. * * * The physicians usedto visit the sick once in several days: their stay was short, nor didthey administer much medicine. Were I able to give a full descriptionof our wretched and filthy condition I should almost question whetherit would be credited. * * * It was God's good pleasure to raise me uponce more so that I could just make out to walk, and I was againreturned to the Jersey prison ship. "

Here he received sad news. One of his uncles was a prisoner on boardthe Jersey, and had been very kind to him, giving him a share of hismoney with which to purchase necessaries. Now he found his uncle aboutto take his place in the hospital ship. A boy named Stephen Nicholsalso informed him of the death in his absence of the gunner of theirship, whose name was Daniel Davis. This poor man had his feet and legsfrozen, from which he died. 

"Nichols and myself were quite attached to each other. * * * Westalked about the decks together, lamenting our forlorn condition. Ina few days there came orders to remove all the prisoners from theJersey in order to cleanse the ship. We were removed on board oftransports, and directly there came on a heavy storm. The ship onwhich I was was exceedingly crowded, so that there was not room enoughfor each man to lay down under deck, and the passing and repassing byday had made the lower deck entirely wet. Our condition wasdistressing. After a few days we were all put on board the Jerseyagain. A large number had taken violent colds, myself among therest. The hospital ships were soon crowded, and even the Jerseyherself shortly became about as much of a hospital ship as theothers. "

Sherburne was again sent to a hospital ship, where he was rejoiced tofind 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 feetfell off. 

Two brothers shared a bunk near him. Their names were John and AbrahamFalls. John was twenty-three, and Abraham only sixteen. Both were verysick. One night Abraham was heard imploring John not to lie on him, and the other invalids reproached him for his cruelty in thus treatinghis young brother. But John was deaf to their reproaches, for he wasdead. Abraham was too ill to move from under him. Next day the deadbrother was removed from the living one, but it was too late to savehim, and the poor boy died that morning. 

Sherburne says that only five of his crew of thirteen survived, andthat in many instances a much larger proportion died. 

"At length came news of peace. It was exceedingly trying to ourfeelings to see our ship mates daily leaving us, until our ship wasalmost deserted. We were, however, convalescent, but we gainedexceedingly slowly. * * * I think there were but seven or eight lefton board the hospital ship when we left it, in a small schooner sentfrom R. I. , for the purpose of taking home some who belonged to thatplace, and the commander of the hospital ship had the humanity to usehis influence with the master of the cartel to take us on board, andto our unspeakable joy he consented. "

When at last he reached home he says: "My brother Sam took me intoanother room to divest me of my filthy garments and to wash and dressme. He having taken off my clothes and seen my bones projecting hereand there, was so astonished that his strength left him. He sat downon the point of fainting, and could render me no further service. Iwas able to wash myself and put on my clothes. "

After this he was obliged to spend twenty days in bed. PoorMrs. Falls, the mother of the two young men who had died on thehospital ship, called on him and heard the fate of her sons. She wasin an agony, and almost fainted, and kept asking if it was not amistake 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 ofhis father's captivity, which we will condense in these pages. He saysthat his father was born in Stonington, Conn. , in August, 1764, andwas about seventeen at the time of his capture by the British, whichmust 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 anassistant in the Commissary Department, and when the brig Pilgrim, ofStonington, was commissioned to make war on the public enemy, therejected volunteer was warmly welcomed on board by his kinsman, Captain Humphrey Crary. 

The first night after putting to sea, the Pilgrim encountered aBritish fleet just entering the Vineyard Sound. A chase and runningfight of several hours ensued, but at length the vessel was crippledand compelled to surrender. The prize was taken into Holmes' Hole, andthe crew subsequently brought to New York. Mr. Henry Palmer thusdescribes the Jersey, which was his father's destination. 

"The Jersey never left her anchorage at the Wallabout, whether fromdecrepitude, or the intolerable burden of woes and wrongs accumulatedin her wretched hulk, --but sank slowly down at last into the subjacentooze, as if to hide her shame from human sight, and more than fortyyears after my father pointed out to me at low tide huge remnants ofher unburied skeleton. 

"On board of this dread Bastile were crowded year after year, some1, 400 prisoners, mostly Americans. The discipline was very strict, while the smallest possible attention was paid by their warders to thesufferings of the captives. Cleanliness was simply an impossibility, where the quarters were so narrow, the occupants so numerous, andlittle opportunity afforded for washing the person or the tatters thatsought to hide its nakedness. Fortunate was the wretch who possessed aclean linen rag, for this, placed in his bosom, seemed to attract toit crowds of his crawling tormentors, whose squatter sovereignty couldbe disposed of by the wholesale at his pleasure. 

"The food of the prisoners consisted mainly of spoiled sea biscuit, and of navy beef, which had become worthless from long voyaging inmany climes years before. These biscuits were so worm-eaten that aslight pressure of the hand reduced them to dust, which rose up inlittle clouds of insubstantial aliment, as if in mockery of the halffamished expectants. For variety a ration called 'Burgoo, ' wasprepared several times a week, consisting of mouldy oatmeal and water, boiled in two great Coppers, and served out in tubs, like swill toswine. 

"By degrees they grew callous to each other's miseries, and alert toseize any advantage over their fellow sufferers. Many played cards dayand night, regardless of the scenes of woe and despair around them. ** * The remains (of those who died) were huddled into blankets, and soslightly interred on the neighboring slope that scores of them, baredby the rains, were always visible to their less fortunate comradesleft to pine in hopeless captivity. * * * After having been imprisonedabout a year and a half my father, one night, during a paroxysm offever, rushed on board, and jumped overboard. 

"The shock restored him to consciousness, he was soon rescued, and thenext morning was taken by the Surgeon-General's orders to his quartersin Cherry St. , near Pearl, where he remained until the close of thewar. The kind doctor had taken a fancy to the handsome Yankee patient, whom he treated with fatherly kindness; giving him books to read; andhaving him present at his operations and dissections; and finallyurged him to seek his fortune in Europe, where he should receive agood surgical education free of charge. 

"The temptation was very great, but the rememberance of a nearer homeand dearer friends, unseen for years, was greater, and to them thelong lost returned at last, as one from the dead. "

Captain Palmer commanded a merchant ship after the war, retired andbought a farm near Stockbridge, Mass. He followed the sea over fortyyears. In appearance he was very tall, erect, robust, and of rarephysical power and endurance. He had remarkably small hands and feet, a high and fair forehead, his hair was very black, a tangle ofluxuriant curls, and his eyes were clear hazel. He died in his 79thyear, in 1844, leaving a large family of children. In his ownmemoranda he writes: "Four or five hundred Frenchmen were transferredas prisoners to the orlop deck of the Jersey. They were much bettertreated than we Americans on the deck above them. All, however, suffered very much for the want of water, crowding around two halfhogsheads when they were brought on board, and often fighting for thefirst drink. On one of these occasions a Virginian near me was elbowedby 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 waterfrom the hold, for the prisoners' drink. This water had probably beenthere for years, and was as ropy as molasses. 

"There was a deal of trouble between the American and the French andSpanish 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 Frenchand Spanish prisoners at the head, and let them all down by the run onthe dirty floor. In the midst of the row that followed this deed ofdarkness, the Americans stole back to their quarters, and were allfast asleep when the English guard came down. 

"No lights were permitted after ten o'clock. We used, however, to hideour candles occasionally under our hats, when the order came to 'Dousethe glim!' One night the officer of the guard discovered ourdisobedience, and came storming down the hatchway with a file ofsoldiers. Our lights were all extinguished in a moment, and we on thealert for our tyrants, whom we seized with a will, and hustled to andfro in the darkness, till their cries aroused the whole ship. "

An uncle of Roswell Palmer's named Eliakim Palmer, a man named ThomasHitchcock, and John Searles were prisoners on board the Scorpion, aBritish 74, anchored off the Battery, New York. They were about to betransferred to the Old Jersey, when Hitchcock went into the chains anddropped his hat into the water. On his return he begged for a boat torecover it, and being earnestly seconded by Lieutenant Palmer, theofficer of the deck finally consented, ordering a guard to accompanythe "damned rebels. " They were a long time in getting the boatoff. The hat, in the mean time, floated away from the ship. They rowedvery awkardly, of course got jeered at uproariously for "Yankee landlubbers, " and were presently ordered to return. Being then nearly outof musket range, Lieutenant Palmer suddenly seized and disarmed theastonished guard, while his comrades were not slow in manifestingtheir latent adroitness in the use of the oar, to the no lessastonishment of their deriders. In a moment the Bay was alive withexcitement; many shots, big and little, were fired at the audaciousfugitives from all the fleet; boats put off in hot pursuit; but theStonington boys reached the Jersey shore in safety, and escaped withtheir prisoner to Washington's headquarters, where the tact andbravery they had displayed received the approval of the greatcommander. 

Lieutenant Eliakim Palmer was again taken prisoner later in the warand again escaped. This time he was on board the Jersey. He cut awaythree iron bars let into an aperture on the side of the ship on theorlop deck, formerly a part of her hold. He swam ashore with his shirtand trousers tied to his head. Having lost his trousers he wasobliged to make his way down Long Island for nearly its whole length, in his shirt only. He hid in ditches during the day, subsisting onberries, and the bounty of cows, milked directly into his mouth. Hecrawled by the sentries stationed at different parts of the island, and at length, after many days, reached Oyster Pond Point, whence hewas smuggled by friends 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 theUnparallelled Cruelty of the British to the American Captives at NewYork During the Revolutionary War, on Board their Prison and Hospitalships. By Captain Alexander Coffin, Junior, One of the SurvivingSufferers. In a Communication to Dr. Mitchell, dated September 4th, 1807. "

Truly our ancestors were long-winded! A part of this narrative is asfollows: "I shall furnish you with an account of the treatment that I, with other of my fellow citizens, received on board the Jersey andJohn prison ships, those monuments of British barbarity and infamy. Ishall give you nothing but a plain simple statement of facts thatcannot be controverted. And I begin my narrative from the time of myleaving the South Carolina frigate. 

"In June, 1782, I left the above-mentioned frigate in the Havana, onboard of which I had long served as a mid-ship-man, and made severaltrading voyages. I sailed early in September, from Baltimore, for theHavana, 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. 

"Though our commander, Captain Hughes, was a very gentlemanly man, hewas treated in the most shameful and abusive manner by said Hawkins, and ordered below to mess with the petty officers. Our officers wereput into the cable tier, with the crew, and a guard placed at thehatchway to prevent more than two going on deck at a time. Theprovisions were of the very worst kind, and very short allowance evenof them. They frequently gave us pea-soup, that is pea-water, for thepease and the soup, all but about a gallon or two, were taken for theship's company, and the coppers filled up with water, and brought downto us in a strap-tub. And Sir, I might have defied any person onearth, possessing the most acute olfactory powers and the most refinedtaste to decide, either by one or the other or both of these senses, whether it was pease and water, slush and water, or swill. 

"After living and being treated in this way, subject to every insultand abuse for ten or twelve days, we fell in with the Champion, aBritish twenty gun ship, which was bound to New York to refit, andwere all sent on board of her The Captain was a true seaman and agentleman, and our treatment was so different from what we hadexperienced on board the Ceres, that it was like being removed fromPurgatory to Paradise. His name, I think, was Edwards. 

"We arrived about the beginning of October in New York and wereimmediately sent on board the prison-ship in a small schooner, called, ironically enough, the Relief, commanded by one Gardner, an Irishman. 

"This schooner Relief plied between the prison ship and New York, andcarried the water and provisions from that city to the ship. In factthe said schooner might emphatically be called the Relief, for theexecrable water and provisions she carried relieved many of my bravebut unfortunate countrymen by death, from the misery and savagetreatment they daily endured. 

"Before I go on to relate the treatment we experienced on board theJersey, I will make one remark, and that is if you were to rake theinfernal regions, I doubt whether you could find such another set ofdemons as the officers and men who had charge of the Old JerseyPrison-ship, and, Sir, I shall not be surprised if you, possessing thefiner feelings which I believe to be interwoven in the composition ofmen, and which are not totally torn from the _piece_, till by along and obstinate perseverance in the meanest, the basest, andcruellest of all human acts, a man becomes lost to every sense ofhonor, of justice, of humanity, and common honesty; I shall not besurprised, I say, if you, possessing these finer feelings, shoulddoubt whether men could be so lost to their sacred obligations totheir God; and the moral ties which ought to bind them to their dutytoward their fellow men, as those men were, who had the charge, andalso who had any agency in the affairs of the Jersey prison-ship. 

"On my arrival on board the Old Jersey, I found there about 1, 100prisoners; many of them had been there from three to six months, butfew lived over that time if they did not get away by some means orother. They were generally in the most deplorable situation, merewalking skeletons, without money, and scarcely clothes to cover theirnakedness, and overrun with lice from head to feet. 

"The provisions, Sir, that were served out to us, was not more thanfour or five ounces of meat, and about as much bread, all condemnedprovisions from the ships of war, which, no doubt, were supplied withnew in their stead, and the new, in all probability, charged by thecommissaries to the Jersey. They, however, know best about that; andhowever secure they may now feel, they will have to render an accountof that business to a Judge who cannot be deceived. This fact, however, I can safely aver, that both the times I was confined onboard the prison ships, there never were provisions served out to theprisoners that would have been eatable by men that were not literallyin a starving situation. 

"The water that we were forced to use was carried from the city, and Ipostively assert that I never after having followed the sea thirtyyears, had on board of any ship, (and I have been three years on someof my voyages, ) water so bad as that we were obliged to use on boardthe Old Jersey; when there was, as it were to tantalize us, as purewater, not more than three cables length from us, at the Mill in theWallabout, as was perhaps ever drank. 

"There were hogs kept in pens on the Gun-deck for their own use; and Ihave seen the prisoners watch an opportunity, and with a tin pot stealthe bran from the hogs' trough, and go into the Galley and when theycould 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 thanonce, and there are now living besides me, who can bear testimony tothe same fact. There are many other facts equally abominable that Icould mention, but the very thought of those things brings to myrecollection scenes the most distressing. 

"When I reflect how many hundreds of my brave and intrepid countrymenI have seen, in all the bloom of health, brought on board of thatship, and in a few days numbered with the dead, in consequence of thesavage treatment they there received, I can but adore my Creator thatHe suffered me to escape; but I did not escape, Sir, without beingbrought to the very verge of the grave. 

"This was the second time I was on board, which I shall mention moreparticularly hereafter. Those of us who had money fared much betterthan those who had none. I had made out to save, when taken, abouttwenty dollars, and with that I could buy from the bumboats, that werepermitted to come alongside, bread, fruit, etc. ; but, Sir, thebumboatmen were of the same kidney as the officers of the Jersey andwe got nothing from them without paying through the nose for it, and Isoon found the bottom of my purse; after which I fared no better thanthe rest. I was, however, fortunate in one respect; for after havingbeen there about six weeks, two of my countrymen, (I am a Nantucketman) happened to come to New York to endeavor to recover a whalingsloop that had been captured, with a whaling license from AdmiralDigby; and they found means to procure my release, passing me for aQuaker, to which I confess I had no pretensions further than my motherbeing a member of that respectable society. Thus, Sir, I returned tomy friends, fit for the newest fashion, after an absence of threeyears. 

"For my whole wardrobe I carried on my back, which consisted of ajacket, 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 myhat the day we were taken, from the maintop-gallant yard, furling thetop-gallant sail. 

"My clothing, I forgot to mention, was completed laced with locomotivetinsel, and moved as by instinct, in all directions; but as my motherwas not fond of such company, she furnished me with a suit of myfather's, who was absent at sea, and condemned my laced suit for thebenefit of all concerned. 

"Being then in the prime of youth, about eighteen years of age, andnaturally of a roving disposition; I could not bear the idea of beingidle at home. I therefore proceeded to Providence, R. I. , and shippedon board the brig Betsy and Polly, Captain Robert Folger, bound forVirginia and Amsterdam. We sailed from Newport early in February, 1783; and were taken five days after, off the capes of Virginia, bythe Fair American privateer, of those parts, mounting sixteensix-pounders, and having 85 men, commanded by one Burton, a refugee, most of whose officers were of the same stamp. We were immediatelyhandcuffed two and two, and ordered into the hold in thecable-tier. Having been plundered of our beds and bedding, the softestbed we had was the soft side of a water cask, and the coils of acable. 

"The Fair American, after having been handsomely dressed by an UnitedStates vessel of half of her force, was obliged to put into New York, then in possession of the British army, to refit, and we arrivedwithin the Hook about the beginning of March, and were put on board apilot boat, and brought up to this city. The boat hauled up alongsidethe Crane-wharf, where we had our irons knocked off, the mark of whichI 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 tothe prison-ship. 

"It was just three months from my leaving the Old Jersey to my beingagain a prisoner on board of her, and on my return I found but veryfew of the men I had left three months before. Some had made theirescape; some had been exchanged; but the greater part had taken uptheir abode under the surface of the hill, which you can see from yourwindows, where their bones are mouldering to dust, mingled with motherearth; a lesson to Americans, written _in capitals, on Britishcruelty and injustice_. 

"I found, on my return on board the Jersey, more prisoners than when Ileft her; and she being so crowded, they were obliged to send about200 of us on board 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 anold, condemned 64 gun ship had two tiers of ports fore and aft, air-ports, and large hatchways, which gave a pretty free circulationof air through the ship; whereas the John, being a merchant-ship, andwith small hatchways, and the hatchways being laid down every night, and no man being allowed to go on deck * * * the effluvia arising fromthese, together with the already contaminated air, occasioned by thebreath of so many people so pent up together, was enough to destroymen of the most healthy and robust constitutions. All the time I wason 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 outof the barrel. * * * In the middle of the ship, between decks, wasraised a platform of boards about two and a half feet high, for thoseprisoners to sleep on who had no hammocks. On this they usedfrequently to sit and play at cards to pass the time. One night inparticular, several of us sat to see them play until about teno'clock, and then retired to our hammocks. About one A. M, we werecalled and told that one Bird was dying; we turned out and went towhere he lay, and found him just expiring. Thus, at 10 P. M, the youngman was apparently as well as any of us, and at one A. M. Had paid thedebt to nature. Many others went off in the same way. It will perhapsbe said that men die suddenly anywhere. True, but do they die suddenlyanywhere from the same cause? After all these things it is, I think, impossible for the mind to form any other conclusion than that therewas a premeditated design to destroy as many Americans as they couldon board the prison-ships; the treatment of the prisoners warrants theconclusion; but it is mean, base, and cowardly, to endeavor to conqueran enemy by such infamous means, and truly characteristic of base andcowardly wretches. The truly brave will always treat their prisonerswell. 

"There were two or three hospital-ships near the prison-ships; and sosoon as any of the prisoners complained of being sick, they were senton board of one of them; and I verily believe that not one out of ahundred ever returned or recovered. I am sure I never knew but one torecover. Almost, and in fact I believe I may say every morning, alarge boat from each of the hospital ships went loaded with deadbodies, which were all tumbled together into a hole dug for thepurpose, on the hill where the national navy-yard now is. 

"A singular affair happened on board of one of the hospital-ships, andno less true than singular. All the prisoners that died after the boatwith the load had gone ashore were sewed up in hammocks, and left ondeck till next morning. As usual, a great number had thus beendisposed of. In the morning, while employed in loading the boat, oneof the seamen perceived motion in one of the hammocks, just as theywere about launching it down the board placel for that purpose fromthe 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 Ibelieve I have, there was quite a dispute between the man and theothers about it. They swore he was dead enough, and should go into theboat; he swore he should not be launched, as they termed it, and tookhis knife and ripped open the hammock, and behold, the man was reallyalive. There had been a heavy rain during the night; and as the vitalfunctions had not totally ceased, but were merely suspended inconsequence of the main-spring being out of order, this seasonablemoistening must have given tone and elasticity to the great spring, which must have communicated to the lesser ones, and put the wholemachinery again into motion. You know better about this than I do, andcan better judge of the cause of the re-animation of the man. * * * Hewas a native of Rhode Island; his name was Gavot. He went to RhodeIsland in the same flag of truce as myself, about a monthafterwards. I felt extremely ill, but made out to keep about until Igot home. My parents then lived on the island of Nantucket. I was thentaken down, and lay in my bed six weeks in the most deplorablesituation; my body was swelled to a great degree, and my legs were asbig round as my body now is, and affected with the most excruciatingpains. What my disorder was I will not pretend to say; butDr. Tupper, quite an eminent physician, and a noted tory, who attendedme, declared to my mother that he knew of nothing that would operatein the manner that my disorder did, but poison. For the truth of thatI refer to my father and brothers, and to Mr. Henry Coffin, father toCaptain Peter Coffin, of the Manchester Packet of 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 Iendeavored to bear them as became an American. And I must mentionbefore I close, to the everlasting honor of those unfortunateAmericans who were on board the Jersey, that notwithstanding thesavage treatment they received, and death staring them in the face, every attempt which was made by the British to persuade them to entertheir ships of war or in their army, was treated with the utmostcontempt; and I saw only one instance of defection while I was onboard, and that person was hooted at and abused by the prisoners tillthe boat was out of hearing. Their patriotism in preferring suchtreatment, and even death in its most frightful shapes, to the serviceof the British, and fighting against their own country has seldom beenequalled, certainly never excelled, and if there be no monument raisedwith hands to commemorate the virtue of those men, it is stamped incapitals on the heart of every American acquainted with their meritand sufferings, and will there remain as long as the blood flows fromits fountains. "

We have already seen that many of the prisoners on board the Jerseywere impressed into the service of British men-of-war, and that othersvoluntarily enlisted for garrison duty in the West Indies. It seemsprobable, however, that, as Captain Coffin asserts, few enlisted inthe service to fight against their own countrymen, and those few wereprobably actuated by the hope of deserting. It is certain thatthousands preferred death to such a method of escaping from prison, asis proved by the multitudes of corpses interred in the sand of theWallabout, all of whom could, in this way, have saved theirlives. Conditions changed on board the Jersey, from time totime. Thus, the water supply that was at one time brought by theschooner Relief from New York, was, at other times, procured from abeautiful spring on Long Island, as we will see in our next chapter. 

Some of the prisoners speak of the foul air on board the prison shipcaused by the fact that all her port holes were closed, and a fewopenings cut in her sides, which were insufficient to ventilateher. Coffin says there was a good passage of air through the vesselfrom her port holes. It is probable that the Jersey became sonotorious as a death trap that at last, for very shame, some attemptwas made to secure more sanitary conditions. Thus, just before peacewas established, she was, for the first time, overhauled and cleaned, the wretched occupants being sent away for the purpose. The port holeswere very probably opened, and this is the more likely as we read ofsome of the prisoners freezing to death during the last year of thewar. From that calamity, at least, they were safe as long as they weredeprived of outer 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 onboard of her, although a city of churches was so near. The fear ofcontagion may have kept ministers of the gospel away. Visitors came, as we have seen, but not to soothe the sufferings of the prisoners, orto comfort those who were dying. It is said that a young doctor, namedGeorge Vandewater attended the sick, until he took a fatal disease anddied. He was a resident of Brooklyn, and seems to have been actuatedby motives of humanity, and therefore his name deserves a place inthis record. 

But although the rough seamen who left narratives of their experiencesin that fearful place have told us little or nothing about the innerfeelings of those poor sufferers, yet it must be presumed that many asilent prayer went up to the Judge and Father of all men, from thedepths of that foul prison ship. There was one boy on board theJersey, one at least, and we hope that there were many more, whotrusted in God that He could deliver him, even "from the nethermosthell. "

A large proportion of the prisoners were young men in their teens, whohad been attracted by the mysterious fascination of the sea; many ofthem had run away from good homes, and had left sorrowing parents andfriends to mourn their loss. The feelings of these young men, full ofeager hopes, and as yet unsoured by too rough handling in theirwrestle with the world, suddenly transferred to the deck of theJersey, has been well described by Fox and other captives, whoseadventures we have transcribed in these pages. 

We have now to tell the experience of a youth on the Jersey who livedto be a minister, and for many years was in charge of a church atBerkeley. This youth was sensitive, delicate, and far from strong. Hisfaith in human nature received a shock, and his disposition was warpedat the most receptive and formative period of his life, by theterrible scenes of suffering on the one hand, and relentless crueltyon the other, that he witnessed in that fatal place. He wrote, in hismemoir many years after: _"I have since found that the whole worldis but one great prison-house of guilty, sorrowful, and dying men, wholive in pride, envy, and malice, hateful, and hating one another. "_

This is one of the most terrible indictments of the human race thatwas ever written. Let us hope that it is not wholly true. 

In 1833 the Rev. Thomas Andros published his recollections under thetitle, "The Old Jersey Captive. " We will give an abstract of them. Hebegins by saying: "I was but in my seventeenth year when the strugglecommenced. In the summer of 1781 the ship Hannah, a very rich prize, was captured and brought into the port of New London. It infatuatedgreat numbers of our young men who flocked on board our private armedships in hopes of as great a prize. * * * I entered on board a newBrig called the 'Fair American. ' She carried sixteen guns. * * * Wewere captured on the 27th of August, by the Solebay frigate, andsafely stowed away in the Old Jersey prison ship at New York, an old, unsightly, rotten hulk. 

"Her dark and filthy appearance perfectly corresponded with the deathand despair that reigned within. She was moored three quarters of amile to the eastward of Brooklyn ferry, near a tide-mill on the LongIsland shore. The nearest distance to land was about twenty rods. Noother British ship ever proved the means of the destruction of so manyhuman beings. "

Andros puts the number of men who perished on board the Jersey as11, 000, and continues: "After it was known that it was next to certaindeath to confine a prisoner here, the inhumanity and wickedness ofdoing it was about the same as if he had been taken into the city anddeliberately shot on some public square. * * * Never did any Howard orangel of pity appear to inquire into or alleviate our woes. Once ortwice a bag of apples was hurled into the midst of hundreds ofprisoners, crowded together as thick as they could stand, and life andlimbs were endangered by the scramble. This was a cruel sport. When Isaw it about to commence I fled to the most distant part of the ship. "

At night, he says, the prisoners were driven down to darkness betweendecks, secured by iron gratings and an armed soldiery. He thus speaksof the tasks imposed upon the prisoners: "Around the well-room anarmed guard were forcing up the prisoners to the winches to clear theship of water, and prevent her sinking; and little could be heard buta roar of mutual execrations, reproaches and insults. 

 "Sights of woe, regions of sorrow, doleful shades; Where peace and rest can never dwell

"When I became an inmate of this abode of suffering, despair, anddeath, there were about 400 on board, but in a short time they wereincreased to 1, 200. 

"All the most deadly diseases were pressed into the service of theking of terrors, but his prime ministers were dysentery, small pox, and yellow fever. The healthy and the diseased were mingled togetherin the main ship. "

He says that the two hospital ships were soon overcrowded, and thattwo hundred or more of the prisoners, who soon became sick inconsequence of the want of room, were lodged in the fore-part of thelower gun-deck, where all the prisoners were confined at night. 

"Utter derangement was a common sympton of yellow fever, and toincrease the horror of darkness which enshrouded us, for we wereallowed 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!'"

Andros says that he sometimes found the man by whose side he had lainall night a corpse in the morning. There were many sick with ragingfever, and their loud cries for water, which could only be obtained onthe upper deck, mingled with the groans of the dying, and theexecrations of the tormented sufferers. If they attempted to getwater from the upper deck, the sentry would push them back with hisbayonet. Andros, at one time, had a narrow escape with his life, fromone of these bayonet thrusts. 

"In the morning the hatches were thrown open and we were allowed toascend. The first object we saw was a boat loaded with dead bodiesconveying them to the Long Island shore, where they were very slightlycovered with sand. * * * Let our disease be what it would we wereabandoned to our fate. No English physician ever came near us. "

Thirteen of the crew to which Andros belonged were on the Jersey. In ashort time all but three or four were dead. The healthiest diedfirst. They were seized vith yellow fever, which was an epidemic onthe ship, and died in a few hours. Andros escaped contagion longerthan any of his companions, with one exception. He says that theprisoners were furnished with buckets and brushes to cleanse the ship, and vinegar to sprinkle the floors, but that most of them had falleninto a condition of apathy and despair, and that they seldom exertedthemselves to improve their condition. 

"The encouragement to do so was small. The whole ship was equallyaffected, and contained pestilence enough to desolate a world; diseaseand death were wrought into her very timbers. At the time I left it isto be supposed a more filthy, contagious, and deadly abode neverexisted among a Christianized people. 

"The lower hold and the orlop deck were such a terror that no manwould venture down into them. * * * Our water was good could we havehad enough of it: the bread was superlatively bad. I do not recollectseeing any which was not full of living vermin, but eat it, worms andall, we must, or starve. * * * A secret, prejudicial to a prisoner, revealed to the guard, was death. Captain Young of Boston concealedhimself in a large chest belonging to a sailor going to be exchanged, and was carried on board the cartel, and we considered his escape ascertain, but the secret leaked out, and he was brought back and oneSpicer of Providence being suspected as the traitor the enragedprisoners were about to cut his throat. The guard rushed down andrescued him. 

"I knew no one to be seduced into the British service. They tried toforce one of our crew into the navy, but he chose rather to die thanperform any duty, and he was again restored to the prison-ship. "

Andros declares that there was no trace of religion exhibited on boardthe Jersey. He also says that the prisoners made a set of rules forthemselves by which they regulated their conduct towards eachother. No one was allowed to tyrannize over the weak, and morality wasenforced by rules, and any infraction of these regulations wasseverely punished. 

He speaks of scenes of dreadful suffering which he witnessed:

 "Which things, most worthy of pity, I myself saw, And of them was a part. "

"The prison ship is a blot which a thousand ages cannot eradicate fromthe name of Britian. * * * While on board almost every thought wasoccupied to invent some plan of escape. The time now came when I mustbe delivered from the ship or die. I was seized with yellow fever, andshould certainly take the small-pox with it, and who does not knowthat I could not survive the operation of both of these diseases atonce. * * * I assisted in nursing those who had the pox mostviolently. 

"The arrival of a cartel and my being exchanged would but render mydeath the more sure. "

Yet he endeavored to promote his exchange by stepping up and giving inhis name among the first, when a list of the prisoners wastaken. Andros was not strong, and as he himself says, disease oftenseemed to pass over the weak and sickly, and to attack, with deadlyresult, the prisoners who were the healthiest and most vigorous. 

"It was the policy of the English to return for sound and healthy mensent from our prisons, such Americans as had but just the breath oflife in them, sure to die before they reached home. The guard wouldtell a man while in health, 'You haven't been here long enough, youare too well to be exchanged. '

"There was one more method of getting from the ship, " Androscontinues, "and that was at night to steal down through a gun-portwhich we had managed to open unbeknown to the guard, and swim ashore. "This, he declared, was for him a forlorn hope. Already under theinfluence of yellow fever, and barely able to walk, he was, even whenwell, unable to swim ten rods. Discovery was almost certain, for theguards now kept vigilant watch to prevent any one escaping in thismanner, and they shot all whom they detected in the act ofescaping. Yet this poor young man trusted in God. He writes: "God, whohad something more for me to do, undertook for me. " Mr. Emery, thesailing master, was going ashore for water. Andros stepped up to himand asked: "Mr. Emery, may I go on shore with you after water?"

No such favor had ever been granted a prisoner, and Andros scarcelyknew what prompted him to prefer such a request. To his immensesurprise, the sailing master, who must have had a heart after all, replied, "Yes, with all my heart. " He was evidently struck withcompassion for the poor, apparently dying, young man. 

Andros, to the astonishment of his companions, immediately descendedinto the boat. Some of them asked: "What is that sick man going onshore for?"

The British sailors endeavored to dissuade him, thinking that he wouldprobably die on the excursion. 

"'So, to put them all to silence, I again ascended on board, for I hadneglected to take my great-coat. But I put it on, and waited for thesailing-master. The boat was pushed off, I attempted to row, but anEnglish sailor said, very kindly, 'Give me the oar. You are toounwell. ' * * * I looked back to the black and unsightly old ship as toan object of the greatest horror. * * * We ascended the creek andarrived at the spring, and I proposed to the sailors to go in quest ofapples. "

The sailing-master said to him, "This fresh air will be of service toyou. " This emboldened him to ask leave to ascend a bank about thirtyfeet high, and to call at a house near the spring to ask forrefreshment. "Go, " said Mr. Emery, "but take care not to be out ofthe way. " He replied that his state of health was such that nothingwas to be feared from him on that account. He managed to get into asmall orchard that belonged to the farmhouse. There he saw a sentinel, who was placed on guard over a pile of apples. He soon convincedhimself that this man was indifferent to his movements, and, watchinghis opportunity, when the man's back was turned, he slipped beyond theorchard, into a dense swamp, covered with a thick undergrowth ofsaplings and bushes. Here there was a huge prostrate log twenty feetin length, curtained with a dense tangle of green briar. 

"Lifting up this covering I crept in, close by the log, and restedcomfortably, defended from the northeast storm which soon commenced. "

He heard the boat's crew making inquiries for him but no onediscovered his hiding-place. One of them declared that he was safeenough, and would never live to go a mile. In the middle of the nighthe left his hiding place, and fell into a road which he pursued somedistance. When he heard approaching footsteps he would creep off thepath, roll himself up into a ball to look like a bush, and remainperfectly still until the coast was clear. He now felt that awonderful Providence was watching over him. His forethought inreturning for his overcoat was the means of saving his life, as hewould undoubtedly have perished from exposure without it. Next nighthe hid in a high stack of hay, suffering greatly. When the storm wasover he left this hiding place, and entered a deep hollow in the woodsnear by, where he felt secure from observation. Here he took off hisclothes and spread them in the sun to dry. 

Returning to the road he was proceeding on his way, when at a bend inthe road, he came upon two light dragoons, evidently looking forhim. What was he to do? His mind acted quickly, and, as theyapproached, 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 werethe owner of the cottage, going about the field; deliberately pickingup ears of corn; righting up the cap sheaf of a stack of stalks, andexamining each one. He had lost his hat, and had a handkerchief aroundhis head, which helped to deceive the dragoons, who supposed that hehad just come out of the cottage. They eyed him sharply, but passedon. 

After this he dared not show himself, and wandered about, living onapples and water. He would lie concealed all day, in barns or hollowsof the woods. At night he travelled as far as his weakened conditionwould allow He often found unfermented cider at the presses, for itwas cider-making time. 

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 forhim. He says that in the course of his wanderings he uniformly foundwomen kind and helpful. They gave him food and kept his secret. Onenight, feeling utterly spent, he came to the poor dwelling of an oldman and his wife, on the east side of Long Island. These good peopleassisted him by every means in their power, as if he were their ownson. They took off his clothes, giving him another suit until they hadbaked all his garments in the oven to destroy the vermin whichtormented him day and night. They insisted upon his occupying a cleanbed. That night he slept sweetly, rid of the intolerable torture ofbeing eaten up alive. He managed to reach Sag Harbor, where he foundtwo other escaped prisoners. Soon he was smuggled to Connecticut in awhale-boat, and restored to his mother. It was late in October when hereached home. He was very ill and delirious for a long time, butfinally recovered, taught school for some time, and finally became aminister of the gospel. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING

By far the most complete account of life on board the Old Jersey iscontained in Captain Dring's Recollections. His nature was hopeful, and his constitution strong and enduring. He attempted to make thebest of his situation, and succeeded in leading as nearly a tolerablelife on board the prison-ship as was possible. His book is too longfor insertion in these pages, but we will endeavor to give the readeran abstract of it. 

This book was published in 1865, having been prepared for the pressand annotated by Mr. Albert G. Greene, who speaks of Captain Dring as"a frank, outspoken, and honest seaman. " His original manuscript wasfirst published in 1829. 

Dring describes the prison ships as leaky old hulks, condemned asunfit for hospitals or store ships, but considered good enough forprisoners doomed to speedy annihilation. He says:

"There is little doubt that the superior officers of the Royal Navyunder whose exclusive jurisdiction were these ships, intended toinsure, as far as possible, the good health of those who were confinedon board of them; there is just as little doubt, however, that theinferior officers, under whose control those prisoners were moreimmediately placed, * * * too often frustrated the purposes of theirsuperior officers, and too often disgraced humanity, by their wilfuldisregard of the policy of their Government, and of the orders oftheir superiors, by the uncalled-for severity of their treatment ofthose who were placed in their custody, and by their shamelessmalappropriation of the means of support which were placed in theirhands for the sustenance of the prisoners. "

However that may be, the superior officers must have known that theprison ships were unfit for human habitation; that they were fearfullyovercrowded; and that the mortality on board of them was unprecedentedin the annals of prison life. 

The introduction to Captain Drings's recollections declares, what iswell known, that General Washington possessed but limited authority;he was the Commander-in-Chief of the army, but had nothing to do withthe American Navy, and still less with the crews of privateers, whomade up a very large portion of the men on board the Jersey. Yet hedid all he could, actuated, as he always was, by the purest motives ofbenevolence and humanity. 

"The authority to exchange naval prisoners, " to quote from thisintroduction, "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 heearnestly desired to relieve them from their sufferings. 

"It will be seen from these circumstances that no blame could properlyattach to General Washington, or the Continental Congress, or theCommissary of Prisoners; the blame belonged to those who were engagedin privateering, all of whom had been accustomed to release, withoutparole, the crews of the vessels which they captured, or enlist themon other privateers; in both cases removing the very means by whichalone the release of their captive fellow seamen could be properly andsafely effected. 

"From the careful perusal of all the information we possess on thisinteresting subject, the reader will arise with the conviction that, by unwarrantable abuses of authority; and unprincipled disregard ofthe purposes of the British Government in some of its agents, greatnumbers of helpless American prisoners were wantonly plunged into thedeepest distress; exposed to the most severe sufferings, and carriedto unhonored graves. * * * Enough will remain uncontradicted bycompetent testimony to brand with everlasting infamy all who wereimmediately concerned in the business; and to bring a blush of shameon the cheek of every one who feels the least interest in the memoryof any one who, no matter how remotely, was a party to so mean and yetso horrible an outrage. * * * The authors and abettors of the outragesto which reference has been made will stand convicted not only of themost heartless criminality against the laws of humanity and the lawsof God, but of the most flagrant violation of the Laws of Nations, andthe Law of the Land. "

These extracts are all taken from the Introduction to Captain Dring'sRecollections, 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 67years of age at the time of his death. He was many years in themerchant service, and wrote his recollections in 1824. 

"I was first confined on the Good Hope, in the year 1779, then lyingin the North River opposite the city of New York, but after aconfinement of more than four months, I succeeded in making my escapeto the Jersey shore. "

Captain Dring is said to have been one of the party who escaped fromthe Good Hope in October, 1779. The New Jersey papers thus describedthe escape. 

"Chatham, N. J. Last Wednesday morning about one o'clock made theirescape from the Good Hope prison ship in the North River, nineCaptains and two privates. Among the number was Captain James Prince, who has been confined four months, and having no prospect of beingexchanged, concerted a plan in conjunction with the other gentlemen tomake their escape, which they effected in the following manner: Theyconfined the Mate, disarmed the sentinels, and hoisted out the boatwhich was on deck; they brought off nine stands of arms, one pair ofpistols, and a sufficient quantity of ammunition, being determined notto be taken alive. They had scarce got clear of the ship before thealarm was given, when they were fired on by three different ships, butfortunately no person was hurt. Captain Prince speaks in the highestterms of Captain Charles Nelson, who commanded the prison-ship, usingthe prisoners with a great deal of humanity, particularly himself. 

"I was again captured in 1782, " Dring continues, "and conveyed onboard the Jersey, where * * * I was a witness and partaker of theunspeakable sufferings of that wretched class of American prisonerswho were there taught the utmost extreme of human misery. I am now faradvanced in years, and am the only survivor, with the exception oftwo, of a crew of 65 men. I often pass the descendant of one of my oldcompanions in captivity, and the recollection comes fresh to my mindthat his father was my comrade and fellow sufferer in prison; that Isaw him breathe his last upon the deck of the Jersey, and assisted athis interment at the Waleboght; * * *

"In May, 1782, I sailed from Providence, R. I. , as Master's-mate, onboard a privateer called the Chance, commanded by Captain DanielAborn, mounting 12 six-pound cannon, and having 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 Yorkand the Belisarius dropped her anchor abreast of the city. A largegondola soon came alongside, in which was seated David Sproat, themuch-hated British Commissary of Naval Prisoners. He was an Americanrefugee, universally detested for the insolence of his manners, andthe cruelty of his conduct. The prisoners were ordered into the boats, and told to apply themselves to the oars, but declined to exertthemselves in that manner, whereupon he scowled at them and remarked, "I'll soon fix you, my lads!"

David Sproat found America too hot for him after the war and died atKirkcudbright, Scotland, in 1799. 

Dring says: "My station in the boat as we hauled alongside, wasexactly opposite one of the air-ports in the side of the ship. Fromthis aperture proceeded a strong current of foul vapor of a kind towhich I had been before accustomed while confined on board the GoodHope, the peculiar disgusting smell of which I then recollected, aftera lapse of three years. This was, however, far more foul and loathsomethan anything which I had ever met with on board that ship, and itproduced a sensation of nausea far beyond my powers of description. 

"Here, while waiting for orders to ascend on board, we were addressedby some of the prisoners from the air-ports * * * after some questionswhence we came, and respecting the manner of our capture, one of theprisoners said that it was a lamentable thing to see so many young menin the prime of health and vigor condemned to a living grave. " He wenton to say that Death passed over such human skeletons as himself asunworthy of his powers, but that he delighted in making the strong, the youthful, and the vigorous, his prey. 

After the prisoners had been made to descend the hatchways, these werethen fastened down for the night. Dring says it was impossible for himto find one of his companions in the darkness. 

"Surrounded by I knew not whom, except that they were beings aswretched as myself; with dismal sounds meeting my ears from everydirection; a nauseous and putrid atmosphere filling my lungs at everybreath; and a stifling and suffocating heat which almost deprived meof sense, even of life. Previous to leaving the boat I had put onseveral articles of clothing, for the purpose of security, but I wassoon compelled to disencumber myself of these. * * * Thoughts of sleepdid not enter into my mind. "

He discovered a gleam of light from one of the port-holes and keepinghold of his bag endeavored to make his way to it, but was greeted bycurses and imprecations from those who were lying on the deck, andwhom he disturbed. At length he arrived at the desired spot, but foundit occupied. In the morning he saw himself surrounded by a crowd offorms, with the hues of death and famine upon their faces. At eighto'clock they were permitted to ascend on deck, and he found some ofhis friends. 

"Pale and meagre, the throng came on deck, to view for a few momentsthe morning sun, and then to descend again, to pass another day ofmisery and wretchedness. I found myself surrounded by a motley crew ofwretches, with tattered garments and pallid visages. * * * Among themI saw one ruddy and heathful countenance, and recognized the featuresof one of my late companions on the Belisarius. But how different didhe appear from the group around him * * * men who, now shrunken anddecayed, had but a short time before been as strong, as healthful, andas vigorous as himself. * * * During the night I had, in addition tomy other sufferings, been tormented with what I supposed to be vermin, and on coming upon deck, I found that a black silk handkerchief, whichI wore around my neck, was completely spotted with them. Although thishad often been mentioned as one of the nuisances of the place, yet asI had never before been in a situation to witness anything of thekind, the sight made me shudder, as I knew at once that as long as Ishould remain on board, these loathsome creatures would be my constantcompanions and unceasing tormentors. 

"The next disgusting object which met my sight was a man sufferingfrom small-pox, and in a few minutes I found myself surrounded by manyothers laboring under the same disease in every stage of itsprogress. "

Dring was obliged to inoculate himself, as that was thought to be thesafest way of taking the disease. He borrowed some virus from asufferer, and scarified the skin of his hand with a pin. He then boundup his hand. Next morning he found that it had festered. He took thedisease lightly, and soon recovered, while a very large proportion ofthose who contracted smallpox in the natural manner died of it. 

All the prisoners from the Belisarius were obliged to fast fortwenty-four hours. Dring had some ship biscuit with him, in hisbag. These he distributed to his companions. They then formedthemselves into messes of six each, and next morning drew their scantypittance of food. 

We have said that Dring and the other officers on board solved theproblem of living with _comparative_ comfort on board theJersey. 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 theofficers had money to supply many of their wants, but all this willappear in the course of the narrative. 

He says that, even on the second day of their confinement, they couldnot obtain their allowance of food in time to cook it. No distinctionof rank was made by the jailors on the Jersey, but the prisonersthemselves agreed to allow the officers to occupy the extremeafterpart of the ship, between decks, called the gun-room. Dring soonbecame an inmate of this place, in company with the other officers whowere already in possession, and these tendered him all the littleservices in their power. 

The different messes were all numbered. At nine o'clock the stewardand his assistants would take their places at the window in the bulkhead in the steward's room, and ring a bell. A man from each messstood ready to be in time to answer when his number was called. Therations were all prepared ready for delivery. They were on two-thirdsallowance. 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. 

Two thirds of this allowance for each man would have been sufficientto sustain life, had it been of moderately good quality. They neverreceived butter, but a rancid and ill-smelling substance called sweetoil. "The smell of it, accustomed as we were to everything foul andnauseous, was more than we could endure. We, however, always receivedit, 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 theirwormy bread. "

Oil had been dealt out to the prisoners on the Good Hope, but there itwas hoarded carefully, for they were allowed lights until nine P. M. , so they used it in their lamps. But on the Jersey, Dring declares thatneither light nor fire was ever allowed. 

Often their provisions were not dealt out in time to be cooked thatday, and then they had to fast or eat them raw. The cooking was donein the "Great Copper" under the forecastle. This was a boiler enclosedin brick-work about eight feet square. It was large enough to containtwo or three hogsheads of water. It was square, and divided into twoportions. In one side peas and oatmeal were boiled in fresh water. Onthe other side the meat was boiled in salt water, and as we havealready stated the food was poisoned by copperas. This was the cause, it is believed, of many deaths, especially as the water was obtainedfrom alongside the ship, and was extremely unwholesome. 

The portion of each mess was designated by a tally fastened to it by astring. Hundreds of tallies were to be seen hanging over the sides ofthe brick-work by their strings, each eagerly watched by some memberof the mess, who waited to receive it. 

The meat was suffered to remain in the boiler a certain time, then thecook's bell was rung, and the pittance of food must be immediatelyremoved, whether sufficiently cooked or not. The proportion of peasand oatmeal belonging to each mess was measured out of the copperafter it was boiled. 

The cook alone seemed to have much flesh on his bones. He had been aprisoner, but seeing no prospect of ever being liberated he hadoffered his services, and his mates and scullions were also prisonerswho had followed his example. The cook was not ill-natured, andalthough often cursed by the prisoners when out of hearing, he reallydisplayed fortitude and forbearance far beyond what most men wouldhave been capable of showing. "At times, when his patience wasexhausted, he did, indeed, make the hot water fly among us, but areconciliation was usually effected with little difficulty. 

"Many of the different messes had obtained leave from His Majesty theCook to prepare their own rations, separate from the general mess inthe great boiler. For this purpose a great many spikes and hooks hadbeen driven into the brick-work by which the boiler was enclosed, onwhich to suspend their tin kettles. As soon as we were permitted to goon deck in the morning, some one took the tin kettle belonging to themess, with as much water and as many splinters of wood as we had beenable to procure during the previous day, and carried them to theGalley; and there having suspended his kettle on one of the hooks orspikes stood ready to kindle his little fire as soon as the Cook orhis mates would permit. It required but little fire to boil our foodin these kettles, for their bottoms were made concave, and the firewas applied directly in the centre, and let the remaining brands beever so small they were all carefully quenched; and having beenconveyed below were kept for use on a future occasion. 

"Much contention often arose through our endeavors to obtain placesaround the brick-work, but these disputes were always promptly decidedby the Cook, from whose mandate there was no appeal. No sooner had oneprisoner completed the cooking for his mess, than another supplicantstood ready to take his place; and they thus continued to throng thegalley, during the whole time that the fire was allowed to remainunder the Great Copper, unless it happened to be the pleasure of theCook to drive them away. *[... ] Each man in the mess procured andsaved as much water as possible during the previous day; as no personwas ever allowed to take more than a pint at a time from thescuttle-cask in which it was kept. Every individual was thereforobliged each day to save a little for the common use of the mess onthe next morning. By this arrangement the mess to which I belonged hadalways a small quantity of fresh water in store, which we carefullykept, with a few other necessaries, in a chest which we used incommon. 

"During the whole period of my confinement I never partook of any foodwhich had been prepared in the Great Copper. It is to this fact that Ihave always attributed, under Divine Providence, the degree of healthwhich I preserved on board. I was thereby also, at times, enabled toprocure several necessary and comfortable things, such as tea, sugar, etc. So that, wretchedly as I was situated, my condition was farpreferable to that of most of my fellow sufferers, which has ever beento me a theme of sincere and lasting gratitude to Heaven. 

"But terrible indeed was the condition of most of my fellowcaptives. Memory still brings before me those emaciated beings, movingfrom the Galley with their wretched pittance of meat; each creeping tothe spot where his mess was assembled, to divide it with a group ofhaggard and sickly creatures, their garments hanging in tatters roundtheir meagre limbs, and the hue of death upon their careworn faces. Bythese it was consumed with the scanty remnants of bread, which wasoften mouldy and filled with worms. And even from this vile fare theywould rise up in torments from the cravings of unsatisfied hunger andthirst. 

"No vegetables of any description were ever afforded us by our inhumankeepers. Good Heaven! what a luxury to us would then have been even afew potatoes!--if but the very leavings of swine. * * *

 "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. "

CHAPTER XXXV

THE NARRATIVE OF CAPTAIN DRING (CONTINUED)

"The quarter-deck of the Jersey covered about one-fourth of the upperdeck, and the forecastle extended from the stern, about one-eighthpart of the length of the upper deck. Sentinels were stationed on thegangways on each side of the upper deck, leading from the quarter-deckto the forecastle. These gangways were about five feet wide; and herethe prisoners were allowed to pass and repass. The intermediate spacefrom the bulkhead of the quarter-deck to the forecastle was filledwith long spars and booms, and called the spar-deck. The temporarycovering afforded by the spar-deck was of the greatest benefit to theprisoners, as it served to shield us from the rain and the scorchingrays of the sun. It was here, therefore, that our movables were placedwhen we were engaged in cleaning the lower decks. The spar-deck wasalso the only place where we were allowed to walk, and was crowdedthrough the day by the prisoners on deck. Owing to the great number ofprisoners, and the small space allowed us by the spar-deck, it wasour custom to walk in platoons, each facing the same way, and turningat the same time. The Derrick for taking in wood, water, etc. , stoodon the starboard side of the spar-deck. On the larboard side of theship was placed the accommodation ladder, leading from the gangway tothe water. At the head of the ladder a sentinel was also stationed. 

"The head of the accommodation ladder was near the door of thebarricade, which extended across the front of the quarter-deck, andprojected a few feet beyond the sides of the ship. The barricade wasabout ten feet high, and was pierced with loop-holes for musketry inorder that the prisoners might be fired on from behind it, if occasionshould require. 

"The regular crew of the ship consisted of a Captain, two Mates, aSteward, a Corporal, and about 12 sailors. The crew of the ship had nocommunication whatever with the prisoners. No person was everpermitted to pass through the barricade door, except when it wasrequired that the messes should be examined and regulated, in whichcase each man had to pass through, and go between decks, and thereremain until the examination was completed. None of the guard or ofthe ship's crew ever came among the prisoners while I was on board. Inever saw one of her officers or men except when there were passengersgoing in the boat, 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 tenfeet distant from the sides of the ship; thus leaving as wide a spaceunencumbered in the middle of each deck, fore and aft, as our crowdedsituation would admit. Between these tiers of chests, etc. , and thesides of the ship, was the place where the different messes assembled;and some of the messes were also separated from their neighbors by atemporary partition of chests, etc. Some individuals of the differentmesses usually slept on the chests, in order to preserve theircontents from being plundered in the night. 

"At night the spaces in the middle of the decks were much encumberedwith hammocks, but these were always removed in the morning. * * * Myusual place of abode being in the Gunroom, I was never under thenecessity of descending to the lower dungeon; and during myconfinement I had no disposition to visit it. It was inhabited by themost wretched in appearance of all our miserable company. From thedisgusting and squalid appearance of the groups which I saw ascendingthe stairs which led to it, it must have been more dismal, ifpossible, than that part of the hulk where I resided. Its occupantsappeared to be mostly foreigners, who had seen and survived everyvariety of human suffering. The faces of many of them were coveredwith dirt and filth; their long hair and beards matted and foul;clothed in rags, and with scarcely a sufficient supply of these tocover their disgusting bodies. Many among them possessed no clothingexcept the remnant of those garments which they wore when firstbrought on board; and were unable to procure even any material forpatching these together, when they had been worn to tatters byconstant use. * * * Some, and indeed many of them, had not the meansof procuring a razor, or an ounce of soap. 

"Their beards were occasionally reduced by each other with a pair ofshears or scissors. * * * Their skins were discoloured by continualwashing in salt water, added to the circumstance that it wasimpossible for them to wash their linen in any other manner than bylaying it on the deck and stamping on it with their feet, after it hadbeen immersed in salt water, their bodies remaining naked during theprocess. 

"To men in this situation everything like ordinary cleanliness wasimpossible. Much that was disgusting in their appearance undoubtedlyoriginated from neglect, which long confinement had rendered habitual, until it created a confirmed indifference to personal appearance. 

"As soon as the gratings had been fastened over the hatchways for thenight, we usually went to our sleeping places. It was, of course, always desirable to obtain a station as near as possible to the sideof the ship, and, if practicable, in the immediate vicinity of one ofthe air-ports, as this not only afforded us a better air, but alsorendered us less liable to be trodden upon by those who were movingabout the decks during the night. 

"But silence was a stranger to our dark abode. There were continualnoises during the night. The groans of the sick and the dying; thecurses poured out by the weary and exhausted upon our inhuman keepers;the restlessness caused by the suffocating heat, and the confined andpoisonous air, mingled with the wild and incoherent ravings ofdelirium, were the sounds which every night were raised around us inevery direction. Such was our ordinary situation, but at times theconsequences of our crowded condition were still more terrible, andproved fatal to many of our number in a single night. 

"But, strange as it may appear, notwithstanding all the * * *suffering which was there endured I knew many who had been inmates ofthat abode for two years, who were apparently perfectly well. Theyhad, as they expressed it, 'been through the furnace and becomeseasoned. ' Most of these, however, were foreigners, who appeared tohave abandoned all hope of ever being exchanged, and had become quiteindifferent with regard to the place of their abode. 

"But far different was the condition of that portion of our number whowere natives of the United States. These formed by far the mostnumerous class of the prisoners. Most of these were young men, * * *who had been captured soon after leaving their homes, and during theirfirst voyage. After they had been here immured the sudden change intheir situation was like a sentence of death. Many a one was crusheddown beneath the sickness of the heart, so well described by thepoet:--

 "'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_'

"These poor creatures had, in many instances, been plundered of theirwearing apparel by their captors, and here, the dismal and disgustingobjects by which they were surrounded, the vermin which infested them, the vile and loathsome food, and what with _them_ was far frombeing the lightest of their trials, their ceaseless longing aftertheir _homes_, * * * all combined, had a wonderful effect onthem. Dejection and anguish were soon visible on their countenances. They became dismayed and terror-stricken; and many of them absolutelydied that most awful of all human deaths, the effects of a _brokenheart_. 

"A custom had long been established that certain labor which it wasnecessary should be performed daily, should be done by a company, usually called the 'Working party. ' This consisted of about twentyable-bodied men chosen from among the prisoners, and was commanded, in daily rotation, by those of our number who had formerly beenofficers of vessels. The commander of the party for the day bore thetitle of Boatswain. The members of the Working-party received, as acompensation for their services, a full allowance of provisions, andhalf a pint of rum each, with the privilege of going on deck early inthe morning, to breathe the pure air. 

"This privilege alone was a sufficient compensation for all the dutywhich was required of them. 

"Their routine of service was to wash down that part of the upper deckand gangways where the prisoners were permitted to walk; to spread theawning, or to hoist on board the wood, water, and other supplies, fromthe boats in which the same were brought alongside the ship. 

"When the prisoners ascended to the upper deck in the morning, if theday was fair, each carried up his hammock and bedding, which were allplaced upon the spar-deck, or booms. The Working-party then took thesick and disabled who remained below, and placed them in the bunksprepared for them upon the centre-deck; they then, if any of theprisoners had died during the night, carried up the dead bodies, andlaid them upon the booms; after which it was their duty to wash downthe main decks below; during which operation the prisoners remained onthe upper deck, except such as chose to go below and volunteer theirservices in the performance of this duty. 

"Around the railing of the hatchway leading from the centre to thelower decks, were placed a number of large tubs for the occasional useof the prisoners during the night, and as general receptacles offilth. Although these were indispensably necessary to us, yet theywere highly offensive. It was a part of the duty of the Working-partyto carry these on deck, at the time when the prisoners ascended in themorning, and to return them between decks in the afternoon. 

"Our beds and clothing were kept on deck until nearly the hour when wewere to be ordered below for the night. During this interval * * * thedecks washed and cleared of all incumbrance, except the poor wretcheswho lay in the bunks, it was quite refreshing after the suffocatingheat and foul vapors of the night to walk between decks. There wasthen some circulation of air through the ship, and, for a few hours, our existence was, in some degree, tolerable. 

"About two hours before sunset the order was usually issued for theprisoners to carry their hammocks, etc. , below. After this had beendone we were all either to retire between decks, or to remain aboveuntil sunset according to our own pleasure. Everything which we coulddo conducive to cleanliness having then been performed, if we everfelt anything like enjoyment in this wretched abode, it was duringthis brief interval, when we breathed the cool air of the approachingnight, and felt the luxury of our evening pipe. But short indeed wasthis interval of repose. The Working-party was soon ordered to carrythe tubs below, and we prepared to descend to our gloomy and crowdeddungeons. This was no sooner done than the gratings were closed overthe hatchways, the sentinels stationed, and we left to sicken and pinebeneath our accumulated torments; with our guards above crying aloud, through the long night, 'All's well!"'

Captain Dring says that at that time the Jersey was used for seamenalone. The average number on board was one thousand. It consisted ofthe crews of vessels of all the nations with which the English were atwar. But the greater number had been captured on board Americanvessels. 

There were three hospital ships in the Wallabout; the Stromboli, theHunter, and the Scorpion. [Footnote: At one time as we have seen, theScorpion was a prison ship, from which Freneau was sent to the Hunterhospital ship. ] There was not room enough on board these ships forall the sick, and a part of the upper deck of the Jersey was thereforeprepared for their accommodation. These were on the after part of theupper deck, on the larboard side, where those who felt the symptoms ofapproaching sickness could lie down, in order to be found by thenurses as soon as possible. 

Few ever returned from the hospital ships to the Jersey. Dring knewbut three such instances during his imprisonment. He says that "theoutward appearance of these hospitals was disgusting in the highestdegree. The sight of them was terrible to us. Their appearance waseven more shocking than that of our own miserable hulk. 

"On board the Jersey among the prisoners were about half a dozen menknown by the appellation of nurses. I never learned by whom they wereappointed, or whether they had any regular appointment at all. Butone fact I knew well; they were all thieves. They were, however, sometimes useful in assisting the sick to ascend from below to thegangway on the upper deck, to be examined by the visiting Surgeon whoattended from the Hunter every day, when the weather was good. If asick man was pronounced by the Surgeon to be a proper subject for oneof the hospital ships, he was put into the boat waiting alongside; butnot without the loss or detention of his effects, if he had any, asthese were at once taken by the nurses, as their own property. * * * Ihad found Mr. Robert Carver, our Gunner while on board the Chance, sick in one of the bunks where those retired who wished to beremoved. He was without a bed or pillow, and had put on all thewearing apparel which he possessed, wishing to preserve it, and beingsensible of his situation. I found him sitting upright in the bunk, with his great-coat on over the rest of his garments, and his hatbetween his knees. The weather was excessively hot, and, in the placewhere he lay, the heat was overpowering. I at once saw that he wasdelirious, a sure presage that the end was near. I took off hisgreat-coat, and having folded and placed it under his head for apillow, I laid him upon it, and went immediately to prepare him sometea. I was absent but a few minutes, and, on returning, met one of thethievish Nurses with Carver's great-coat in his hand. On ordering himto return it his reply was that it was a perquisite of the Nurses, andthe only one they had; that the man was dying, and the great-coatcould be of no further use to him. I however, took possession of thecoat, and on my liberation, returned it to the family of the owner. MrCarver soon after expired where he lay. We procured a blanket in whichto wrap his body, which was thus prepared for interment. Others ofthe crew of the Chance had died before that time. Mr Carver was a manof strong and robust constitution. Such men were subject to the mostviolent attacks of the fever, and were also its most certain victims. "

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE INTERMENT OF THE DEAD

Captain Dring continues his narrative by describing the manner inwhich the dead were interred in the sand of the Wallabout. Everymorning, he says, the dead bodies were carried to the upper deck andthere laid upon the gratings. Any person who could procure, and choseto furnish, a blanket, was allowed to sew it around the remains of hisdeparted companion. 

"The signal being made, a boat was soon seen approaching from theHunter, and if there were any dead on board the other ships, the boatreceived them, on her way to the Jersey. 

"The corpse was laid upon a board, to which some ropes were attachedas straps; as it was often the case that bodies were sent on shore forinterment before they had become sufficiently stiff to be lowered intothe boat by a single strap. Thus prepared a tackle was attached to theboard, and the remains * * * were hoisted over the side of the shipinto the boat, without further ceremony. If several bodies werewaiting for interment, but one of them was lowered into the boat at atime, for the sake of decency. The prisoners were always very anxiousto be engaged in the duty of interment, not so much from a feeling ofhumanity, or from a wish to pay respect to the remains of the dead, for to these feelings they had almost become strangers, as from thedesire of once more placing their feet on the land, if but for a fewminutes. A sufficient number of prisoners having received permissionto assist in this duty, they entered the boat accompanied by a guardof soldiers, and put off 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 theshore, we first went to a small hut, which stood near the wharf, andwas used as a place of deposit for the handbarrows and shovelsprovided for these occasions. Having placed the corpses on thebarrows, and received our hoes and shovels, we proceeded to the sideof the bank near the Waleboght. Here a vacant space having beenselected, we were directed to dig a trench in the sand, of a properlength for the reception of the bodies. We continued our labor untilthe guards considered that a sufficient space had been excavated. Thecorpses were then laid in the trench without ceremony, and we threwthe sand over them. The whole appeared to produce no more effect uponour guards than if they were burying the bodies of dead animals, instead of men. They scarcely allowed us time to look about us; for nosooner had we heaped the earth upon the trench, than we were orderedto march. But a single glance was sufficient to show us parts of manybodies which were exposed to view, although they had probably beenplaced there with the same mockery of interment but a few days before. 

"Having thus performed, as well as we were permitted to do it, thelast duty to the dead, and the guards having stationed themselves oneach side of us, we began reluctantly to retrace our steps to theboat. We had enjoyed the pleasure of breathing for a few minutes theair of our native soil; and the thought of return to the crowdedprison-ship was terrible in the extreme. As we passed by the watersidewe implored our guards to allow us to bathe, or even to wash ourselvesfor a few minutes, but this was refused us. 

"I was the only person of our party who wore a pair of shoes, and wellrecollect 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 patchof turf, some pieces of which we tore up from the earth, and obtainedpermission to carry them on board for our comrades to smellthem. Circumstances like these may appear trifling to the carelessreader; but let him be assured that they were far from being triflesto 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 afew minutes, re-enter the place of suffering, from which, in allprobability, we should never return alive; all tended to rendereverything connected with the firm land beneath, and the sweet airabove us, objects of deep and thrilling interest. 

"Having arrived at the hut we there deposited our implements, andwalked to the landing-place, where we prevailed on our guards, whowere Hessians, to allow us the gratification of remaining nearly halfan hour before we returned to the boat. 

"Near us stood a house occupied by a miller, and we had been told thata tide-mill which he attended was in the immediate vicinity, as alanding-place for which the wharf where we stood had been erected. ** * It was designated by the prisoners by the appellation of the 'OldDutchman's, ' and its very walls were viewed by us with feelings ofveneration, as we had been told that the amiable daughter of its ownerhad kept an accurate account of the number of bodies that had beenbrought on shore for interment from the Jersey and hospitalships. This could easily be done in the house, as its windowscommanded 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. 

"Sadly did we approach and re-enter our foul and disgusting place ofconfinement. The pieces of turf which we carried on board were soughtfor by our fellow prisoners, with the greatest avidity, every fragmentbeing passed by them from hand to hand, and its smell inhaled as if ithad been a fragrant rose. * * * The first of the crew of the Chanceto die was a lad named Palmer, about twelve years of age, and theyoungest of our crew. When on board the Chance he was a waiter to theofficers, and he continued in this duty after we were placed on boardthe Jersey. He had, with many others of our crew, been inoculated forthe small-pox, immediately after our arrival on board. The usualsymptoms appeared at the proper time, and we supposed the appearanceof his disorder favorable, but these soon changed, and the yellow hueof his features declared the approach of death. * * * The night hedied was truly a wretched one for me. I spent most of it in totaldarkness, holding him during his convulsions. * * * I had doneeverything in my power for this poor boy, during his sickness, andcould render him but one more kind office (after his death). Iassisted to sew a blanket around his body, which was, with others whohad died, during the night, conveyed upon deck in the morning, to beat the usual hour hurried to the bank at the Walebocht. I regrettedthat I could not assist at his interment, as I was then suffering withthe small-pox myself, neither am I certain that permission would havebeen granted me, if I had sought it. Our keepers appeared to have noidea that the prisoners could feel any regard for each other, butappeared to think us as cold-hearted as themselves. If anything likesympathy was ever shown us by any of them it was done by theHessians. * * * The next deaths among our company were those of ThomasMitchell and his son-in-law, Thomas Sturmey. It is a singular factthat both of these men died at the same time. "

THE GUARDS ON BOARD THE JERSEY

"In addition to the regular officers and seamen of the Jersey, therewere stationed on board about a dozen old invalid Marines, but ouractual guard was composed of soldiers from the different regimentsquartered on Long Island. The number usually on duty on board wasabout thirty. Each week they were relieved by a fresh party. They wereEnglish, Hessian, and Refugees. We always preferred the Hessians, fromwhom we received better treatment than from the others. As to theEnglish, we did not complain, being aware that they merely obeyedtheir orders, in regard to us; but the Refugees * * * were viewed byus with scorn and hatred. I do not recollect, however, that a guard ofthese miscreants was placed over us more than three times, duringwhich their presence occasioned much tumult and confusion; for theprisoners could not endure the sight of these men, and occasionallyassailed them with abusive language, while they, in turn, treated uswith all the severity in their power. We dared not approach near them, for fear of their bayonets, and of course could not pass along thegangways where they were stationed; but were obliged to crawl alongupon the booms, in order to get fore and aft, or to go up and down thehatchways. They never answered any of our remarks respecting them, butwould merely point to their uniforms, as much as to say, 'We areclothed by our Sovereign, while you are naked. ' They were as muchgratified by the idea of leaving us as we were at seeing them depart. 

"Many provoking gestures were made by the prisoners as they left theship, and our curses followed them as far as we could make ourselvesheard. 

"A regiment of Refugees, with a green uniform, were then quartered atBrooklyn. We were invited to join this Royal band, and to partake ofhis Majesty's pardon and bounty. But the prisoners, in the midst oftheir unbounded sufferings, of their dreadful privations, andconsuming anguish, spurned the insulting offer. They preferred tolinger and to die rather than desert their country's cause. During thewhole period of my confinement I never knew a single instance ofenlistment among the prisoners of the Jersey. 

"The only duty, to my knowledge, ever performed by the old Marines wasto guard the water-butt, near which one of them was stationed with adrawn cutlass. They were ordered to allow no prisoner to carry awaymore than one pint at once, but we were allowed to drink at the buttas much as we pleased, for which purpose two or three copper ladleswere chained to the cask. Having been long on board and regular inperformance of this duty, they had become familiar with the faces ofthe prisoners, and could, in many instances, detect the frauds whichwe practiced upon them in order to obtain more fresh water for ourcooking than was allowed us by the regulations of the ship. Over thewater the sailors had no control. The daily consumption of water onboard was at least equal to 700 gallons. I know not whence it wasbrought, but presume it was from Brooklyn. One large gondola, or boat, was kept in constant employment to furnish the necessary supply. 

"So much of the water as was not required on deck for immediate usewas conducted into butts, placed in the lower hold of the hulk, through a leather hose, passing through her side, near the bends. Tothis water we had recourse, when we could procure no other. 

"When water in any degree fit for use was brought on board, it isimpossible to describe the struggle which ensued, in consequence ofour haste and exertions to procure a draught of it. The best which wasever afforded us was very brackish, but that from the ship's hold wasnauseous in the highest degree. This must be evident when the fact isstated that the butts for receiving it had never been cleaned sincethey were put in the hold. The quantity of foul sediment which theycontained was therefore very great, and was disturbed and mixed withthe water as often as a new supply was poured into them, therebyrendering their whole contents a substance of the most disgusting andpoisonous nature. I have not the least doubt that the use of this vilecompound caused the death of hundreds of the prisoners, when, to allaytheir tormenting thirst, they were driven by desperation to drink thisliquid poison, and to abide the consequences. "

CHAPTER XXXVII

DAME GRANT AND HER BOAT

"One indulgence was allowed us by our keepers, if indulgence it can becalled. They had given permission for a boat to come alongside theship, with a supply of a few necessary articles, to be sold to such ofthe prisoners as possessed the means of paying for them. This tradewas carried on by a very corpulent old woman, known among us by thename of Dame Grant. Her visits, which were made every other day, wereof much benefit to us, and, I presume, a source of profit toherself. She brought us soft bread and fruit, with various otherarticles, such as tea, sugar, etc. , all of which she previously put upinto small paper parcels, from one ounce to a pound in weight, withthe price affixed to each, from which she would never deviate. Thebulk of the old lady completely filled the stern sheets of the boat, where she sat, with her box of goods before her, from which shesupplied us very expeditiously. Her boat was rowed by two boys, whodelivered to us the articles we had purchased, the price of which wewere required first to put into their hands. 

"When our guard was not composed of Refugees, we were usuallypermitted to descend to the foot of the Accommodation-ladder, in orderto select from the boat such articles as we wished. While standingthere it was distressing to see the faces of hundreds of half-famishedwretches, looking over the side of the ship into the boat, without themeans of purchasing the most trifling article before their sight, noteven so much as a morsel of wholesome bread. None of us possessed themeans of generosity, nor had any power to afford them relief. WheneverI bought any articles from the boat I never enjoyed them; for it wasimpossible to do so in the presence of so many needy wretches, eagerlygazing at my purchase, and almost dying for want of it. 

"We frequently furnished Dame Grant with a memorandum of such articlesas we wished her to procure for us, such as pipes, tobacco, needles, thread, and combs. These she always faithfully procured and brought tous, never omitting the assurance that she afforded them exactly atcost. 

"Her arrival was always a subject of interest to us; but at length shedid not make her appearance for several days, and her appearance wasawaited in extreme anxiety. But, alas! we were no longer to enjoy thislittle gratification. Her traffic was ended. She had taken the feverfrom the hulk, and died * * * leaving a void which was neverafterwards filled up. "

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE SUPPLIES FOR THE PRISONERS

"After the death of Dame Grant, we were under the necessity ofpuchasing from the Sutler such small supplies as we needed. This manwas one of the Mates of the ship, and occupied one of the apartmentsunder the quarter-deck, through the bulkhead of which an opening hadbeen cut, from which he delivered his goods. He here kept for sale avariety of articles, among which was usually a supply of ardentspirits, which was not allowed to be brought alongside the ship, forsale. It could, therefore, only be procured from the Sutler, whoseprice was two dollars per gallon. Except in relation to this article, no regular price was fixed for what he sold us. We were first obligedto hand him the money, and he then gave us such a quantity as hepleased of the article which we needed; there was on our part nobargain to be made, but to be supplied even in this manner was, tothose of us who had means of payment, a great convenience. * * *

"Our own people afforded us no relief. O my country! Why were we thusneglected in this hour of our misery, why was not a little food andraiment given to the dying martyrs of thy cause?

"Although the supplies which some of us were enabled to procure fromthe Sutler were highly conducive to our comfort, yet one mostnecessary article neither himself nor any other person couldfurnish. This was wood for our daily cooking, to procure a sufficientquantity of which was to us a source of continual trouble andanxiety. The Cooks would indeed steal small quantities, and sell themto us at the hazard of certain punishment if detected; but it was notin their power to embezzle a sufficient quantity to meet our dailynecessities. As the disgust at swallowing any food which had beencooked in the Great Copper was universal, each person used everyexertion to procure as much wood as possible, for the private cookingof his own mess. 

"During my excursion to the shore to assist in the interment ofMr. Carver, it was my good fortune to find a hogshead stave floatingin 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 themess to which I belonged with a supply of fuel for a considerabletime. 

"I was also truly fortunate on another occasion. I had, one day, commanded the Working-party, which was then employed in taking onboard a sloop-load of wood for the sailors' use. This was carefullyconveyed below, under a guard, to prevent embezzlement. Inevertheless found means, with the assistance of my associates, toconvey a cleft of it into the Gunroom, where it was immediatelysecreted. Our mess was thereby supplied with a sufficient quantity fora long time, and its members were considered by far the most wealthypersons in all this republic of misery. We had enough for our ownuse, and were enabled, occasionally, to supply our neighbors with afew splinters. 

"Our mode of preparing the wood was to cut it with a jack-knife intopieces 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. 

"After a sufficient quantity had been thus prepared for the next day'suse, it was deposited in the chest. The main stock was guarded by dayand night, with the most scrupulous and anxious care. We kept it atnight within our enclosure, and by day it was always watched by someone of its proprietors. So highly did we value it that we went intomathematical calculation to ascertain how long it would supply us, ifa given quantity was each day consumed. "

OUR BY-LAWS

"Soon after the Jersey was first used as a place of confinement a codeof by-laws had been established by the prisoners, for their ownregulation and government; to which a willing submission was paid, sofar as circumstances would permit. I much regret my inability to givethese rules verbatim, but I cannot at this distant period of timerecollect them with a sufficient degree of distinctness. They werechiefly directed to the preservation of personal cleanliness, and theprevention of immorality. For a refusal to comply with any of them, the refractory person was subjected to a stated punishment. It is anastonishing fact that any rules, thus made, should have so longexisted and been enforced among a multitude of men situated as wewere, so numerous and composed of that class of human beings who arenot easily controlled, and usually not the most ardent supporters ofgood order. There were many foreigners among our number, over whom wehad no control, except so far as they chose, voluntarily, to submit toour regulations, which they cheerfully did, in almost every instance, so far as their condition would allow. Among our rules were thefollowing. That personal cleanliness should be preserved, as far aswas practicable; that profane language should be avoided; thatdrunkenness should not be allowed; that theft should be severelypunished, and that no smoking should be permitted between decks, byday or night, on account of the annoyance which it caused the sick. 

"A due observance of the Sabbath was also strongly enjoined; and itwas recommended to every individual to appear cleanly shaved on Sundaymorning, and to refrain from all recreation during the day. 

"This rule was particularly recommended to the attention of theofficers, and the remainder of the prisoners were desired to followtheir example. 

"Our By-laws were occasionally read to the assembled prisoners, andalways whenever any person was to be punished for theirviolation. Theft or fraud upon the allowance of a fellow prisoner wasalways punished, and the infliction was always approved by the wholecompany. On these occasions the oldest officer among the prisonerspresided as Judge. It required much exertion for many of us to complywith the law prohibiting smoking between decks. Being myself muchaddicted to the habit of smoking, it would have been a great privilegeto have enjoyed the liberty of thus indulging it, particularly duringthe night, while sitting by one of the air-ports; but as this wasinadmissible, I of course submitted to the prohibition. * * * We werenot allowed means of striking a fire, and were obliged to procure itfrom the Cook employed for the ship's officers, through a small windowin the bulkhead, near the caboose. After one had thus procured firethe rest were also soon supplied, and our pipes were all in fulloperation in the course of a few minutes. The smoke which rose aroundus appeared to purify the pestilent air by which we were surrounded;and I attribute the preservation of my health, in a great degree, tothe exercise of this habit. Our greatest difficulty was to procuretobacco. This, to some of the prisoners, was impossible, and it musthave been an aggravation to their sufferings to see us apparentlypuffing away our sorrows, while they had no means of procuring theenjoyment of a similar gratification. 

"We dared not often apply at this Cook's caboose for fire, and thesurly wretch would not willingly repeat the supply. One morning I wentto the window of his den, and requested leave to light my pipe, andthe miscreant, without making any reply, threw a shovel full ofburning cinders in my face. I was almost blinded by the pain; andseveral days elapsed before I fully regained my sight. My feelings onthis occasion may be imagined, but redress was impossible, as we wereallowed no means of even seeking it. I mention this occurrence to showto what a wretched condition we were reduced. "

THE ORATOR OF THE JERSEY

"During the period of my confinement the Jersey was never visited byany regular clergyman, nor was Divine service ever performed on board, and among the whole multitude of prisoners there was but oneindividual who ever attempted to deliver a set speech, or to exhorthis fellow sufferers. This individual was a young man named Cooper, whose station in life was apparently that of a common sailor. Heevidently possessed talents of a very high order. His manners werepleasing, and he had every appearance of having received an excellenteducation. He was a Virginian; but I never learned the exact place ofhis 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 bringhim up at last, and the Waleboght be his place of burial. 'The firstof these predictions, ' said he, 'has been verified; and I care not howsoon the second proves equally true, for I am prepared for theevent. Death, for me, has lost its terrors, for with them I have beentoo long familiar. '

"On several Sunday mornings Cooper harangued the prisoners in a veryforcible yet pleasing manner, which, together with his language, madea lasting impression upon my memory. On one of these occasions, havingmounted upon a temporary elevation upon the Spar-deck, he, in anaudible voice, requested the attention of the prisoners, who havingimmediately gathered around him in silence, he commenced hisdiscourse. 

"He began by saying that he hoped no one would suppose he had takenthat station by way of derision or mockery of the holy day, for thatsuch was not his object; on the contrary he was pleased to find thatthe good regulations established by the former prisoners, obliged usto refrain even from recreation on the Sabbath; that his object, however, was not to preach to us, nor to discourse upon any sacredsubject; he wished to read us our By-laws, a copy of which he held inhis hand, the framers of which were then, in all probability, sleepingin death, beneath the sand of the shore before our eyes. That theselaws had been framed in wisdom, and were well fitted to preserve orderand decorum in a community like ours: that his present object was toimpress upon our minds the absolute necessity of a strict adherence tothose wholesome regulations; that he should briefly comment upon eacharticle, which might be thus considered as the particular text of thatpart of his discourse. 

"He proceeded to point out the extreme necessity of a full observanceof these Rules of Conduct, and portrayed the evil consequences whichwould inevitably result to us if we neglected or suffered them to fallinto disuse. He enforced the necessity of our unremitting attention topersonal cleanliness, and to the duties of morality; he dwelt upon thedegradation and sin of drunkeness; described the meanness and atrocityof theft; and the high degree of caution against temptation necessaryfor men who were perhaps standing on the very brink of the grave; andadded that, in his opinion, even sailors might as well refrain fromprofane language, while they were actually suffering in Purgatory. 

"He said that our present torments, in that abode of misery, were aproper retribution for our former sins and transgressions; that Satanhad been permitted to send out his messengers and inferior demons inevery direction to collect us together, and that among the most activeof these infernal agents was David Sproat, Commissary of Prisoners. 

"He then made some just and suitable observations on the fortitudewith which we had sustained the weight of our accumulated miseries; ofour firmness in refusing to accept the bribes of our invaders, anddesert the banners of our country. During this part of his discoursethe sentinels on the gangways occasionally stopped and listenedattentively. We much feared that by some imprudent remark, he mightexpose himself to their resentment, and cautioned him not to proceedtoo far. He replied our keepers could do nothing more, unless theyshould put him to the torture, and that he should proceed. 

"He touched on the fact that no clergyman had ever visited us; thatthis was probably owing to the fear of contagion; but it was much tobe regretted that no one had ever come to afford a ray of hope, or toadminister the Word of Life in that terrific abode; that if anyMinister of the Gospel desired to do so, there could be no obstaclesin the way, for that even David Sproat himself, bad as he was, wouldnot dare to oppose it. 

"He closed with a merited tribute to the memory of ourfellow-sufferers, who had already passed away. 'The time, ' said he, 'will come when their bones will be collected, when their rites ofsepulchre will be performed, and a monument erected over the remainsof those who have here suffered, the victims of barbarity, and whohave died in vindication of the rights of man. '

"The remarks of our Orator were well adapted to our situation, andproduced much effect on the prisoners, who at length began to accosthim as Elder or Parson Cooper. But this he would not allow; and toldus, if we would insist on giving him a title, we might call himDoctor, by which name he was ever afterwards saluted, so long as heremained among us. 

"He had been a prisoner for about the period of three months when oneday the Commissary of Prisoners came on board, accompanied by astranger, and inquired for Cooper, who having made his appearance, aletter was put in his hand, which he perused, and immediately afterleft the ship, without even going below for his clothing. While in theboat he waived his hand, and bade us be of good cheer. We could onlyreturn a mute farewell; and in a few minutes the boat had left theship, and was on its way to New York. 

"Thus we lost our Orator, for whom I had a very high regard, at thetime, and whose character and manners have, ever since, been to me asubject of pleasing recollection. 

"Various were the conjectures which the sudden manner of his departurecaused on board. Some asserted that poor Cooper had drawn upon himselfthe vengeance of old Sproat, and that he had been carried on shore tobe punished. No certain information was ever received respecting him, but I have always thought that he was a member of some highlyinfluential and respectable family, and that his release had beeneffected through the agency of his friends. This was often done bythe influence of the Royalists or Refugees of New York, who weresometimes the connections or personal friends of those who applied fortheir assistance in procuring the liberation of a son or a brotherfrom captivity. Such kind offices were thus frequently rendered tothose who had chosen opposite sides in the great revolutionarycontest, and to whom, though directly opposed to themselves inpolitical proceedings, they were willing to render every personalservice in their power. "

CHAPTER XXXIX

FOURTH OF JULY ON THE JERSEY

A few days before the fourth of July we had made such preparations asour circumstances would admit for an observance of the anniversary ofAmerican Independence. We had procured some supplies with which tomake ourselves merry on the occasion, and intended to spend the day insuch innocent pastimes as our situation would afford, not dreamingthat our proceeding would give umbrage to our keepers, as it was farfrom our intention to trouble or insult them. We thought that, thoughprisoners, we had a right, on that day at least, to sing and bemerry. As soon as we were permitted to go on deck in the morningthirteen little national flags were displayed in a row on the boom. Wewere soon ordered by the guards to take them away; and as we neglectedto obey the command, they triumphantly demolished, and trampled themunder 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, withthe contempt which it merited. 

"During the time we remained on deck several patriotic songs weresung, and choruses repeated; but not a word was intentionally spokento give offence to our guards. They were, nevertheless, evidentlydissatisfied with our proceedings, as will soon appear. Theirmoroseness was a prelude to what was to follow. We were, in a shorttime, forbidden to pass along the common gangway, and every attempt todo so was repelled by the bayonet. Although thus incommoded our mirthstill continued. Songs were still sung, accompanied by occasionalcheers. Things thus proceeded until about four o'clock; when theguards were ordered out, and we received orders to descend betweendecks, where we were immediately driven, at the point of the bayonet. 

"After being thus sent below in the greatest confusion, at that earlyand unusual hour, and having heard the gratings closed and fastenedabove us, we supposed that the barbarous resentment of our guards wasfully satisfied; but we were mistaken, for they had further vengeancein store, and merely waited for an opportunity to make us feel itsweight. 

"The prisoners continued their singing between decks, and were, ofcourse, more noisy than usual, but forbore even under their existingtemptations, to utter any insulting or aggravating expressions. Atleast, I heard nothing of the kind, unless our patriotic songs couldbe thus constructed. In the course of the evening we were ordered todesist from making any further noise. This order not being fullycomplied with, at about nine o'clock the gratings were removed, andthe guards descended among us, with lanterns and drawn cutlasses intheir hands. The poor, helpless prisoners retreated from thehatchways, as far as their crowded situation would permit, while theircowardly assailants followed as far as they dared, cutting andwounding every one within reach, and then ascended to the upper deck, exulting in the gratification of their 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 theircompatriots to afford them the least relief. During the whole of thattragic night, their groans and lamentations were dreadful in theextreme. Being in the Gun-room I was at some distance from theimmediate scene of this bloody outrage, but the distance was by nomeans far enough to prevent my hearing their continual cries from theextremity of pain, their appeals for assistance, and their curses uponthe heads of their brutal assailants. 

"It had been the usual custom for each person to carry below, when hedescended at sunset, a pint of water, to quench his thirst during thenight. But, on this occasion, we had thus been driven to our dungeonthree hours before the setting of the sun, and without our usualsupply 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 ofhours during which we had been crowded together between decks; thefoul atmosphere and sickening heat; the additional excitement andrestlessness caused by the unwonted wanton attack which had been made;above all, the want of water, not a drop of which could be obtainedduring the whole night, to cool our parched lips; the imprecations ofthose who were half distracted with their burning thirst; the shrieksand wails of the wounded; the struggles and groans of the dying;together formed a combination of horrors which no pen can describe. 

"In the agonies of their sufferings the prisoners invited, and evenchallenged their inhuman guards to descend once more among them, butthis they were prudent enough not to attempt. 

"Their cries and supplications for water were terrible, and were ofthemselves sufficient to render sleep impossible. Oppressed with theheat, I found my way to the grating of the main hatchway, where onformer nights I had frequently passed some time, for the benefit ofthe little current of air which circulated through the bars. Iobtained a place on the larboard side of the hatchway, where I stoodfacing the East, and endeavored, as much as possible, to withdraw myattention from the terrible sounds below me, by watching, through thegrating, the progress of the stars. I there spent hour after hour, infollowing with my eyes the motion of a particular star, as it rose andascended until it passed over beyond my sight. 

"How I longed for the day to dawn! At length the morning light beganto appear, but still our torments were increasing every moment. As theusual hour for us to ascend to the upper deck approached, theWorking-party were mustered near the hatchway, and we were allanxiously waiting for the opportunity to cool our weary frames, tobreathe for awhile the pure air, and, above all, to procure water toquench our intolerable thirst. The time arrived, but still thegratings were not removed. Hour after hour passed on, and still wewere not released. Our minds were at length seized with horror, suspicious that our tyrants had determined to make a finishing strokeof their cruelty, and rid themselves of us altogether. 

"It was not until ten o'clock in the forenoon that the gratings wereat last removed. We hurried on deck and thronged to the water cask, which was completely exhausted before our thirst was allayed. So greatwas the struggle around the cask that the guards were again turned outto disperse the crowd. 

"In a few hours, however, we received a new supply of water, but itseemed impossible to allay our thirst, and the applications at thecask 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 foodwhich 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 lastobtained by a change of the guard, who, to our great joy, wererelieved by a party of Hessians. The average number who died during aperiod of 24 hours on board the Jersey was about six, [Footnote: Thiswas in 1782. The mortality had been much greater in former years. ]but on the morning of the fifth of July eight or ten corpses werefound below. Many had been badly wounded, to whom, in the totaldarkness of the night, it was impossible for their companions torender any assistance; and even during the next day they received noattention, except that which was afforded by their fellow prisoners, who had nothing to administer to their companions, not even bandagesfor their wounds. I was not personally acquainted with any of thosewho died or were wounded on that night. No equal number had ever diedin the same period of time since my confinement. This unusualmortality was of course caused by the increased sufferings of thenight. Since that time I have often, while standing on the deck of agood ship under my command, and viewing the rising stars, thought uponthe horrors of that night, when I stood watching their progressthrough the gratings of the Old Jersey, and when I now contrast myformer wretchedness with my present situation, in the full enjoymentof liberty, health, and every earthly comfort, I cannot but muse uponthe contrast, and bless the good and great Being from whom my comfortshave 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 afterlife with a greater degree of contentment than I should, perhaps, haveotherwise ever experienced. "

CHAPTER XL

AN ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE

It had been for some time in contemplation among a few inmates of theGun-room to make a desperate attempt to escape, by cutting a holethrough the stern or counter of the ship. In order that theiroperations might proceed with even the least probability of success, it was absolutely necessary that but few of the prisoners should beadmitted to the secret. At the same time it was impossible for them tomake any progress in their labor unless they first confided their planto all the other occupants of the Gun-room, which was accordinglydone. In this part of the ship each mess was on terms of more or lessintimacy with those whose little sleeping enclosures were immediatelyadjacent to their own, and the members of each mess frequentlyinterchanged good offices with those in their vicinity, and borrowedor lent such little articles as they possessed, like the goodhousewives of a sociable neighborhood. I never knew any contention inthis apartment, during the whole period of my confinement. Eachindividual in the Gun-room therefore was willing to assist hiscomrades, as far as he had the power to do so. When the proposed planfor escape was laid before us, although it met the disapprobation ofby far the greater number, still we were all perfectly ready to assistthose who thought it practicable. We, however, described to them thedifficulties and dangers which must unavoidably attend theirundertaking; the prospect of detection while making the aperture inthe immediate vicinity of such a multitude of idle men, crowdedtogether, a large proportion of whom were always kept awake by theirrestlessness and sufferings during the night; the little probabilitythat they would be able to travel, undiscovered, on Long Island, evenshould they succeed in reaching the shore in safety; and above all, the almost absolute impossibility of obtaining food for theirsubsistence, as an application for that to our keepers would certainlylead to detection. But, notwithstanding all our arguments, a few ofthem remained determined to make the attempt. Their only reply to ourreasoning was, that they must die if they remained, and that nothingworse could befall them if they failed in their undertaking. 

"One of the most sanguine among the adventurers was a young man namedLawrence, the mate of a ship from Philadelphia. He was a member of themess next to my own, and I had formed with him a very intimateacquaintance. He frequently explained his plans to me; and dwelt muchon his hopes. But ardently as I desired to obtain my liberty, andgreat as were the exertions I could have made, had I seen anyprobability of gaining it, yet it was not my intention to join in thisattempt. I nevertheless agreed to assist in the labor of cuttingthrough the planks, and heartily wished, although I had no hope, thatthe enterprise might prove successful. 

"The work was accordingly commenced, and the laborers concealed, byplacing a blanket between them and the prisoners without. The counterof the ship was covered with hard oak plank, four inches thick; andthrough this we undertook to cut an opening sufficiently large for aman to descend; and to do this with no other tools than our jackknives and a single gimlet. All the occupants of the Gun-room assistedin this labor in rotation; some in confidence that the plan waspracticable, and the rest for amusement, or for the sake of beingemployed. Some one of our number was constantly at work, and we thuscontinued, wearing a hole through the hard planks, from seam to seam, until at length the solid oak was worn away piecemeal, and nothingremained but a thin sheathing on the outside which could be cut awayat any time in a few minutes, whenever a suitable opportunity shouldoccur for making the bold attempt to leave the ship. 

"It had been previously agreed that those who should descend throughthe aperture should drop into the water, and there remain until allthose among the inmates of the Gun-room who chose to make the attemptcould join them; and that the whole band of adventurers should thenswim together to the shore, which was about a quarter of a mile fromthe ship. 

"A proper time at length arrived. On a very dark and rainy night, theexterior sheathing was cut away; and at midnight four of our numberhaving disencumbered themselves of their clothes and tied them acrosstheir shoulders, were assisted through the opening, and dropped oneafter another into the water. 

"Ill-fated men! Our guards had long been acquainted with theenterprise. But instead of taking any measures to prevent it, they hadpermitted us to go on with our labor, keeping a vigilant watch for themoment of our projected escape, in order to gratify their bloodthirstywishes. No other motive than this could have prompted them to thecourse which they pursued. A boat was in waiting under the ship'squarter, manned with rowers and a party of the guards. They maintaineda profound silence after hearing the prisoners drop from the opening, until having ascertained that no more would probably descend, theypursued the swimmers, whose course they could easily follow by thesparkling of the water, --an effect always produced by the agitation ofthe waves in a stormy night. 

"We were all profoundly silent in the Gun-room, after the departure ofour companions, and in anxious suspense as to the issue of theadventure. In a few minutes we were startled by the report of a gun, which was instantly succeeded by a quick and scattering fire ofmusketry. In the darkness of the night, we could not see theunfortunate victims, but could distinctly hear their shrieks and criesfor mercy. 

"The noise of the firing had alarmed the prisoners generally, and thereport of the attempted escape and its defeat ran like wildfirethrough the gloomy and crowded dungeons of the hulk, and produced muchcommotion among the whole body of prisoners. In a few moments, thegratings were raised, and the guards descended, bearing a naked andbleeding man, whom they placed in one of the bunks, and having left apiece of burning candle by his side, they again ascended to the deck, and secured the gratings. 

"Information of this circumstance soon reached the Gun-room; andmyself, with several others of our number, succeeded in making our waythrough the crowd to the bunks. The wounded man was my friend, Lawrence. He was severely injured in many places, and one of his armshad been nearly severed from his body by the stroke of acutlass. This, he said, was done in wanton barbarity, while he wascrying for mercy, with his hand on the gunwale of the boat. He was toomuch exhausted to answer any of our questions; and uttered nothingfurther, except a single inquiry respecting the fate of Nelson, one ofhis fellow adventurers. This we could not answer. Indeed, what becameof the rest we never knew. They were probably all murdered in thewater. This was the first time that I had ever seen a light betweendecks. The piece of candle had been left by the side of the bunk, inorder to produce an additional effect upon the prisoners. Many hadbeen suddenly awakened from their slumbers, and had crowded round thebunk where the sufferer lay. The effect of the partial light upon hisbleeding and naked limbs, and upon the pale and haggard countenances, and tattered garments of the wild and crowded groups by whom he wassurrounded, was horrid beyond description. We could render thesufferer but little assistance, being only able to furnish him with afew articles of apparel, and to bind a handkerchief around hishead. His body was completely covered, and his hair filled withclotted blood; we had not the means of washing the gore from hiswounds during the night. We had seen many die, but to view thiswretched man expire in that situation, where he had been placed beyondthe reach of surgical aid, merely to strike us with terror, wasdreadful. 

"The gratings were not removed at the usual hour in the morning, butwe were all kept below until ten o'clock. This mode of punishment hadnow become habitual with our keepers, and we were all frequentlydetained between decks until a late hour in the day, in revenge forthe most trifling occasion. This cruelty never failed to produce thetorments arising from heat and thirst, with all their attendantmiseries. 

"The immediate purpose of our tyrants having been answered by leavingMr. Lawrence below in that situation they promised in the morning thathe should have the assistance of a surgeon, but that promise was notfulfilled. The prisoners rendered him every attention in their power, but in vain. Mortification soon commenced; he became delirious anddied. 

"No inquiry was made by our keepers respecting his situation. Theyevidently left him thus to suffer, in order that the sight of hisagonies might deter the rest of the prisoners from following hisexample. 

"We received not the least reprimand for this transaction. Theaperture was again filled up with plank and made perfectly secure, andno similar attempt to escape was made, --at least so long as I remainedon board. 

"It was always in our power to knock down the guards and throw themoverboard, 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 toimpossible for us to have proceeded any further among the number oftroops there quartered. Of these there were several regiments, andamong them the regiment of Refugees before mentioned, who werevigilant in the highest degree, and would have been delighted at theopportunity of apprehending and returning us to our dungeons. 

"There were, however, several instances of individuals making theirescape. One in particular, I well recollect, --James Pitcher, one ofthe crew of the Chance, was placed on the sick list and conveyed toBlackwell's Island. He effected his escape from thence to Long Island;from whence, after having used the greatest precaution, he contrivedto cross the Sound, and arrived safe at home. He is now one of thethree survivors of 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. 

"Notwithstanding the destroying pestilence which was now raging to adegree hitherto unknown on board, new companies of victims werecontinually arriving; so that, although the mortality was very great, our numbers were increasing daily. Thus situated, and seeing noprospect of our liberty by exchange, we began to despair, and tobelieve that our certain fate was rapidly approaching. 

"One expedient was at length proposed among us and adopted. Wepetitioned General Clinton, who was then in command of the Britishforces at New York, for leave to transmit a Memorial to GeneralWashington, describing our deplorable situation, and requesting hisinterference in our behalf. We further desired that our Memorial mightbe examined by the British General, and, if approved by him, that itmight be carried by one of our own number to General Washington. Ourpetition was laid before the British commander and was granted by theCommissary of Prisoners. We received permission to choose three fromour number, to whom was promised a pass-port, with leave to proceedimmediately on their embassy. 

"Our choice was accordingly made, and I had the satisfaction to findthat two of those elected were from among the former officers of theChance, Captain Aborn and our Surgeon, Mr. Joseph Bowen. 

"The Memorial was soon completed and signed in the name of all theprisoners, by a Committee appointed for that purpose. It contained anaccount of the extreme wretchedness of our condition, and stated thatalthough we were sensible that the subject was one over which GeneralWashington had no direct control, as it was not usual for soldiers tobe exchanged for seamen, and his authority not extending to the MarineDepartment of the American service; yet still, although it might notbe in his power to effect an exchange, we hoped he would be able todevise some means to lighten or relieve our sufferings. 

"Our messengers were further charged with a verbal commission toGeneral Washington, which, for obvious reasons, was not included inthe written Memorial. They were directed to state, in a manner morecircumstantial than we had dared to write, the peculiar horrors of oursituation; to discover the miserable food and putrid water on which wewere doomed to subsist; and finally to assure the General that in casehe could effect our release, we would agree to enter the Americanservice as soldiers, and remain during the war. Thus instructed ourmessengers departed. 

"We waited in alternate hope and fear, the event of theirmission. Most of our number, who were natives of the Eastern States, were strongly impressed with the idea that some means would be devisedfor our relief, after such a representation of our condition should bemade. This class of the prisoners, indeed, felt most interested in thesuccess of the application; for many of the sufferers appeared to givethemselves but little trouble respecting it, and some among theforeigners did not commonly know that such an appeal had been made, orthat it had even been in contemplation. The long endurance of theirprivations had rendered them almost indifferent to their fate, andthey appeared to look forward to death as the only probabletermination of their captivity. 

"In a few days our messengers returned to New York, with a letter fromGeneral Washington, addressed to the Committee of Prisoners who hadsigned the Memorial. The prisoners were all summoned to the Spar-deckwhere this letter was read. Its purport was as follows:--That he hadperused our communication, and had received, with due consideration, the account which our messengers had laid before him; that he viewedour situation with a high degree of interest, and that although ourapplication, as we had stated, was made in relation to a subject overwhich he had no direct control, yet that it was his intention to layour Memorial before Congress; and that, in the mean time, we might beassured that no exertions on his part should be spared which couldtend to a mitigation of our sufferings. 

"He observed to our messengers, during their interview, that our longdetention 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 ofour countrymen to secure and detain their British prisoners for thesake of exchange, many of the British seamen being captured byprivateers, on board which, he understood, it was a common practicefor them to enter as seamen; and that when this was not the case, theywere 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 thatthe officers of the General Government only took charge of thoseseamen who were captured by the vessels in public service. All whichcircumstances combined to render the number of prisoners, at alltimes, by far too small for a regular and equal exchange. 

"General Washington also transmitted to our Committee copies ofletters which he had sent to General Clinton and to the Commissary ofPrisoners, which were also read to us. He therein expressed an ardentdesire that a general exchange of prisoners might be effected; and ifthis could not be accomplished, he wished that something might be doneto lessen the weight of our sufferings, that, if it was absolutelynecessary that we should be confined on the water, he desired that wemight at least be removed to clean ships. He added if the Americansshould be driven to the necessity of placing the British prisoners insituations similar to our own, similar effects must be the inevitableresults; and that he therefore hoped they would afford us bettertreatment from motives of humanity. He concluded by saying, that as acorrespondence on the subject had thus begun between them, he ardentlywished it might eventually result in the liberation of the unfortunatemen whose situation had called for its commencement. 

"Our three messengers did not return on board as prisoners, but wereall to remain on parole at Flatbush, on Long Island. 

"We soon found an improvement in our fare. The bread which we receivedwas of a better quality, and we were furnished with butter, instead ofrancid oil. An awning was provided, and a wind-sail furnished toconduct fresh air between the decks during the day. But of this wewere always deprived at night, when we most needed it, as the gratingsmust always be fastened over the hatchway and I presume that ourkeepers were fearful if it was allowed to run, we might use it as ameans of escape. 

"We were, however, obliged to submit to all our privations, consolingourselves only with the faint hope that the favorable change in oursituation, which we had observed for the last few days, might lead tosomething still more beneficial, although we saw little prospect ofescape from the raging pestilence, except through the immediateinterposition of divine Providence, or by a removal from the scene ofcontagion. "

_Note_. From the _New Jersey Gazette_, July 24th, 1782. "NewLondon. July 21st. We are informed that Sir Guy Carleton has visitedall the prison ships at New York, minutely examined into the situationof the prisoners, and expressed his intention of having them betterprovided for. That they were to be landed on Blackwell's Island, inNew York harbour, in the daytime, during the hot season. "

CHAPTER XLII

THE EXCHANGE

"Soon after Captain Aborn had been permitted to go to Long Island onhis parole, he sent a message on board the Jersey, informing us thathis parole had been extended so far as to allow him to return home, but that he should visit us previous to his departure. He requestedour First Lieutenant, Mr. John Tillinghast, to provide a list of thenames of those captured in the Chance who had died, and also a list ofthe survivors, noting where each survivor was then confined, whetheron board the Jersey, or one of the Hospital ships. 

"He also requested that those of our number who wished to write totheir friends at home, would have their letters ready for delivery tohim, whenever he should come on board. The occupants of the Gun-room, and such of the other prisoners as could procure the necessarymaterials were, therefore, soon busily engaged in writing asparticular descriptions of our situation as they thought it prudent todo, without the risk of the destruction of the letters; as we werealways obliged to submit our writing for inspection previous to itsbeing allowed to pass from the ship. We, however, afterwardsregretted that on this occasion our descriptions were not more minute, as these letters were not examined. 

"The next day Captain Aborn came on board, accompanied by severalother persons, who had also been liberated on parole; but they came nonearer to the prisoners than the head of the gangway-ladder, andpassed through the door of the barricade to the Quarter-deck. This wasperhaps a necessary precaution against the contagion, as they weremore liable to be affected by it than if they had always remained onboard; but we were much disappointed at not having an opportunity tospeak to them. Our letters were delivered to Captain Aborn by ourLieutenant, through whom he sent us assurances of his determination todo everything in his power for our relief, and that if a sufficientnumber of British prisoners could be procured, every survivor of hisvessel's crew should be exchanged; and if this could not be effectedwe might depend upon receiving clothing and such other necessaryarticles as could be sent for our use. 

"About this time some of the sick were sent on shore on Blackwell'sIsland. This was considered a great indulgence. I endeavored to obtainleave to join them by feigning sickness, but did not succeed. 

"The removal of the sick was a great relief to us, as the air was lessfoul between decks, and we had more room for motion. Some of the bunkswere removed, and the sick were carried on shore as soon as theircondition was known. Still, however, the pestilence did not abate onboard, as the weather was extremely warm. In the daytime the heat wasexcessive, but at night it was intolerable. 

"But we lived on hope, knowing that, in all probability, our friendsat home had ere then been apprised of our condition, and that somerelief might perhaps be soon afforded us. 

"Such was our situation when, one day, a short time before sunset, wedescribed a sloop approaching us, with a white flag at her mast-head, and knew, by that signal, that she was a Cartel, and from thedirection in which she came supposed her to be from some of theEastern States. She did not approach near enough to satisfy ourcuriosity, until we were ordered below for the night. 

"Long were the hours of the night to the survivors of our crew. Slightas was the foundation on which our hopes had been raised, we had clungto them as our last resource. No sooner were the gratings removed inthe morning than we were all upon deck, gazing at the Cartel. Her deckwas crowded with men, whom we supposed to be British prisoners. In afew moments they began to enter the Commissary's boats, and proceededto 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 ourtownsman, Captain William Corey, who came on board with the joyfulinformation that the sloop was from Providence with English prisonersto be exchanged for the crew of the Chance. The number which she hadbrought was forty, being more than sufficient to redeem every survivorof our crew then on board the Jersey. 

"I immediately began to prepare for my departure. Having placed thefew articles of clothing which I possessed in a bag (for, by one ofour By-laws, no prisoner, when liberated, could remove his chest) Iproceeded to dispose of my other property on board, and after havingmade sundry small donations of less value, I concluded by giving mytin kettle to one of my friends, and to another the remnant of mycleft of firewood. 

"I then hurried to the upper deck, in order to be ready to answer tomy name, well knowing that I should hear no second call, and that nodelay would be allowed. 

"The Commissary and Captain Corey were standing together on theQuarter-deck; and as the list of names was read, our Lieutenant, Mr. Tillinghast, was directed to say whether the person called was oneof the crew of the Chance. As soon as this assurance was given, theindividual was ordered to pass down the Accommodation ladder into theboat. Cheerfully was the word 'Here!' responded by each survivor ashis name was called. My own turn at length came, and the Commissarypointed to the boat. I never moved with a lighter step, for thatmoment was the happiest of my life. In the excess and overflowing ofmy joy, I even forgot, for awhile, the detestable character of theCommissary himself, and even, Heaven forgive me! bestowed a bow uponhim as I passed. 

"We took our stations in the boat in silence. No congratulations wereheard among us. Our feelings were too deep for utterance. For my ownpart, I could not refrain from bursting into tears of joy. 

"Still there were moments when it seemed impossible that we were inreality without the limits of the Old Jersey. We dreaded the idea thatsome unforeseen event might still detain us; and shuddered with theapprehension that we might yet be returned to our dungeons. 

"When the Cartel arrived the surviving number of our crew on board theOld Jersey was but thirty-five. This fact being well known toMr. Tillinghast, and finding that the Cartel had brought fortyprisoners, he allowed five of our comrades in the Gun-room to answerto the names of the same number of our crew who had died; and havingdisguised them in the garb of common seamen, they passed unsuspected. 

"It was nearly sunset when we had all arrived on board the Cartel. Nosooner had the exchange been completed than the Commissary left us, with our prayers that we might never behold him more. I then cast myeyes towards the hulk, as the horizontal rays of the sunset glanced onher polluted sides, where, from the bend upwards, filth of everydescription had been permitted to accumulate for years; and thefeeling of disgust which the sight occasioned was indescribable. Themultitude on her Spar-deck and Fore-castle were in motion, and in theact of descending for the night; presenting the same appearance thatmet my sight when, nearly five months before, I had, at the same hour, approached her as a prisoner. "

It appears that many other seamen on board the Jersey and the Hospitalships were exchanged as a good result of the Memorial addressed toGeneral Washington. An issue of the _Royal Gazette_ of New York, published on the 17th of July, 1782, contains the following statement:

"The following is a Statement of the Navy Prisoners who have, withinthe last few days, been exchanged and brought to this city, viz:

"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 worldin this _Gazette_, dated July 3rd, the real state and conditionof their countrymen, prisoners here, and the true cause of theirdurance and sufferings, we are informed was greatly conducive to thebringing this exchange into a happy effect. We have only to lamentthat the endeavors of those who went, for the same laudable purpose, to Philadelphia, have not hitherto been so fortunate. "

This was published before the release of Captain Dring and the crew ofthe Chance, and shows that they were not the only prisoners who wereso happy as to be exchanged that summer. It is possible that the crewof the Chance is referred to in this extract from the _PennsylvaniaPacket_, Philadelphia, Thursday, August 15th, 1782: "Providence, July 27th. Sunday last 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 makingthe details of our sufferings publicly known; and a feeling of deepcommiseration was excited among our fellow citizens. Messrs. Clarkeand Nightingale, the former owners of the Chance, in conjunction withother gentlemen, expressed their determination to spare no exertion orexpense necessary to procure our liberty. It was found that fortyBritish prisoners were at that time in Boston. These were immediatelyprocured, and marched to Providence, where a sloop owned and commandedby a Captain Gladding of Bristol was chartered, to proceed with theprisoners forthwith to New York, that they might be exchanged for anequal number of our crew. Captain Corey was appointed as an Agent toeffect the exchange, and to receive us from the Jersey; and havingtaken on board a supply of good provisions and water, he hastened toour relief. He received much assistance in effecting his object fromour townsman, Mr. John Creed, at that time Deputy Commissary ofPrisoners. I do not recollect the exact day of our deliverance, butthink it was early in the month of October * * * We were obliged topass near the shore of Blackwell's Island, where were several of ourcrew, who had been sent on shore among the sick. They had learned thatthe Cartel had arrived from Providence for the purpose of redeemingthe crew of the Chance, and expected to be taken on board. Seeing usapproaching they had, in order to cause no delay, prepared for theirdeparture, and stood together on the shore, with their bundles intheir hands; but, to their unutterable disappointment and dismay, theysaw us pass by. We knew them and bitterly did we lament the necessityof leaving them behind. We could only wave our hands as we passed; butthey could not return the salutation, and stood as if petrified withhorror, like statues fixed immovably to the earth, until we hadvanished from their sight. 

"I have since seen and conversed with one of these unfortunate men, who afterwards made his escape. He informed me that their removalfrom the Jersey to the Island was productive of the most beneficialeffects upon their health, and that they had been exulting at theimprovement of their condition; but their terrible disappointmentoverwhelmed them with despair. They then considered their fateinevitable, believing that in a few days they must again be conveyedon board the hulk; there to undergo all the agonies of a seconddeath. * * * Several of our crew were sick when we entered the Cartel, and the sudden change of air and diet caused some new cases offever. One of our number, thus seized by the fever, was a young mannamed Bicknell of Barrington, R. I. He was unwell when we left theJersey, and his symptoms indicated the approaching fever; and when weentered Narragansett Bay, he was apparently dying. Being informed thatwe were in the Bay he begged to be taken on deck, or at least to thehatchway, that he might look once more upon his native land. He saidthat he was sensible of his condition; that the hand of death was uponhim; but that he was consoled by the thought that he should bedecently interred, and be suffered to rest among his friends andkindred. I was astonished at the degree of resignation and composurewith which he spoke. He pointed to his father's house, as weapproached it, and said it contained all that was dear to him uponearth. He requested to be put on shore. 

"Our Captain was intimately acquainted with the family of thesufferer; and as the wind was light we dropped our anchor, andcomplied with his request. He was placed in the boat, where I took aseat by his side; in order to support him; and, with two boys at theoars, we left the sloop. In a few minutes his strength began rapidlyto fail. He laid his fainting head upon my shoulder, and said he wasgoing to the shore to be buried with his ancestors; that this had longbeen his ardent desire, and that God had heard his prayers. No soonerhad we touched the shore than one of the boys was sent to inform hisfamily of the event. They hastened to the boat to receive their longlost son and brother, but we could only give them his yet warm andlifeless corpse. "

OUR ARRIVAL HOME

"After remaining a few moments with the friends of our deceasedcomrade we returned to the sloop and proceeded up the river. It wasabout eight o'clock in the evening when we reached Providence. Therewere no quarantine regulations to detain us; but, as the yellow feverwas raging among us, we took the precaution to anchor in the middle ofthe stream. It was a beautiful moonlit evening, and the intelligenceof our arrival having spread through the town, the nearest wharf wasin a short time crowded with people drawn together by curiosity, and adesire for information relative to the fate of their friends andconnections. 

"Continual inquiries were made from the anxious crowd on the landrespecting the condition of several different individuals on board. Atlength the information was given that some of our number were below, sick with the yellow fever. No sooner was this fact announced than thewharf was totally deserted, and in a few moments not a human beingremained in sight. The Old Jersey fever as it was called, was wellknown throughout the whole country. All were acquainted with itsterrible effects; and it was shunned as if its presence were certaindestruction. 

"After the departure of the crowd, the sloop was brought alongside thewharf, and every one who could walk immediately sprang on shore. Sogreat was the dread of the pestilence, and so squalid and emaciatedwere the figures which we presented, that those among us whosefamilies did not reside in Providence found it almost impossible togain admittance into any dwelling. There being at that time nohospital in or near the town, and no preparations having been made forthe reception of the sick, they were abandoned for that night. Theywere, however, supplied in a few hours with many small articlesnecessary for their immediate comfort, by the humane people in thevicinity of the wharf. The friends of the sick who belonged in thevicinity of the town were immediately informed of our arrival, and inthe course of the following day these were removed from thevessel. For the remainder of the sufferers ample provision was madethrough the generous exertions of Messrs. Clarke and Nightingale. 

"Solemn indeed are the reflections which crowd upon my mind as Ireview the events which are here recorded. Forty-two years have passedaway since this remnant of our ill-fated crew were thus liberated fromtheir 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 officersI alone remain. "

CHAPTER XLIV

CORRESPONDENCE OF WASHINGTON AND OTHERS

General Washington cannot with justice be blamed for any part of thesufferings inflicted upon the naval prisoners on board the prisonships. Although he had nothing whatever to do with the American Navy, or the crews of privateers captured by the British, yet he exertedhimself in every way open to him to endeavor to obtain their exchange, or, at least, a mitigation of their sufferings, and this in spite ofthe immense weight of cares and anxieties that devolved upon him inhis conduct of the war. Much of his correspondence on the subject ofthese unfortunate prisoners has been given to the world. We deem itnecessary, in a work of this character, to reproduce some of it here, not only because this correspondence is his most perfect vindicationfrom the charge of neglect that has been brought against him, but alsobecause it has much to do with the proper understanding of thischronicle. 

One of the first of the letters from which we shall quote was writtenby Washington from his headquarters to Admiral Arbuthnot, thenstationed at New York, on the 25th of January 1781. 

Sir:

Through a variety of channels, representations of too serious a natureto be disregarded have come to us, that the American naval prisonersin the harbor of New York are suffering all the extremity of distress, from a too crowded and in all respects disagreeable and unwholesomesituation, on board the Prison-ships, and from the want of food andother necessaries. The picture given us of their sufferings is trulycalamitous and deplorable. If just, it is the obvious interest of bothparties, omitting the plea of humanity, that the causes should bewithout delay inquired into and removed; and if false, it is equallydesirable that effectual measures should be taken to obviatemisapprehensions. This can only be done by permitting an officer, ofconfidence on both sides, to visit the prisoners in their respectiveconfinements, and to examine into their true condition. This willeither at once satisfy you that by some abuse of trust in the personsimmediately charged with the care of the prisoners, their treatment isreally such as has been described to us and requires a change; or itwill convince us that the clamors are ill-grounded. A disposition toaggravate the miseries of captivity is too illiberal to be imputed toany but those subordinate characters, who, in every service, are toooften remiss and unprincipled. This reflection assures me that youwill acquiesce in the mode proposed for ascertaining the truth anddetecting delinquency on one side, or falsehood on the other. Thediscussions and asperities which have had too much place on thesubject of prisoners are so irksome in themselves, and have had somany ill consequences, that it is infinitely to be wished that theremay be no room given for reviving them. The mode I have suggestedappears to me calculated to bring the present case to a fair, direct, and satisfactory issue. I am not sensible of any inconvenience it canbe attended with, and I therefore hope for your concurrence. 

I should be glad, as soon as possible, to hear from you on thesubject. 

I have the honor to be, etc. , George Washington. 

To this letter, written in January, Admiral Arbuthnot did not replyuntil the latter part of April. He then wrote:

Royal Oak OfficeApril 2lst. 1781. 

Sir:

If I had not been very busy when I received your letter dated the 25of Jan. Last, complaining of the treatment of the naval prisoners atthis place, I certainly should have answered it before this time; and, notwithstanding that I then thought, as I now do, that my owntestimony would have been sufficient to put the truth past a doubt, Iordered the strictest scrutiny to be made into the condition of allparties concerned in the victualling and treatment of thoseunfortunate people. Their several testimonies you must have seen, andI give you my honor that the transaction was conducted with suchstrict care and impartiality that you may rely on its validity. 

Permit me now, Sir, to request that you will take the proper steps tocause Mr. Bradford, your Commissary, and the Jailor at Philadelphia, to abate the inhumanity which they exercise indiscriminately upon allpeople who are so unfortunate as to be carried into that place. 

I will not trouble you, Sir, with a catalogue of grievances, furtherthan to request that the unfortunate may feel as little of theseverities of war as the circumstances of the time will permit, thatin future they may not be fed in winter with salted clams, and thatthey may be afforded a sufficiency of fuel. 

I am, Sir, your most obdt and hble srvtM. Arbuthnot. 

Probably the American prisoners would have been glad to eat saltedclams, rather than diseased pork, and, as has been shown, they weresometimes frozen to death on board the prison ships, where no fireexcept for cooking purposes seems ever to have been allowed. 

In August, 1781, a committee appointed by Congress to examine into thecondition 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 Americanprisoners in the power of the enemy report:

"That they have collected together and cursorily looked into variousevidences of the treatment our unhappy fellow-citizens, prisoners withthe enemy, have heretofore and do still meet with, and find thesubject of so important and serious a nature as to demand much greaterattention, and fuller consideration than the present distant situationof those confined on board the Prison-ships at New York will now admitof, wherefor they beg leave to make a partial representation, anddesire leave to sit again. * * *"

PART OF THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE

"A very large number of marine prisoners and citizens of these UnitedStates taken by the enemy, are now closely confined on boardPrison-ships in the harbor of New York. 

"That the said Prison-ships are so unequal in size to the number ofprisoners, as not to admit of a possibility of preserving life in thiswarm season of the year, they being crowded together in such a manneras to be in danger of suffocation, as well as exposed to every kind ofputrid, pestilential disorder:

"That no circumstances of the enemy's particular situation can justifythis outrage on humanity, it being contrary to the usage and customsof civilizations, thus deliberately to murder their captives in coldblood, as the enemy will not assert that Prison-ships, equal to thenumber of prisoners, cannot be obtained so as to afford roomsufficient for the necessary purposes of life:

"That the enemy do daily improve these distresses to enlist and compelmany of our citizens to enter on board their ships of war, and thus tofight against their fellow citizens, and dearest connections. 

"That the said Marine prisoners, until they can be exchanged should besupplied with such necessaries of clothing and provisions as can beobtained to mitigate their present sufferings. 

"That, therefor, the Commander-in-chief be and he is hereby instructedto remonstrate to the proper officer within the enemy's lines, on thesaid unjustifiable treatment of our Marine prisoners, and demand, inthe most express terms, to know the reasons of this unnecessaryseverity towards them; and that the Commander-in-chief transmit suchanswer as may be received thereon to Congress, that decided measuresfor due retaliation may be adopted, if a redress of these evils be notimmediately given. 

"That the Commander-in-chief be and he is hereby also instructed todirect to supply the said prisoners with such provisions and lightclothing for their present more comfortable subsistence as may be inhis power to obtain, and in such manner as he may judge mostadvantageous for the United States. "

Accordingly Washington wrote to the officer then commanding at NewYork, Commodore Affleck, as follows:

Headquarters, August 21 1781

Sir:

The almost daily complaints of the severities exercised towards theAmerican marine prisoners in New York have induced the Hon. TheCongress of the United States to direct me to remonstrate to thecommanding officer of his British Majesty's ships of war in the harborupon the subject; and to report to them his answer. The principalcomplaint now is, the inadequacy of the room in the Prison-ships tothe number of prisoners, confined on board of them, which causes thedeath of many, and is the occasion of most intolerable inconvenienceand distresses to those who survive. This line of conduct is the moreaggravating, as the want of a greater number of Prison-ships, or ofsufficient room on shore, can hardly be pleaded in excuse. 

As a bare denial of what has been asserted by so many individuals whohave unfortunately experienced the miseries I have mentioned, will notbe satisfactory, I have to propose that our Commissary-general ofprisoners, or any other officer, who shall be agreed upon, shall haveliberty to visit the ships, inspect the situation of the prisoners, and make a report, from an exact survey of the situation in which theymay be found, whether, in his opinion, there has been any just causeof complaint. 

I shall be glad to be favored with an answer as soon as convenient. 

I have the honor to beyr most obdt srvtGeorge Washington

AFFLECK'S REPLY

New York 30 August 1781

Sir:

I intend not either to deny or to assert, for it will neitherfacilitate business, nor alleviate distress. The subject of yourletter seems to turn on two points, namely the inconvenience anddistresses which the American prisoners suffer from the inadequacy ofroom in the Prison-ships, which occasions the death of many of them, as you are told; and that a Commissary-general of prisoners from youshould have liberty to visit the ships, inspect the situation of theprisoners, and make a report from an actual survey. I take leave toassure you that I feel for the distresses of mankind as much as anyman; and since my commission to the naval command of the department, one of my principal endeavors has been to regulate the Prison andhospital ships. 

The Government having made no other provision for naval prisoners thanshipping, it is impossible that the greater inconvenience which peopleconfined on board ships experience beyond those confined on shore canbe avoided, and a sudden accumulation of people often aggravates theevil. 

But I assure you that every attention is shown that is possible, andthat the Prison-ships are under the very same Regulations here thathave been constantly observed towards the prisoners of all nations inEurope. Tables of diet are publicly affixed; officers visit everyweek, redress and report grievances, and the numbers are thinned asthey can provide shipping, and no attention has been wanting. 

The latter point cannot be admitted to its full extent; but if youthink fit to send an officer of character to the lines for thatpurpose, he will be conducted to me, and he shall be accompanied by anofficer, and become a witness to the manner in which we treat theprisoners, and I shall expect to have my officer visit the prisonersdetained in your jails and dungeons in like manner, as well as in themines, where I am informed many an unhappy victim languishes out hisdays. I must remark, had Congress ever been inclined, they might havecontributed to relieve the distress of those whom we are under thenecessity of holding as prisoners, by sending in all in theirpossession towards the payment of the large debt they owe us on thathead, which might have been an inducement towards liberating many nowin captivity. I have the honor to be, Sir, with due respect, etc, Edmund Affleck

Much correspondence passed between the English and AmericanCommissaries of Prisoners, as well as between Washington and thecommanding officer at New York on the subject of the naval prisoners, but little good seems to have been effected thereby until late in thewar, when negotiations for peace had almost progressed to a finish. Wehave seen that, in the summer of 1782, the hard conditions on boardthe prison ships were in some measure mitigated, and that the sickwere sent to Blackwell's Island, where they had a chance for life. Wemight 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, butthe conclusion of the whole matter was eloquently written in the sandsof the Wallabout, where the corpses of thousands of victims to Britishcruelty lay for so many years. We will therefore give only a fewfurther extracts from the correspondence and reports on the subject, as so much of it was tedious and barren of any good result. 

In December of the year 1781 Washington, on whom the duty devolved ofwriting so many of the letters, and receiving so many insultingreplies, wrote to the President of Congress as follows:

"I have taken the liberty of enclosing the copies of two letters fromthe Commissary-general of Prisoners setting forth the debt which isdue from us on account of naval prisoners; the number remaining incaptivity, their miserable situation, and the little probability thereis of procuring their release for the want of proper subjects in ourhands. 

"Before we proceed into an inquiry into the measures that ought to beadopted to enable us to pay our debt, and to affect the exchange ofthose who still remain in captivity, a matter which it may take sometime to determine, humanity and policy point out the necessity ofadministering to the pressing wants of a number of the most valuablesubjects of the republic. 

"Had they been taken in the Continental service, I should have thoughtmyself authorized in conjunction with the Minister of War to apply aremedy, but as the greater part of them were not thus taken, asappears by Mr. Skinner's representation, I must await the decision ofCongress upon the subject. 

"Had a system, some time ago planned by Congress and recommended tothe several States, been adopted and carried fully into execution, Imean that of obliging all Captains of private vessels to deliver overtheir prisoners to the Continental Commissioners upon certainconditions, I am persuaded that the numbers taken and brought into themany ports of the United States would have amounted to a sufficiencyto have exchanged those taken from us; but instead of that, it is tobe feared, that few in proportion were secured, and that the few whoare sent in, are so partially applied, that it creates great disgustin those remaining. The consequence of which is, that conceivingthemselves neglected, and seeing no prospect of relief, many of thementered into the enemy's service, to the very great loss of ourtrading interest. Congress will, therefore, I hope, see the necessityof renewing their former, or making some similar recommendation to theStates. 

"In addition to the motives above mentioned, for wishing that thewhole business of prisoners of war might be brought under one generalregulation, there is another of no small consideration, which is, thatit would probably put a stop to those mutual complaints of illtreatment which are frequently urged on each part. For it is a factthat, for above two years, we have had no occasion to complain of thetreatment of the Continental land prisoners in New York, neither havewe been charged with any improper conduct towards those in ourhands. I consider the sufferings of the seamen, for some time past, asarising in great measure from the want of that general regulationwhich has been spoken of, and without which there will constantly be agreat number remaining in the hands of the enemy. * * *"

Again in February of the year 1782 Washington wrote to Congress fromPhiladelphia as follows:

Feb. 18, 1782. 

* * * "Mr. Sproat's proposition of the exchange of British soldiers forAmerican seamen, if acceded to, will immediately give the enemy a veryconsiderable re-enforcement, and will be a constant draft hereafterupon the prisoners of war in our hands. It ought also to be consideredthat few or none of the Continental naval prisoners in New York orelsewhere belong to the Continental service. I, however, feel for thesituation of these unfortunate people, and wish to see them relievedby any mode, which will not materially affect the public good. In someformer letters upon this subject I have mentioned a plan, by which Iam certain they might be liberated nearly as fast as they arecaptured. It is by obliging the Captains of all armed vessels, bothpublic and private, to throw their prisoners into common stock, underthe direction of the Commissary-general of prisoners. By this meansthey would be taken care of, and regularly applied to the exchange ofthose in the hands of the enemy. Now the greater part are dissipated, and the few that remain are applied partially. * * *"

James Rivington edited a paper in New York during the Revolution, and, in 1782, the American prisoners on board the Jersey addressed a letterto him for publication, which is given below. 

"On Board the Prison-ship Jersey, June 11, 1782. 

"Sir:

Enclosed are five letters, which if you will give a place in yournewspaper will greatly oblige a number of poor prisoners who seem tobe deserted by our own countrymen, who has it in their power, and willnot exchange us. In behalf of the whole we beg leave to subscribeourselves, Sir, yr much obliged srvts, "John Cooper"John Sheffield"William Chad"Richard Eccleston"John Baas"

ENCLOSURES OF THE FOREGOING LETTER

David Sproat, Commissary of Prisoners, to the prisoners on board theJersey, New York. 

"June 11 1782

"This will be handed you by Captain Daniel Aborn, and Dr, JosephBowen, who, agreeable to your petition to his Excellency, Rear-AdmiralDigby, have been permitted to go out, and are now returned fromGeneral Washington's Head-quarters, where they delivered your petitionto him, representing your disagreeable situation at this extreme hotseason of the year, and in your names solicited his Excellency togrant your speedy relief, by exchanging you for a part of the British_soldiers_ in his hands, the only possible means in his power toeffect it. Mr. Aborn and the Doctor waits on you with his answer, which I am sorry to say is a flat denial. 

"Enclosed I send you copies of three letters which have passed betweenMr. Skinner and me, on the occasion, which will convince you thateverything has been done on the part of Admiral Digby, to bring abouta fair and general exchange of prisoners on both sides. I am

"your most hble Srvt, "David Sproat"Comm. Gen. For Naval Prisoners. "

ENCLOSURES SENT BY D. SPROAT

David Sproat to Abraham Skinner, American Commissaryof Prisoners. 

New York lst June 1782

"Sir:

"When I last saw you at Elizabeth Town I mentioned the badconsequences which, in all probability, would take place in the hotweather if an exchange of prisoners was not agreed to by thecommissioners on the part of General Washington. His ExcellencyRear-Admiral Digby has ordered me to inform you, that the very greatincrease of prisoners and heat of the weather now baffles all our careand attention to keep them healthy. Five ships have been taken up fortheir reception, to prevent being crowded, and a great numberpermitted to go on parole. 

"In Winter, and during the cold weather, they lived comfortably, beingfully supplied with warm cloathing, blankets, etc, purchased with themoney which I collected from the charitable people of this city; butnow the weather requires a fresh supply--something light and suitablefor the season--for which you will be pleased to make the necessaryprovision, as it is impossible for them to be healthy in the rags theynow wear, without a single shift of cloathing to keep themselvesclean. Humanity, sympathy, my duty and orders obliges me to troubleyou again on this disagreeable subject, to request you will lose notime in laying their situation before his Excellency GeneralWashington, who, I hope, will listen to the cries of a distressedpeople, and grant them, (as well as the British prisoners in hishands) relief, by consenting to a general and immediate exchange. 

"I am, sir, etc, "David Sproat. "

It is scarcely necessary to point out to the intelligent reader theinconsistencies in this letter. The comfortable prisoners, abundantlysupplied with blankets and clothing in the winter by the charity ofthe citizens of New York, were so inconsiderate as to go on starvingand freezing to death throughout that season. Not only so, but theirabundant supply of clothing was reduced to tattered rags in asurprisingly short time, and they were unable to be healthy, "withouta single shift of clothing to keep themselves clean. "

We have already seen to what straits they were in reality reduced, inspite of the private charity of the citizens of New York. We do notdoubt that the few blankets and other new clothing, if any such wereever sent on board the Jersey, were the gifts of private charity, andnot the donation of the British Government. 

No one, we believe, can blame General Washington for his unwillingnessto add to the British forces arrayed against his country by exchangingthe captured troops in the hands of the Americans for the crews ofAmerican privateers, who were not in the Continental service. As wehave already seen, the blame does not rest with that great commander, whose compassion never blinded his judgment, but with the captains andowners of American privateers themselves, and often with the towns ofNew England, who were unwilling to burden themselves with prisonerstaken on the ocean. 

The next letter we will quote is the answer of Commissary Skinner toDavid Sproat:

"New York June 9th. 1782

"Sir:

From the present situation of the American naval prisoners on boardyour prison-ships, I am induced to propose to you the exchange of asmany as I can give you British naval prisoners for, leaving thebalance already due you to be paid when in our power. I could wishthis to be represented to his Excellency, Rear Admiral Digby, and thatthe proposal could be acceded to, as it would relieve many of thesedistrest men and be consistent with the humane purposes of our office. 

"I will admit that we are unable at present to give you seaman forseaman, and thereby relieve the prison-ships of their dreadfulburthen, but it ought to be remembered there is a large balance ofBritish soldiers due to the United States, since February last, andthat as we have it in our power we may be disposed to place theBritish soldiers who are now in our possession in as disagreeable asituation as those men are on board the prison ships. 

"I am yr obdt hble srvt"Abraham Skinner"

COMMISSARY SPROAT'S REPLY

"New York June 9th 1782

"Sir:

"I have received your letter of this date and laid it before hisExcellency Rear Admiral Digby, Commander in charge, etc, who hasdirected me to give for answer that the balance of prisoners, owing tothe British having proceeded, from lenity and humanity, on the part ofhimself and those who commanded before his arrival, is surprized youhave not been induced to offer to exchange them first; and until thisis done can't consent to your proposal of a partial exchange, leavingthe remainder as well as the British prisoners in your hands, tolinger in confinement. Conscious of the American prisoners under mydirection, being in every respect taken as good care of as theirsituation and ours will admit. You must not believe that Admiral Digbywill depart from the justice of this measure because you have it inyour power to make the British prisoners with you more miserable thanthere is any necessity for. I am, Sir, "yr hble servt"David Sproat. "

The prisoners on board the Jersey published in the _RoyalGazette_ the following

ADDRESS TO THEIR COUNTRYMEN

"Prison Ship Jersey, June 11th 1782

"Friends and Fellow Citizens of America:

"You may bid a final adieu to all your friends and relatives who arenow on board the Jersey prison ships at New York, unless you rouse thegovernment to comply with the just and honorable proposals, which hasalready been done on the part of Britons, but alas! it is with pain weinform you, that our petition to his Excellency General Washington, offering our services to the country during the present campaign, ifhe would send soldiers in exchange for us, is frankly denied. 

"What is to be done? Are we to lie here and share the fate of ourunhappy brothers who are dying daily? No, unless you relieve usimmediately, we shall be under the necessity of leaving our country, in preservation of our lives. 

"Signed in behalf of prisoners

"John Cooper"John Sheffield"William Chad"Richard Eccleston"George Wanton"John Baas. 

"To Mr James Rivington, Printer N. Y. "

This address was reproduced in Hugh Gaines's _New York Gazette_, June 17, 1782. 

Whether the John Cooper who signed his name to this address is theMr. Cooper mentioned by Dring as the orator of the Jersey we do notknow, but it is not improbable. Nine Coopers are included in the list, given in the appendix to this volume, of prisoners on the Jersey, butno John Cooper is among them. The list is exceedingly imperfect. Ofthe other signers of the address only two, George Wanton and JohnSheffield, can be found within its pages. It is very certain that itis incomplete, and it probably does not contain more than half thenames of the prisoners who suffered on board that dreadfulplace. David Sproat won the hatred and contempt of all the Americanprisoners who had anything to do with him. One of his most dastardlyacts was the paper which he drew up in June, 1782, and submitted to anumber of American sea captains for their signature, which he obtainedfrom them by threats of taking away their parole in case of theirrefusal, and sending them back to a captivity worse than death. Thispaper, _which they signed without reading_ was to the followingeffect:

LETTER PURPORTING TO BE FROM A COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS, NAVAL PRISONERSOF WAR TO J. RIVINGTON, WITH A REPRESENTATION OF A COMMITTEE ON THECONDITION OF THE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY

New York, June 22, 1782. 

Sir:

We beg you will be pleased to give the inclosed Report and Resolve ofa number of Masters of American Vessels, a place in your nextNewspaper, for the information of the public. In order to undeceivenumbers of our countrymen without the British lines, who have not hadan opportunity of seeing the state and situation of the prisoners ofNew York as we have done. We are, Sir, yr most obdt, hble srvts, Robert Harris, Captain of the sloop IndustryJohn ChaceCharles Collins, Captain of the Sword-fishPhilemon HaskellJonathan Carnes

REPORT

We whose names are hereunto subscribed, late Masters of Americanvessels, which have been captured by the British cruisers and broughtinto this port, having obtained the enlargement of our paroles fromAdmiral Digby, to return to our respective homes, being anxious beforeour departure to know the true state and situation of the prisonersconfined on board the prison ships and hospital ships for thatpurpose, have requested and appointed six of our number, viz, R. Harris, J. Chace, Ch. Collins, P. Haskell, J. Carnes andChristopher Smith, to go on board the said prison ships for thatpurpose and the said six officers aforesaid having gone on board fiveof the vessels, attended by Mr. D. Sproat, Com. Gen. For NavalPrisoners, and Mr. George Rutherford, Surgeon to the hospital ships, do report to us that they have found them in as comfortable asituation as it is possible for prisoners to be on board of ships atthis season of the year, and much more so than they had any idea of, and that anything said to the contrary is false and withoutfoundation. That they inspected their beef, pork, flour, bread, oatmeal, pease, butter, liquors, and indeed every species ofprovisions which is issued on board his British Majesty's ships ofwar, and found them all good of their kind, which survey being madebefore the prisoners, they acknowledged the same and declared they hadno complaint to make but the want of cloaths and a speedy exchange. Wetherefore from this report and what we have all seen and known, _DoDeclare_ that great commendation is due to his Excellency RearAdmiral Digby, for his humane disposition and indulgence to hisprisoners, and also to those he entrusts the care of them to; viz: Tothe Captain and officers of his Majesty's prison-ship Jersey, fortheir attention in preserving good order, having the ship kept cleanand awnings spread over _the whole_ of her, fore and aft: To DrRutherford, and the Gentlemen acting under him * * *, for theirconstant care and attendance on the sick, whom we found in wholesome, clean sheets, also covered with awnings, fore and aft, every manfurnished 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 declarein justice to Mr. Sproat, and the gentlemen acting under him in hisdepartment, that they conscientiously do their duty with greathumanity and indulgence to the prisoners, and reputation tothemselves; And we unanimously do agree that nothing is wanting topreserve the lives and health of those unfortunate prisoners but cleancloaths and a speedy exchange, which testimony we freely give withoutrestriction and covenant each with the other to endeavor to effecttheir exchange as soon as possible:

For the remembrance of this our engagement we have furnished ourselveswith copies of this instrument of writing. Given under our hands inNew York the 22 of June, 1782. 

Signed:

Robert HarrisJohn ChaceCharles CollinsPhilemon Haskell]. CarnesChristopher SmithJames GastonJohn TannerDaniel AbornRichard MumfordRobert CliftonJohn McKeeverDr. J. Bowen. 

The publication of this infamously false circular roused muchindignation among patriotic Americans, and no one believed it atrustworthy statement. The _Independent Chronicle_, in its issuefor August, 1782, had the following refutation: [Footnote: This letteris said to have been written by Captain Manly, _five times_ aprisoner during the Revolution. ]

"Mr Printer:

"Happening to be at Mr. Bracket's tavern last Saturday, and hearingtwo gentlemen conversing on the surprising alteration in regard to thetreatment our prisoners met with in New York, and as I have had themisfortune to be more than once a prisoner in England, and indifferent prison-ships in New York, and having suffered everything butdeath, I cannot help giving all attention to anything I hear or readrelative to the treatment our brave countrymen met with on board theprison-ships of New York. One of the gentlemen observed that thetreatment of our prisoners must certainly be much better, as so manyof our commanders had signed a paper that was wrote by Mr. DavidSproat, the commissary of naval prisoners in New York. The othergentleman answered and told him he could satisfy him in regard to thematter, having seen and conversed with several of the Captains thatsigned Mr. Sproat's paper, who told him that, although they had puttheir names to the paper that Mr. Sproat sent them on Long Island, where they were upon parole, yet it was upon these conditions they didit: in order to have leave to go home to their wives and families, andnot be sent on board the prison-ships, as Mr. Sproat had threatened todo if they refused to sign the paper that he sent them. These captainsfurther said, that they did not read the paper nor hear it read. Thegentleman then asked them how they could sign their names to a paperthey did not read; they said it was because they might go home uponparole. He asked one of them why he did not contradict it since it hadappeared in the public papers, and was false: he said he dare not atpresent, 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 doit. If this gentleman, through fear, dare not contradict such a pieceof falsehood, I dare, and if I was again confined on board theprison-ship in New York, dare again take the boat and make my escape, although at the risk of my life. 

"Some of the captains went on board the prison-ship with Mr. Sproat, afew moments, but did not go off the deck. 

"In justice to myself and country I am obliged to publish the above. 

"Captain Rover. "

Besides this refutation of Sproat's shameful trick there were manyothers. The _Pennsylvania Packet_ of Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782, published an affidavit of John Kitts, a former prisoner on board theJersey. 

"The voluntary affidavit of John Kitts, of the city of Phila. , latemate of the sloop Industry, commanded by Robert Harris, taken beforethe subscriber, chief justice of the commonwealth of Pa. , the 16th dayof July, 1782. --This deponent saith, that in the month of Novemberlast he was walking in Front St. With the said Harris and saw in hishand a paper, which he told the deponent that he had received from acertain Captain Kuhn, who had been lately from New York, where he hadbeen a prisoner, and that this deponent understood and believed it wasa permission or pass to go to New York with any vessel, as it wasblank and subscribed by Admiral Arbuthnot: that he does not know thatthe said Robert Harris ever made any improper use of said paper. "

AFFIDAVIT OF JOHN COCHRAN, DENYING THE TRUTH OF THE STATEMENTSCONTAINED IN THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS

From the _Pennsylvania Packet_, Phila. , Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782. 

"The voluntary Affidavit of John Cochran, of the city of Phila. , latemate of the ship, Admiral Youtman, of Phila. , taken before thesubscriber, the 16 day of July, 1782. 

"The said deponent saith, that he was taken prisoner on board theaforesaid ship on the 12 of March last by the ship Garland, belongingto 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 theprison-ship Jersey, with the whole crew of the Admiral Youtman, andwas close confined there until the first day of this month, when hemade his escape; that the people on board the said prison-ship werevery sickly insomuch that he is firmly persuaded, out of near 1000persons, perfectly healthy when put on board the same ship, during thetime of his confinement on board, there are not more than but three orfour hundred now alive; that when he made his escape there were notthree hundred men well on board, but upward of 140 very sick, as heunderstood and was informed by the physicians: that there were five orsix men buried daily under a bank on the shore, without coffins; thatall the larboard side of the said ship was made use of as a hospitalfor the sick, and was so offensive that he was obliged constantly tohold his nose as he passed from the gun-room up the hatchway; that heseen maggots creeping out of a wound of one Sullivan's shoulder, whowas the mate of a vessel out of Virginia; and that his wound remainedundressed for several days together; that every man was put into thehold 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 * * * wereplaced under the ladder from the hatchway to the hold, and sooffensive day and night, that they were almost intolerable, andincreased the number of the sick daily. The deponent further saith, that the bilge water was very injurious in the hold, was muddy anddirty, and never was changed or sweetened during the whole time he wasthere, nor, as he was informed and believes to be true, for many yearsbefore; for fear, as it was reported, the provisions might be injuredthereby; that the sick in the hospital part of the said ship Jersey, had no sheets of Russia, or any other linen, nor beds nor beddingfurnished them; and those who had no beds of their own, of whom therewere great numbers, were not even allowed a hammock, but were obligedto lie on the planks; that he was on board the said prison ship whenCaptain Robert Harris and others, with David Sproat, the commissary ofprisoners, came on board her, and that none of them went or attemptedto go below decks, in said ship, to see the situation of theprisoners, nor did they ask a single question respecting the matter, to this deponent's knowledge or belief; for that he was present thewhole time they were on board, and further the deponent saith not. 

"John Cochran"

"Theodore McKean C. J. 

It seems singular that Sproat should have resorted to such acontemptible trick, which deceived few if any persons, for thereputation of the Jersey was too notorious for such a refutation tocarry weight on either side. 

In the meantime the mortality on board continued, and, by a moderatecomputation, two-thirds of her wretched occupants died and were buriedon the shore, their places being taken by fresh victims, from the manyprivateers that were captured by the British almost daily. 

CHAPTER XLV

GENERAL WASHINGTON AND REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY--COMMISSARIES SPROAT ANDSKINNER

Washington's best vindication against the charge of undue neglect ofAmerican prisoners is found in the correspondence on the subject. Wewill therefore give his letter to Rear Admiral Digby, after hisinterview with the committee of three sent from the Jersey to complainof their treatment by the British, and to endeavor to negotiate anexchange. 

GENERAL WASHINGTON TO REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY

Head-Quarters, June 5 1782

Sir:

By a parole, granted to two gentlemen, Messrs. Aborn and Bowen, Iperceive that your Excellency granted them permission to come to mewith a representation of the sufferings of the American prisoners atNew York. As I have no agency on Naval matters, this application to meis made on mistaken grounds. But curiosity leading me to enquire intothe nature and cause of their sufferings, I am informed that the primecomplaint is that of their being crowded, especially at this season, in great numbers on board of foul and infected prison ships, wheredisease and death are almost inevitable. This circumstance I ampersuaded needs only to be mentioned to your Excellency to obtain thatredress which is in your power _only_ to afford, and whichhumanity so strongly prompts. 

If the fortune of war, Sir, has thrown a number of these miserablepeople into your hands, I am certain your Excellency's feelings forfellowmen must induce you to proportion the ships (if they _must_be confined on board ships), to their accommodation and comfort, andnot, by crowding them together in a few, bring on disorders whichconsign them, by half a dozen a day, to the grave. 

The soldiers of his British Majesty, prisoners with us, were they(which might be the case), to be equally crowded together in close andconfined prisons, at this season, would be exposed to equal loss andmisery. I have the honor to be, Sir

Yr Excellency's most obtHble srvtGeorge Washington

REAR-ADMIRAL DIGBY'S ANSWER

N. Y. June 8 1782

Sir:

My feelings prompted me to grant Messrs. Aborn and Bowen permissionto wait on your Excellency to represent their miserable situation, andif your Excellency's feelings on this occasion are like mine, you willnot hesitate one moment in relieving both the British and Americanssuffering under confinement. 

I have the Honor to be your Excellency'sVery obdt Srvt

R. Digby

FROM COMMISSARY SKINNER TO COMMISSARY SPROAT

Camp Highlands, June 24th 1782

Sir:

As I perceive by a New York paper of the 12 inst, the last letterswhich passed between us on the subject of naval prisoners have beencommitted to print, I must request the same to be done with this whichis intended to contain some animadversions on those publications. 

The principles and policy which appear to actuate your superiors intheir conduct towards the American seamen who unfortunately fall intotheir power, are too apparent to admit of a doubt or misapprehension. I am sorry to observe, Sir, that notwithstanding the affectation ofcandour and fairness on your part, from the universal tenor ofbehaviour on your side of the lines, it is obvious that the designs ofthe British is, by misrepresenting the state of facts with regard toexchanges, to excite jealousy in the minds of our unfortunate seamen, that they are neglected by their countrymen, and by attempting to makethem believe that all the miseries they are now suffering inconsequence of a pestilential sickness arise from want of inclinationin General Washington to exchange them when he has it in his power todo it; in hopes of being able by this insinuation and by theunrelenting severity you make use of in confining them in thecontaminated holds of prison-ships, to compel them, in order to avoidthe dreadful alternative of almost inevitable death, to enter theservice of the King of Great Britain. 

To show that these observations are just and well grounded, I think itnecessary to inform you of some facts which have happened within myimmediate notice, and to put you in mind of others which you cannotdeny. I was myself present at the time when Captain Aborn andDr. Bowen * * * waited on his Excellency General Washington, and knowperfectly well the answer his Excellency gave to that application: heinformed them in the first place that he was not directly orindirectly invested with any power of inference respecting theexchange of naval prisoners; that this business was formerly under thedirection of the Board of Admiralty, that upon the annihilation ofthat Board Congress had committed it to the Financier (who has incharge all our naval prisoners) and he to the Secretary at war. That(the General) was notwithstanding disposed to do everything in hispower for their assistance and relief: that as exchanging seamen forsoldiers was contrary to the original agreement for the exchange ofprisoners, --which specified that officers should be exchanged forofficers, soldiers for soldiers, citizens for citizens, and seamen forseamen; as it was contrary to the custom and practice of othernations, and as it would be, in his opinion, contrary to the soundestpolicy, by giving the enemy a great and permanent strength for whichwe could receive no compensation, or at best but a partial andtemporary one, he did not think it would be admissible: but as itappeared to him, from a variety of well authenticated information, thepresent misery and mortality which prevailed among the naval prisonerswere almost entirely, if not altogether produced by the _mode oftheir confinement_, being closely crowded together in infectedprison-ships, where the very air is pregnant with disease, and theships themselves (never having been cleaned in the course of manyyears), a mere mass of putrefaction, he would therefor, from motivesof humanity, write to Rear-Admiral Digby, in whose power it was toremedy this great evil, by confining them on shore, or having asufficient number of prison-ships provided for that purpose, for, heobserved, it was as preposterously cruel to confine 800 men, at thissultry season, on board the Jersey prison-ship, as it would be to shutup the whole army of Lord Cornwallis to perish in the New Goal ofPhiladelphia, but if more commodious and healthy accommodations werenot afforded we had the means of retaliation in our hands, which heshould not hesitate, in that case, to make use of, by confining theland prisoners with as much severity as our seamen were held. --TheGentlemen of the Committee appeared to be sensible of the force ofthese reasons, however repugnant they might be to the feelings andwishes of the men who had destruction and death staring them in theface. 

His Excellency was further pleased to suffer me to go to New York toexamine into the grounds of the suffering of the prisoners, and todevise, if possible, some way or another, for their liberation orrelief. With this permission I went into your lines: and inconsequence of the authority I had been previously invested with, fromthe Secretary at War, I made the proposition contained in my letter ofthe ninth instant. Although I could not claim this as a matter ofright I flattered myself it would have been granted from theprinciples of humanity, as well as other motives. There had been abalance of 495 land prisoners due to us ever since the month ofFebruary last, when a settlement was made; besides which, to the bestof my belief, 400 have been sent in, (this is the true state of thefact, though it differs widely from the account of 250 men, which isfalsely stated in the note annexed to my letter in the New Yorkpaper:) notwithstanding this balance, I was then about sending intoyour lines a number of land prisoners, as an equivalent for ours, whowere then confined in the Sugar House, without which (though the debtwas acknowledged, I could not make interest to have them liberated), this business has since been actually negotiated, and we glory inhaving our conduct, such as will bear the strictest scrutiny, and befound consonant to the dictates of reason, liberality, andjustice. But, Sir, since you would not agree to the proposals I made, since I was refused being permitted to visit the prison-ships: (forwhich I conclude no other reason can be produced than your beingashamed or afraid of having those graves of our seamen seen by one whodared to represent the horrors of them to his countrymen, ) Since thecommissioners from your side, at their late meeting, would not enterinto an adjustment of the accounts for supplying your naval and landprisoners, on which there are large sums due us; and since yoursuperiors will neither make provision for the support of yourprisoners in our hands, nor accommodation for the mere existence ofours, who are now languishing in your prison-ships, it becomes myduty, Sir, to state these pointed facts to you, that the imputationsmay recoil where they are deserved, and to report to those, underwhose authority I have the honor to act, that such measures as theydeem proper may be adopted. 

And now, Sir, I will conclude this long letter with observing that nothaving a sufficient number of British seamen in our possession we arenot able to release urs by exchange:--this is our misfortune, but itis not a crime, and ought not to operate as a mortal punishmentagainst the unfortunate--we ask no favour, we claim nothing but commonjustice and humanity, while we assert to the whole world, as anotorious fact, that the unprecedented inhumanity in the _mode_of confining our naval prisoners, to the amount of 800 in one oldhulk, which has been made use of as a prison-ship for more than threeyears, without ever having been once purified, has been the real andsole cause of the deaths of hundreds of brave Americans, who would nothave perished in that untimely and barbarous manner, had they, (whenprisoners, ) been suffered to breathe a purer air, and to enjoy moreliberal and convenient accommodations agreeably to the practice ofcivilized nations when at war, (and) the example which has always beenset you by the Americans. You may say, and I shall admit, that if theywere placed on islands, and more liberty given them, that some mightdesert; but is not this the case with your prisoners in our hands? Andcould we not avoid this also, if we were to adopt the same rigid andinhuman mode of confinement you do?

I beg, Sir, you will be pleased to consider this as addressed to youofficially, as the principal executive officer in the department ofnaval prisoners, and not personally, and that you will attribute anyuncommon warmth of style that I may have been led into to my feelingand animation on a subject with which I find myself so muchinterested, both from the principles of humanity and the duties ofoffice. I am, Sir, yr most obdt SrvtAbraham Skinner

Letters full of recriminations continued to pass between thecommissaries on both sides. In Sproat's reply to the letter we havejust quoted, he enclosed a copy of the paper which he had induced thethirteen sea captains and other officers to sign, obtained as we haveseen, in such a dastardly manner. 

In the meantime the naval prisoners continued to die in great numberson board the prison and hospital-ships. We have already described thecleansing of the Jersey, on which occasion the prisoners were sent onboard of other vessels and exposed to cold and damp in addition totheir other sufferings. And while negotiations for peace were pendingsome relaxation in severity appears to have taken place. 

CHAPTER XLVI

SOME OF THE PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY

We have seen that the crew of the Chance was exchanged in the fall of1782. A few of the men who composed this crew were ill at the timethat the exchange was affected, and had been sent to Blackwell'sIsland. Among these unfortunate sufferers was the sailing-master ofthe Chance, whose name was Sylvester Rhodes. 

This gentleman was born at Warwick, R. I. , November 21, 1745. Hemarried Mary Aborn, youngest sister of Captain Daniel Aborn, andentered the service of his country, in the early part of the war, sometimes on land, and sometimes as a seaman. He was with CommodoreWhipple on his first cruise, and as prize-master carried into Bostonthe first prize captured by that officer. He also served in a RhodeIsland regiment. 

When the crew of the Jersey was exchanged and he was not among thenumber, his brother-in-law, Captain Aborn, endeavored to obtain hisrelease, but, as he had been an officer in the army as well as on theprivateer, the British refused to release him as a seaman. His father, however, through the influence of some prominent Tories with whom hewas connected, finally secured his parole, and Captain Aborn went toNew York to bring him home. But it was too late. He had become greatlyenfeebled by disease, and died on board the cartel, while on herpassage through the Sound, on the 3rd of November, 1782, leaving awidow and five children. Mary Aborn Rhodes lived to be 98, dying in1852, one of the last survivors of the stirring times of theRevolution. 

WILLIAM DROWNE

One of the most adventurous of American seamen was William Drowne, whowas 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 ofProvidence. In a Journal kept by Mr. Drowne on board of this ship, hewrites:

"The cruise is for two months and a half, though should New York fetchus up again, the time may be protracted, but it is not in the bargainto pay that potent city a visit _this bout_. It may easily beimagined what a _sensible mortification_ it must be to dispensewith the delicious sweets of a Prison-ship. But though the Washingtonis deemed a prime sailor, and is well armed, I will not be toosanguine in the prospect of escape, as 'the race is not always to theswift, nor the battle to the strong. ' But, as I said before, it is notin the articles to go there this time, especially as it is said theprisoners are very much crowded there already, and it would be a pieceof unfeeling inhumanity to be adding to their unavoidableinconvenience by our presence. Nor could we, in such a case, by anymeans expect that Madam Fortune would deign to smile so propitiouslyas she did before, in the promotion of an exchange so much sooner thanour most sanguine expectations flattered us with, as 'tis said to bewith no small difficulty that a parole can be obtained, much more anexchange. "

This cruise resulted in the capture by the Washington of severalvessels, among them the Robust, Lord Sandwich, Barrington, and theSpitfire, a British privateer. 

In May, 1781, Mr. Drowne sailed on board the Belisarius, commanded byCaptain James Munro, which vessel was captured on the 26th of July andbrought into the port of New York. Browne and the other officers weresent to the Jersey, where close confinement and all the horrors of theplace soon impaired his vigorous constitution. Although he was, through the influence of his friends, allowed to visit Newport onparole in November, 1781, he was returned to the prison ship, and wasnot released until some time in 1783. His brother, who was aphysician, nursed him faithfully, but he died on the 9th of August, 1786. Letters written on board the Jersey have a melancholy interestto the student of history, and this one, written by William Drowne toa Mrs. Johnston, of New York, is taken from the appendix to the"Recollections of Captain Dring. "

Jersey Prison Ship Sep. 25 1781

Madam:

Your letter to Captain Joshua Sawyer of the 23d Inst, came on boardthis moment, which I being requested to answer, take the freedom todo, and with sensible regret, as it announces the dissolution of thegood man. It was an event very unexpected. Tis true he had been forsome days very ill, but a turn in his favor cancel'd all furtherapprehension of his being dangerous, and but yesterday he was ablewithout assistance to go upon deck; said he felt much better, andwithout any further Complaints, at the usual time turned into hisHammock, and as was supposed went to sleep. Judge of our Surprise andAstonishment this morning at being informed of his being found alifeless Corpse. 

Could anything nourishing or comfortable have been procured for himduring his illness, 'tis possible He might now have been a wellman. But Heaven thought proper to take him to itself, and we must notrepine. 

A Coffin would have been procured in case it could be done seasonably, but his situation render'd a speedy Interment unavoidable. Agreeablyto which 10 or 12 Gentlemen of his acquaintance presented a petitionto the Commanding Officer on board, requesting the favor that theymight be permitted, under the Inspection of a file of Soldiers, to paythe last sad duties to a Gentleman of merit; which he humanelygranted, and in the Afternoon his remains were taken on shore, andcommitted to their native dust in as decent a manner as our situationwould admit. Myself, in room of a better, officiated in the sacredoffice of a Chaplain and read prayers over the Corpse previous to itsfinal close in its gloomy mansion. I have given you these particulars, Madam, as I was sensible it must give you great satisfaction to hearhe had some friends on board. Your benevolent and good intentions tohim shall, (if Heaven permits my return) be safely delivered to hisafflicted wife, to give her the sensible Consolation that her latemuch 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 notthe hand of fate prevented. 

If you wish to know anything relative to myself--if you will giveYourself the trouble to call on Mrs. James Selhrig, she will informYou, or Jos. Aplin, Esqre. 

You will please to excuse the Liberty I have taken being an entirestranger. I have no Views in it but those of giving, as I said before, satisfaction to one who took a friendly part towards a Gentlemandecease'd, whom I very much esteemed. Your goodness will not look witha critical eye over the numerous Imperfections of this Epistle. 

I am, Madam, with every sentiment of respect

yr most Obdt Servt

Wm. Drowne

The next letter we will give was written by Dr. Solomon Drowne to hissister Sally. This gentleman was making every effort to obtain hisbrother's release from captivity. 

Providence, Oct. 17 1781

Dear Sally:

We have not forgot you;--but if we think strongly on other objects thememory of you returns, more grateful than the airs which fan theSummer, or all the golden products of ye Autumn. The Cartel is stilldetained, for what reason is not fully known. Perhaps they meditate anattack upon some unguarded, unsuspecting quarter, and already in ideaglut their eyes, with the smoke of burning Towns and Villages, and aresoothed by the sounds of deep distress. Forbid it Guardian ofAmerica!--and rather let the reason be their fear that we should knowthe state of their shattered Navy and declining affairs--However, Billis yet a Prisoner, and still must feel, if not for himself, yet what amind like his will ever feel for others. In a letter I received fromhim about three weeks since he mentioned that having a letter toMr. George Deblois, he sent it, accompanied with one he wroterequesting his influence towards effecting his return the nextFlag, --that Mr. Deblois being indisposed, his cousin Captain WilliamDeblois, taken by Monro last year, came on board to see him, with apresent from Mr. Deblois of some Tea, Sugar, Wine, Rum, etc, and theoffer of any other Civilities that lay in the power of either:--Thiswas beneficence and true Urbanity, --that he was not destitute of Cash, that best friend in Adversity, except some other best friends, --thatas long as he had health, he should, he had like to have said, behappy. In a word he bears up with his wonted fortitude and goodspirits, as we say, nor discovers the least repining at his fate. Butyou and I who sleep on beds of down and inhale the untainted, cherishing air, surrounded by most endeared connexions, know that hiscannot be the most delectable of situations: therefor with impatiencewe look for his happy return to the Circle of his Friends. 

Yr aff Bro. 

Solomon Drowne

DR. S. DROWNE TO MRS. MARCY DROWNE

Newport Nov. 14 1781

Respected Mother, I found Billy much better than I expected, the account we received ofhis situation having been considerably exaggerated: However we oughtto be thankful we were not deceived by a too favorable account, and soleft him to the care of strangers, when he might most need thesoothing aid of close relatives. He is very weak yet, and as a secondrelapse might endanger his reduced, tottering system, think itadvisable not to set off for home with him till the wind isfavorable. He is impatient, for the moment of its shifting, as he isanxious to see you all. 

The boat is just going, Adieu, yr aff son

Solomon Drowne

We have already quoted from the Recollections of Jeremiah Johnson wholived on the banks of Wallabout Bay during the Revolution. He furthersays: "The prisoners confined in the Jersey had secretly obtained acrow-bar which was kept concealed in the berth of some confidentialofficer among the prisoners. The bar was used to break off the_port_ gratings. This was done, in windy nights, when goodswimmers were ready to leave the ship for the land. In this way anumber escaped. 

"Captain Doughty, a friend of the writer, had charge of the bar whenhe was a prisoner on board of the Jersey, and effected his escape byits means. When he left the ship he gave the bar to a confidant to beused for the relief of others. Very few who left the ship wereretaken. They knew where to find friends to conceal them, and to helpthem beyond pursuit. 

"A singularly daring and successful escape was effected from theJersey about 4 o'clock one afternoon in the beginning ofDec. 1780. The best boat of the ship had returned from New Yorkbetween 3 & 4 o'clock, and was left fast at the gangway, with the oarson board. The afternoon was stormy, the wind blew from the north-east, and the tide ran flood. A watchword was given, and a number ofprisoners placed themselves carelessly between the ship's waist andthe sentinel. At this juncture four Eastern Captains got on board theboat, which was cast off by their friends. The boat passed close underthe bows of the ship, and was a considerable distance from her beforethe sentinel in the fo'castle gave the alarm, and fired at her. Thesecond boat was manned for a chase; she pursued in vain; one man fromher bow fired several shots at the boat, and a few guns were fired ather from the Bushwick shore; but all to no effect, --and the boatpassed Hell-gate in the evening, and arrived safe in Connecticut nextmorning. 

"A spring of the writer was a favorite watering-place for the Britishshipping. The water-boat of the Jersey watered from this spring dailywhen it could be done; four prisoners were generally brought on shoreto fill the casks, attended by a guard. The prisoners were frequentlypermitted to come to the (Johnstons') house to get milk and food; andoften brought letters privately from the prisoners. From these thesufferings on board were revealed. 

"Supplies of vegetables were frequently collected by Mr. Remsen (thebenevolent owner of the mill, ) for the prisoners; and small sums ofmoney were sent on board by the writer's father to his friends bymeans of these watering parties. "

AN ESCAPE FROM THE 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 endedtragically. They were always undertaken in the night, after wrenchingor filing the bar off the port-holes. Having been on board severalweeks, and goaded to death in various ways, four of us concluded torun the hazard. We set to work and got the bars off, and waitedimpatiently 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 wereseveral guard sloops, one on our bow, and the other off our quarter ashort distance from us. The dark night came, the first two werelowered quietly into the water; and the third made some rumbling. Iwas the fourth that descended, but had not struck off from the vesselbefore the guards were alarmed, and fired upon us. The alarm becamegeneral, and I was immediately hauled on board (by the otherprisoners). 

"They manned their boats, and with their lights and implements ofdeath 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 ourshipmates. These desperadoes returned to their different vesselsrejoicing that they had killed three damned rebels. 

"About three years after this I saw a gentleman in John St. , nearNassau, who accosted me thus: 'Manley, how do you do?' I could notrecollect him. 'Is it possible you don't know me? Recollect the OldJersey?' And he opened his vest and bared his breast. I immediatelysaid to him--'You are James McClain. ' 'I am, ' said he. We bothstepped into Mariner's public house, at the corner, and he related hismarvellous escape to me. 

"'They pursued me:--I frequently dived to avoid them, and when I cameup 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 thoughtthey killed me. I however, with much exertion, though weak andwounded, made out to reach the shore, and got into a barn, not farfrom the ship, a little north of Mr. Remsen's house. The farmer, thenext morning, came into his barn, --saw me lying on the floor, and ranout in a fright. I begged him to come to me, and he did, I gave anaccount of myself, where I was from, how I was pursued, with severalothers. He saw my wounds, took pity on me; sent for his wife, andbound up my wounds, and kept me in the barn until night-fall, --took meinto his house, nursed me secretly, and then furnished me withclothing, etc. , and when I was restored, he took me with him, into hismarket-boat to this city, and went with me to the west part of thecity, provided me with a passage over to Bergen, and I landedsomewhere in Communipaw. Some friends helped me across Newark Bay, andthen I worked my way, until I reached Baltimore, to the great joy ofall my friends. " [Footnote: "Recollections of Captain Manley". ]

Just what proportion of captives died on board of the Jersey it is nowimpossible to determine. No doubt there were many escapes of which itis impossible to obtain the particulars. The winter of 1779-80 wasexcessively cold, and the Wallabout Bay was frozen over. One night anumber of prisoners took advantage of this to make their escape bylowering themselves from a port hole on to the ice. It is recordedthat the cold was so excessive that one man was frozen to death, thatthe British pursued the party and brought a few of them back, but thata number succeeded in making their escape to New Jersey. Who thesemen were we have been unable to discover. Tradition also states thatwhile Wallabout Bay was thus frozen over the Long Island market womenskated across it, with supplies of vegetables in large hampersattached to their backs, and that some of them came near enough tothrow some of their supplies to the half-famished prisoners on boardthe Jersey. 

It would appear that these poor sufferers had warm friends in thefarmers who lived on the shores of the Wallabout. Of theseMr. A. Remsen, who owned a mill at the mouth of a creek which emptiesinto the Bay, was one of the most benevolent, and it was his daughterwho is said to have kept a list of the number of bodies that wereinterred in the sand in the neighborhood of the mill and house. In1780 Mr Remsen hid an escaped prisoner, Major H. Wyckoff, for severaldays in one of his upper rooms, while at the same time the younglieutenant of the guard of the Jersey was quartered in thehouse. Remsen also lent Captain Wyckoff as much money as he needed, and finally, one dark night, safely conveyed him in a sleigh to CowNeck. From thence he crossed to Poughkeepsie. 

Although little mention is made by those prisoners who have leftaccounts of their experiences while on board the Jersey, of any aidreceived by them from the American government the following passagefrom a Connecticut paper would seem to indicate that such aid wastendered them at least for a time. It is possible that Congress sentsome provisions to the prison-ships for her imprisoned soldiers, ormarines, but made no provision for the crews of privateers. 

"New London. September 1st. 1779. D. Stanton testifies that he wastaken June 5th, and put in the Jersey prison ship. An allowance fromCongress was sent on board. About three or four weeks past we wereremoved on board the Good Hope, where we found many sick. There is nowa hospital ship provided, to which they are removed and good attentionpaid. "

The next extract that we will quote probably refers to the escape ofprisoners on the ice referred to above. 

"New London. Conn. Feb. 16th. 1780. Fifteen prisoners arrived here whothree weeks ago escaped from the prison-ship in the East River. Anumber of others escaped about the same time from the same ship, someof whom being frost-bitten and unable to endure the cold, were takenup and carried back, one frozen to death before he reached the shore. "

"_Rivington's Gazette_, Dec. 19th 1780. George Batterman, who hadbeen a prisoner on board the prison ship at New York, deposes that hehad had eight ounces of condemned bread per day; and eight ounces ofmeat. He was afterwards put on board the Jersey, where were, as wassupposed, 1, 100 prisoners; recruiting officers came on board andfinding that the American officers persuaded the men not to enlist, removed them, as he was told, to the Provost. The prisoners weretempted to enlist to free themselves from confinement, hopeless ofexchange. * * * The prisoners had a pint of water per day:--the sickwere not sent to the hospitals until they were so weak and ill thatthey often expired before they got out of the Jersey. The commandingofficer said his orders were that if the ship took fire we should allbe turned below, and left to perish in the flames. By accident theship took fire in the steward's room, when the Hessian guards wereordered to drive the prisoners below, and fire among them if theyresisted or got in the water. "

Talbot in his Memoirs stated that: "When the weather became cool anddry in the fall and the nights frosty the number of deaths on boardthe Jersey was _reduced_ to an average of ten per day! which was_small_ compared with the mortality for three months before. Thehuman bones and skulls yet bleaching on the shore of Long Island, andexposed by the falling down of the high bank, on which the prisonerswere buried, is a shocking sight. " (Talbot, page 106. )

In May, 1808, one William Burke of New York testified that "He was aprisoner in the Jersey 14 months, has known many American prisonersput to death by the bayonet. It was the custom for but one prisoner ata time to go on deck. One night while many prisoners were assembled atthe grate, at the hatchway to obtain fresh air, and waiting their turnto go on deck, a sentinel thrust his bayonet down among them, and 25next morning were found to be dead. This was the case severalmornings, when sometimes six, and sometimes eight or ten were founddead by wounds thus received. "

A Connecticut paper, some time in May, 1781, stated that. "Elevenhundred 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 inthe East River have perished during the late extreme weather, for wantof fuel and other necessaries. "

"New London. May 3rd. 1782. One thousand of our seamen remain inprison ships in New York, a great part in close confinement for sixmonths past, and in a most deplorable condition. Five hundred havedied during the past five or six months, three hundred are sick; manyseeing no prospect of release are entering the British service toelude the contagion with which the prison ships are fraught. "

Joel Barlow in his Columbiad says that Mr. Elias Boudinot told himthat in the Jersey 1, 100 prisoners died in eighteen months, almost thewhole of them from the barbarous treatment of being stifled in acrowded hold with infected air; and poisoned with unwholesome food, and Mr Barlow adds that the cruelties exercised by the British armieson American prisoners during the first years of the war wereunexampled among civilized nations. 

CONCLUSION

Such of the prisoners as escaped after months of suffering with healthsufficient for future usefulness in the field often re-enlisted, burning for revenge. 

Mr. Scharf, in his "History of Western Maryland, " speaks of ColonelWilliam Kunkel, who had served in Prussia, and emigrated to Americaabout the year 1732. He first settled in Lancaster, Pa. , butafterwards moved to Western Maryland. He had six sons in theRevolution. One of these sons entered the American army at the age ofeighteen. Taken prisoner he was sent on board the Jersey, where hissufferings were terrible. On his return home after his exchange hevowed to his father that he would return to the army and fight untilthe last redcoat was driven out of the country. He did return, andfrom that time, says Mr Scharf, his family never heard from him again. 

Mr. Crimmins in his "Irish-American Historical Miscellany, " says: "Anespecially affecting incident is told regarding one prisoner who diedon the Jersey. Two young men, brothers, belonging to a rifle corpswere made prisoners, and sent on board the ship. The elder took thefever, and in a few days became delirious. One night as his end wasfast approaching, he became calm and sensible, and lamenting his hardfate, and the absence of his mother, begged for a little water. Hisbrother with tears, entreated the guard to give him some, but invain. The sick youth was soon in his last struggles, when his brotheroffered the guard a guinea for an inch of candle, only that he mightsee him die. Even this was denied. "

The young rifleman died in the dark. 

"Now, " said his brother, drying his tears, "if it please God that Iever regain my liberty, I'll be a most bitter enemy!"

He was exchanged, rejoined the army, and when the war ended he is saidto have had eight large and one hundred and twenty-seven small notcheson his rifle stock. The inference is that he made a notch every timehe killed or wounded a British soldier, 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 thebattle of Long Island were so emaciated and broken down by scandalousneglect or ill usage that Washington refused to receive them inexchange for an equal number of healthy British and Hessian troops. ** * It is but justice to the Americans to add that their conductduring the war appears to have been almost uniformly humane. Nocharges of neglect of prisoners, like those which were brought, apparently with too good reason, against the English, weresubstantiated against them. The conduct of Washington was marked by acareful and steady humanity, and Franklin, also, appears to have donemuch to mitigate the war. "

Our task is now concluded. We have concerned ourselves with theprisoners themselves, not much with the history of the negotiationscarried on to effect exchange, but have left this part of the subjectto some abler hand. Only a very small part of the story has been toldin this volume, and there is much room for future investigations. Itis highly probable that if a systematic search is made manyunpublished accounts may be discovered, and a great deal of light shedupon the horrors of the British prisons. If we have awakened interestin the sad fate of so many of our brave countrymen, and aroused somereaders to a feeling of compassion for their misfortunes, andadmiration for their heroism, our task 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

This list of names was copied from the papers of the British WarDepartment. There is nothing to indicate what became of any of theseprisoners, whether they died, escaped, or were exchanged. The listseems to have been carelessly kept, and is full of obvious mistakes inspelling the names. Yet it shall be given just as it is, except thatthe names are arranged differently, for easier reference. This list ofprisoners is the only one that could be found in the British WarDepartment. What became of the lists of prisoners on the many otherprison ships, and prisons, used by the English in America, we do notknow. 

Garret AaronsJohn Aarons (2)Alexander AbbettJohn AbbettJames AbbenJohn AbbottDaniel AbbottAbel AbelGeorge AbelJacob AberryJabez AbettPhilip AbingThomas AbingtonChristopher AboisWilliam AbomsDaniel AbramsDon Meegl (Miguel) AbusureGansio AcitoAbel AdamsAmos AdamsBenjamin AdamsDavid AdamsIsaac AdamsJohn Adams (4)Lawrence AdamsMoses AdamsNathaniel AdamsPisco AdamsRichard AdamsStephen AdamsThomas AdamsWarren AdamsAmos AddamsThomas AddettBenjamin AddisonDavid AddonJohn AdlottRobert AdmistadNoah AdministerWm Adamson (2)John AdobonJames AdovieSebastian de AedoraJean AenbieMichael AessinisFrances AffilleJoseph Antonio AguirraThomas AguynobleJohn AiresRobert AitkenThomas AizManuel AjoteJacob AkinsJoseph Aker (2)Richard AkersonCharles AlbertPiere AlbertRobert AlbionJoachin AlconanJoseph de AlcortaJuan Ignacid AlcortaPedro AldarondaHumphrey AldenFred AldkinGeorge AldridgeJacob AlehipikeJean AleslureArchibald AlexanderJohn Alexander (2)Lehle AlexanderWilliam AlexanderThomas AlgerChristopher AlietJoseph AlievGeorge AlignottJoseph AllahGideon AllanHugh AllanFrancis AllegreeBaeknel AllenBancke AllenBenjamin AllenBucknell AllenEbeneser AllenGeorge AllenGideon AllenIsaac AllenJohn Allen (5)Josiah AllenMurgo AllenRichard Allen (2)Samuel Allen (7)Squire AllenThomas Allen (3)William Allen (4)Jean AllinCaleb AllisBradby AllisonBradey AllisonJames AllisonFrances AlmentArrohan AlmonAceth AlmondWilliam AlpinJacob AlsfrughJacob AlsoughJacob AlstrightJacob AlsworthThomas AlvareyMiguel AlverasDon Ambrose AlverdJoseph AlveyJames AlwhiteGeorge AlwoodJames AlwoodCharles AmeyAnthony AmingoManuel AmizarmaNathaniel AnabelAustin AnagaJean AncetteCharles AndersonJoseph AndersonRobert AndersonWilliam Anderson (3)George AndreBenjamin AndrewsCharles AndrewsDollar AndrewsEbeneser AndrewsFrancis AndrewsFrederick AndrewsJerediah AndrewsJohn Andrews (4)Jonathan AndrewsPascal AndrewsPhilany AndrewsThomas AndrewsWilliam AndrewsGuillion AndriePashal AndrieDominique AngolaAndre D. C. AnnapolenJoseph AnrandesJohn AnsonWilliam AnsterDavid AnthonyDavis AnthonySamuel AnthonyPierre AntienJacques AntiquaJean AntonFrancis AntonfJohn AntonioDaniel AppellDaniel AppleThomas ApplebySamuel AppletonJoseph Aquirse---- ArbayAbraham ArcherJames ArcherJohn ArcherStephen ArcherThomas ArcosRichard ArielAsencid ArismaneEzekiel ArmeJean ArmisedJames ArmitageElijah ArmsbyChristian ArmstrongWilliam ArmstrongSamuel ArnibaldAmos ArnoldAsh ArnoldSamuel ArnoldCharles ArnoldsSamuel ArnoldsThomas ArnoldAndres ArralManuel de ArtolDon Pedro AsevasuoHosea AsevaladoJames AshHenry AshJohn AshbeyJohn AshburnPeter AshburnJohn AshbyWarren AshbyJohn AshleyAndrew AskillFrancis AspuroJohn AthanGeorge AtkinsJohn AtkinsSilas AtkinsJohn AtkinsonRobert AtkinsonWilliam AtkinsonJames AtlinDuke AtteraJean Pierre AttonJohn AtwoodHenry AuchinlaupJoseph AuditAnthony AiguilliaIgarz Baboo AugusionPeter AugustaThomas AugustineLaurie AujitGeorge AustinJob AveryBenjamin AvmeyFrancis AyresDon Pedro Azoala

B

Franklin BabcockWilliam BabcockJames BabelJeremiah BabellJean BabierAbel BaboardVascilla BabtreauseFrancis BachelierJonathan BachelorAntonio BackalongFrancis BackayBenjamin BaconEsau BaconJudah BaconStephen BadanteLaurence BadenoWilliam BadickJonathan BaddockJohn BaggarBarnett BaggesAdam BagleyJoseph BahamonyJohn Bailey (2)William BaileyMoses BairdJoseph BaisolusWilliam BaisonWilliam BathoChristopher BakerEbenezer BakerJohn Baker (2)Joseph BakerJudah BakerLemuel BakerNathaniel BakerPamberton BakerPemberton BakerPembleton BakerThomas Baker (3)David BaldwinJames BaldwinJohn BaldwinNathaniel BaldwinRalph BaldwinThomas BallBenjamin BallardJohn BallastJoseph BalumatiguaRalf BamfordJacob BamperPeter BanabyJames BandelAugustine BandinePierre BandineJohn Banister (2)Matthew BankJames BankerJohn BanksMatthew BanksJean Rio BapbstaJean BaptistaGale BaptistJean BaptistJohn BarberGilbert BarberJohn BardenWilliam BarenoftWalter BargemanJoseph BargeronCharles BargoMabas BarkBenjamin BarkerEdward BarkerJacom BarkerJohn BarkerPeter BarkerThomas BarkerBenjamin BarklyJoseph BarkumpJohn BarleyJames BarmanEthiem BarnellCharles BarnesHenry BarnesWooding BarnesJohn BarnettHenry BarneyMons BarneySamuel BarneyWilliam BarnhouseJames BarracksPierre BarrattAbner BarreDennis BarrettEnoch BarrettFrancis BarrettSamuel BarrettWilliam BarrettRobert BarrolBernard BarronEnoch BarrottFrancis BarsidgeWilliam BartletJoseph BartleyCharles BarthalemerdCharles BartholemewJoseph Bartholomew---- BartholomewBenjamin BartholoydPetrus BartlemieMichael BartolThomas BartonJohn BaskerWilliam BasonDonnor BassJuvery BastinMichael BastinLouis BastonAsa BatchelerBenjamin BateBenjamin BatesHenry BatesJames BatesWilliam BattJohn BattersleyJohn BatteskerAdah BattermanAdam BattermanGeorge Batterman (2)Joseph Batterman---- BaumosThomas BaustoBenjamin BavedonGeorge BaxterMalachi BaxterRichard BayanJoseph BaydeThomas BayessJohn BayleyJoseph BaynesJean BaxulaJohn BazeeDaniel BealSamuel BealJoseph BeaneJames BeankeyJames BearbankJesse BearbankMorgan BeardMoses BeardDaniel BeattyBenjamin BeaselJoseph BeaufortPerri BeaumontAndrew BeckThomas BeckWilliam BeckettJonathan BeckwithFrancis BedellFrederick BedfordJoseph BedfordThomas BedfordBenjamin BeebeElias BeebeJoshua BeebeBenjamin BeefordJames BeekmanWalter BeekwithLewis BegandJoseph BegleyJoseph BelcherJohn BeldingPierre BelgardAaron BellCharles BellRobert BellUriah BellAlexander BellardJoseph BelterJulian BelughJean BengierJoseph BenloydeJohn BennGeorge BennettJohn BennettJoseph BennettPeter BennettPierre BennettAnthony BensonStizer BensonDavid BentonJohn BentonPeter BentlerNathaniel Bentley (2)Peter BentleyWilliam BentleyJoshua M BerasonJoseoh BereanJulian BergerLewis BernallFrancis BernardusFrancis BercouteJean Juquacid BerraAbner BerryAlexander BerryBenjamin BerryDaniel BerryDennis BerryEdward BerryJohn BerryPeter Berry (2)Philip BerrySimon BerryWilliam Berry (3)Philip BerrycruiseWilliam BerrymanJean BertineMartin BertrandJohn BertramAndrew BesinJean BeshireJohn BeszickJames BettSamuel BevanJean BevinBenjamin BeverleyRobert BibbistoneJohn BiceAndrew BickJohn BicketyCharles BierdDavid BierdJoshua BieveyBenjamin BigelowOliver BigelowThomas BiggsJean BilarieCharles Bill (2)Garden BillJohn Bill (2)Pierre BillJohn BillardJames BillerSamuel BillingBenjamin BillingsBradford BillingsEzekiel BillingsRobert BillingsDavid BillowsFrarey BinnenCirretto BiolaPierre BiranAlexander BirchNathaniel BirchJoseph BirdWeldon BirdThomas BirketSamuel BirminghamEzekiel BishopIsrael BishopJohn Bishop (2)John BissellJack BissickOsee BissolePierre BitgaysePeter BittonDaniel BlackJames Black (3)John BlackJoseph BlackRobert N BlackSamuel Black (2)Timothy BlackWilliam BlackJohn BlackburnAlexander BlackhuntWilliam BlackpondV C BlaineJohn BlairCharles BlakeIncrease BlakeJames BlakeSamuel BlakeValentine BlakeDavid BlanchRobert BlanchJoseph BlancherWilliam BlanchetJohn BlanneyGideon BlamboJesse BlacqueJoseph BlateleyLubal BlaynaldAsa BlaynerEdward BlevinBenjamin BlimbeyWilliam BlimbeyJoseph BlindeWilliam BlissSamuel BlissreadJuan BlodgettSeth BlodgettJohn BlondLewis BloneLouis BlongPeter Bloome (2)Samuel BloomfieldJomes BlossomJames BlowenJohn BloxandWilliam BluardGeorge BlumbargGeorge Blunt (4)William BlytheMatthew BoarJohn BobierJohn BobgierJoseph BobhamJonathan BocrossLewis BodinPeter BodwayneJohn BoelourneChristopher BoenPurdon BoenRoper BogatJames BoggartRalph BogleNicholas BoiadPierre BoilonWilliam BoineJacques BollierWilliam BoltWilliam BoltsBartholomew BonavistHenry BoneAnthony BoneaJeremiah BoneafoyJames BoneyThomas BongBarnabus BonusJames BoolsWilliam BooksJohn BoothJoseph BordaCharles BordenJohn BormanJames BorrallJoseph BortushesDaniel Borus (2)Joseph BoseyPierre BosiereJacques BosseEbenezer BoswellGustavus BoswellLewis BothalCharles BottisJames BottomWalter BottomAugustin BouderyAugustus BouderyAnthony BoueaTheophilus BouldingPierre BounetLewis BourgeJohn BoursboLawrence BoursheJean BoutillaLewis BoutonEdward BovenElijah BowdenArden BowenElijah BowenEzekiel BowenPaldon BowenThomas Bowen (3)William BowenWillis BowenJames BowersThomas BowersFulbur BowesJames BowlesDaniel BowmanBenjamin BowmanElijah Bowman (2)John BowmanMichael BownerJohn BowrieP I BowreeJean BowseasJohn BoyauThomas BoydJohn BoydeDavid BoyeauFrancis BoyerJoseph BoyneThomas BradbridgeSamuel BradburyWilliam BradenJames BraderSamuel BradfieldWilliam BradfordAbijah BradleyAlijah BradleyDaniel BradleyJames BradleyAbraham BradleyJohn BradyJames BradyonEbenezer Bragg (2)William BragleyNathaniel BrailyZacheus BrainardJoseph BramerZachary BramerWilliam BramberJames BranartAholibah BranchWilliam BrandRalf BrandfordCharles BranelWilliam BransdaleDavid BransonPeter BraswanPeter Brays (2)Burden BraytonPeter BraytonJohn BredfordJames BrehardElijah BremwardPierre BreneGeorge BrentPierre BrettonJohn BrewerSamuel BrewerJoseph BrewettJames Brewster (2)Seabury BrewsterJohn BriceThomas BridgesGlond BrigesCabot BriggsAlexander BrightHenry BrimPeter BrinkleyEphraim BrionLouis BrireThomas BriskSimon BristoJalaher C BritonPeter BrittonThomas BrittonEphraim Broad (3)Ossia BroadleyJoseph BroakerJoshua BroctonPhilip BroderickWilliam Broderick (2)Joseph BrogeWilliam BrookerCharles Brooks (2)Henry BrooksPaul BrooksSamuel Brooks (2)Thomas BrooksBenjamin BrownChristopher BrownDavid Brown (2)Francis BrownGustavus Brown (3)Hugh Brown (2)Jacob BrownJames Brown (3)Jonathan BrownJohn Brown (12)Joseph Brown (3)Michael BrownNathaniel BrownPatrick BrownPeter BrownSamuel Brown (3)William Brown (5)W. BrownWilliam Boogs BrownWillis BrownEssick BrownhillWanton BrownhillCharles BrownwellGardner BrownwellPierre BrowsJames BrudingLewis BrunDaniel BrutonEdward BryanJohn BryanMatthew BryanNathaniel BryanWilliam BryanBenjamin BryandEphraim BryandJames BryantWilliam BryantNicholas BryardFrancis BryeanRichard BryenBerr BryonThomas BryonSimon BuasThomas BuchanFrancis BuchananElias BuckElisha BuckJohn BuckJoseph BuckleinPhilip BucklerCornelius BuckleyDaniel Buckley (2)Francis BuckleyJacob BuckleyJohn Buckley (3)Daniel Bucklin (2)Samuel BuckwithDavid BuckworthBenjamin BudNicholas BuddJonathan BuddingtonOliver BuddingtonWaller BuddingtonWilliam BudgidJohn BudicaJoshua BuffinsLawrence BuffootJohn BuggerSilas BuggJohn BuldingsJonathan BulgedoBenjamin BullockThomas BullockBenjamin BumbleyLewis BunceNorman BunceThomas BunchAntonio BundObadiah BunkeJonathan BunkerTimothy BunkerWilliam BunkerRichard Bunson (2)Murdock BuntineFrederick BunwellThomas BurchMichael BurdJeremiah BurdenJoseph BurdenWilliam BurdenJason BurdisDaniel BurditBleck BurdockRobert BurdockVincent BurdockHenry BurgessTheophilus BurgessBarnard BurghProsper BurgoJean BurhamJames BurkeThomas BurkeWilliam BurkeMichael BurkmanWilliam BurnFrederick BurnettJames BurneyJames BurnhamDaniel BurnhillArchibald BurnsEdward Burns (2)Henry BurnsJohn BurnsThomas BurnsStephen BurrPierre BurraFrancis BurrageJohn BurrellLewis BurrellIsaac BurresterJonathan BurriesNathaniel BurrisJohn BurroughsEdward BurrowJames BurtonJohn BurtonJessee ByanslowBartholomew ByiJohn Bylight

C

Abel CableLouis CadatLouis Pierre CadateMichael CadateJohn CaddingtonNathan CaddockJean CadoJohn CahoonJonathan CahooneThomas CaileDavid Cain (2)Thomas CainSamuel CairdJoseph CaivinsPierre CajoleThomas CalbourneJames CalderCaplin CalfiereNathaniel CalhounCharles CallBarnaby CallaghamDaniel CallaghanWilliam CallehanJames CallinghamAndrew CaimanFrancis CalonParpi CalveNicholas CalwellJoseph CambridgeEdward CameronSimon CameOseas CampAlexander CampbellFrederick CampbellJames CampbellJesse CampbellJohn Campbell (2)Joseph CampbellPhilip Campbell (2)Robert CampbellThomas Campbell (2)James CanadyJoseph CananaSatarus CandieJacob CanesRichard CaneyJacob CanmerWilliam CannadyWilliam CannerCharles CannonFrancis CannonJohn CannonJoseph CannonSamuel CannonJean CanuteFrancis CapeTimothy CapeDaniel CapnellWilliam CaransameRobert CarburyJuan Fernin CardendsJoseph CareaIsaac CareltonJoseph CarenderEzekiel CarewDaniel CareyJohn Carey (4)Joshua CareyRichard CareyWilliam CargallJoseph CariviotEdward GarlandAntonio CarlesWilliam CarlesJean CarltonThomas CarltonJohn CarlisleJustan CarlsrunBenjamin CarmanBenjamin CarmellWilliam CarmenellEdward CarmodyAnthony CarneyHugh CarneyDavid CarnsJean CarolinPierre CarowanJohn CarpenterMiles CarpenterRichards CarpenterEdward CarrIsaac CarrJohn Carr (2)Philip CarrWilliam CarrRobert Carrall---- CarretThomas CarringtonJean CarrlloJames CarrollJohn CarrollMichael CarrollPerance CarrollWilliam CarrolltonJohn CarrowPeter CarrowayAvil CarsonBatterson CarsonIsrael CarsonJames CarsonRobert Carson (2)Samuel CarsonWilliam CarsonLevi CarterThomas CarterWilliam Carter (2)John CarvellJoseph CasanJoseph CasanovaJohn CaseThomas CaseThomas CasewellEdward CaseyJohn CaseyWilliam CaseyStephen CashJacob CashierJean CashwellGosper CassianSamuel CassonJohn CaspAnthony CasperMichael CasseyJohn CastelJoseph CastileThomas Castle (2)John Caswell (3)Baptist CavalierFrancis CavalierGeorge CavalierJames CavalierThomas CavalierJoseph Augustus CavellGasnito CavensaThomas CaveralPierre CawanJohn CawrierJohn CawrseEdward CaymanAnthony CaynerOliver CayaranJohn Cerbantin---- ChabbottPerrie ChalierSamuel ChalkeleyHurbin ChalligneJohn ChallonerWilliam ChallonerPierre ChaloreBenjamin ChamberlainBird ChamberlainCharles ChamberlandNancy ChambersDore ChampionLines ChampionThomas ChampionClerk ChamplinIsaac ChamplinJames ChapinJoseph ChapleyJoseph ChaplinJosiah ChaplinLodowick ChaplinDaniel ChapmanJames ChapmanJeremiah ChapmanJohn Chapman (2)Lion ChapmanSamuel ChapmanCharles ChappelFrederick ChappellJohn ChappellJohn CharbeinIchabod ChardWilliam CharfillJames CharlesJohn CharlesJean CharonerAaron ChaseAugustus Chase (2)Earl Chase (2)George Chase (2)Lonie ChaseSamuel ChaseJean ChatfieldJovis ChaurineJohn CheavelinChristopher ChenaurLouis ChenetAndrew CheesebrookDavid CheesebrookJames CheesebrookPierre CheesebrookSamuel CheesebrookBritton CheesemanJames CheeversChristopher ChenaurBenjamin ChenceyLouis ChenetJohn CherryWilliam CherryJohn CheseHiram ChesterBenjamin ChevalierJohn ChevalierJean Gea ChevalierJulian ChevalierEdward ChevelandLasar ChienSilas ChildsCadet ChillerThomas ChillingAbel ChimneyDavid ChinksLeshers ChipleyWilliam ChristanHenry ChristianJohn Christian (2)James ChristieBenjamin ChittingtonBartholomew ChiversBenjamin ChopmanMatthew ChubbDavid ChueehookBenjamin Church (2)Israel ChurchThomas ChurchJohn ChurchillPierre ClabeEdward ClamronBenjamin ClannanEdward ClanwellSupply Clap (2)Supply Twing ClapEdward ClaringCharles ClarkChurch ClarkJames Clark (2)John ClarkJubal ClarkWilliam Clark (2)Emanuel ClarkeDaniel ClarkeJacob ClarkeJames ClarkeJoshua ClarkeLewis ClarkeNicholas ClarkeNoel ClarkeStephen ClarkeTheodore ClarkeTimothy ClarkeWilliam Clarke (2)Samuel ClarksonSamuel ClaypoleEdward ClaytonWilliam ClaytonDavid CleavelandMichel ClemenceClement ClementsAlexander ClerkGambaton ClerkIsaac ClerkJacob ClerkJonathan ClerkJohn Clerk (3)Lardner ClerkNathaniel ClerkPeleg ClerkThomas Clerk (3)Tully ClerkWilliam ClerkThomas CleverJean ClineseauDavid ClintonPhilip ClireJohn CloudJohn CoarsinChristian CobbChristopher CobbFrancis CobbJohn CobbJonathan CobbNathaniel CobbRichard CobbThomas CobbChristopher CobbsRaymond CobbsTimothy CobleyMoses CobnanEliphas CoburnJames CochranJohn Cochran (2)Richard CochranJohn CockerJohn CocklinEquatius CodeLewis CodeanChristopher CodmanJames CodnerAbel CoffinEdward CoffinElias CoffinElisha Coffin (2)Obadiah Coffin (2)Richard CoffinSimon Coffin (2)Zechariah CoffinWilliam CogeshallJohn CoggeshallRobert CoghillJohn CohlenDavid CoistenGuilliam CokillJames ColbertAbial ColeBenjamin Cole (2)John Cole (2)Joshua ColeRilhard ColeThomas Cole (2)Waller ColeDavid ColemanJames ColemanNicholas ColemanStephen ColemanJames ColfordMiles ColhoonLewis ColinettAlexander ColleyBasquito ColleySeptor en CollieCandal CollierJohn CollingsJoseph CollingwoodDoan CollinsJames Collins (2)John Collins (3)Joseph CollinsPowell CollinsWilliam CollinsDaniel CollohanThomas ColloughJoseph ColloyElisha ColmanJohn ColneyFrederick ColsonJames ColtingJulian ColumbJulian ColverDavid ColvichNathaniel ColwellNathaniel CombickJoseph CombsMatthew CombsJoseph CombyGilbert ComickPatrick CondonStafford CondonPhilip CongStrantly CongdonMuller CongleJohn ConnellJohn ConnellyGeorge ConnerJames ConnerJohn Conner (2)Robert ConnerPatrick ConnellySamuel ConnellyJohn ConnorWilliam ConnorGeorge ConradFrederick ContaneyWilliam ConvassJohn ConwayThomas ConwayRobert ConwellAmos CookAnthony CookBenjamin CookEashak CookEsbric CookEzekiel Cook (2)Frederick CookGeorge CookJames Cook (3)John Cook (4)Joseph CookRichard CookSamuel CookeStephen CookeAbraham CooperEzekiel CooperMatthew Cooper (2)Mot CooperNathaniel Cooper (3)Richard CooperWarren CooperWilliam CooperAaron CoopingJoseph CopelandAndrew CordJoseph CorneanPeter CorneliusJohn CornellMatthew CornellJames CornerBenjamin CorningRobert CornwellWilliam CornwellBernard CorriganJohn CorriganJohn CorrollBattson CorsonPomeus CorsonLewis CortlandRobert CorwellJoseph de CostaAntonio CostoNoel CotisAnghel CotterDavid CotteralDavid CottrillJames CouchJohn CouchThomas CoudonJohn CoughinPierre CoulansonNathaniel ConnanFrancis ConniePerrie CoupraJean de CourseLeonard CourtneyLouis CousetJoseph CousinsFrances CousnantJean CousterJohn CouttVizenteausean CovazensaJohn CoventryJohn CoverleyPeter CovetZechariah CowardJames CowbranJames CowenJohn CowinsEdward CownovanEnoch CoxJacob CoxJohn CoxJoseph Cox (2)Portsmouth CoxWilliam CoxThurmal CoxenAsesen CraftJoseph CraftMatthias Craft (2)James CraigThomas CraigHenry CrandallOliver CranePhilip CraneSamuel CraneWilliam CranstonAbel Crape (2)Thomas Craton (2)Joshua CratterbrookAlias CrawfordBenjamin CrawfordJohn Crawford (4)Richard CrawfordSamuel CrawfordWilliam CrawfordBasil CrawleyCornelius CrawleyIsaac Crayton (2)James CraytonAmos CreaseyRichard CreechThomas CreepmanWilliam CreseanWilliam CresleyHenry CressousonMichael CriderJohn CrimOthers CringeaWilliam Crispin (2)George CristinBenjamin CrockerJames CrockerJohn CrockerJoshua Crocker (2)John CroixOliver CromellOliver Cromwell (4)Richmond CromwellRobert CromwellHugh CrooktJohn CroppenBunsby CrorkerPeter CrosburyDaniel Crosby (3)William CrosleyJoseph CrossThomas CroughChristian CrowdyMatthew CrowBissell CrowellSeth CrowellWilliam CrowellGeorge CrownMichael CrowyarWilliam CrozierJaneise CubalodBenjamin CuffeyPhilip CuishThomas CulbarthDaniel CulbertWilliam Cullen (2)David CullettWillis CulpperLevi CulverSamuel CulvinJosea ComnanoCornelius CumstockIsaac CuninghamJames CunicanBarnabas CunninghamCornelius CunninghamJohn CunninghamJacob CurrelAnthony CurryAugustine CurryRobert CurryDaniel CurtisFrederick CurtisJoseph CurtisHenry CurtisJoseph CushingRobert CushingEimnan Cushing

D

Guilliam DabuicanJean DabuicanJohn DaccarmellIsaac Dade (2)Jean DadicaSilas DaggottJohn DagureBenjamin DailJames Daily (2)Patrick DailyRobert DailySamuel Daily (2)William DailyJames DalcahideJeremiah DalleyReuben DamonThomas DanbyChristopher DanielJohn Daniel (3)Samuel DanissBenjamin DannisonWilliam DannisonWilliam DannivanBenjamin DarbyWilliam DarbyW DarceyThomas DarleyHenry Darling (2)Richard DarlingWilliam DarlingCharles DarroughRobert DartSamuel DaunBasteen DavanJames DaveickLot DavenportChristopher DavidsJohn DavidsonSamuel DavidsonPierre DavieBenjamin Davies (2)Christopher DaviesEdward DaviesEliga DaviesElijah DaviesFelton DaviesJohn Davies (9)Henry DaviesLewis DaviesRichard Davies (2)Samuel Davies (3)Thomas Davies (3)William Davies (3)Benjamin Davies (2)Charles DavisChristopher DavisCurtis DavisHenry DavisIsaac DavisJames DavisJohn Davis (2)Lewis DavisSamuel DavisThomas DavisWilliam DavisThomas DawnHenry DawneSamuel DawsonJohn DayJoseph DayMichael DayThomas Day (2)William DayJoseph DaysWilliam DaytonDemond DeaboneyJonathan DeakonsIsaac DealJohn DealElias Deale (2)Daniel DealingBenjamin DeamondBenjamin DeanLevi DeanLewis DeanOrlando DeanPhilip DeanArchibald DeaneGeorge DeaneJoseph DeaneThomas DeaneMichael DebongJames DeblandPeter DeboyBenorey DeckJoseph de CostaJean de CourseFrancis Dedd---- DefourgueJean DeglePierre DegonierePierre Guiseppe DegueWilliam DegueLouis DegunePratus DehangoJacob DehartJasper DeinayDomingo DelaceZabulon DelanoGare DelareGaspin DelaryAnthony DelasAmos DelavanPierre DelavasJoseph DelcostaFrancis DelgadaHenry DeloneAnthony DeloreJames DemayDavid DemenyIsrael DemingJosiah DemmayElement DemenJean DemolotRichard DempseyAvery DenaufDaniel DenicaBeebe DenisonDeverick DennisJames DennisJohn Dennis (3)Jonas DennisJoseph Dennis (2)Moses DennisPaine DennisLemuel DennisonJohn DenocDavid DenroronJohn DenrononsLewis DepueManuel DeraliaJohn DerboiseDaniel DeroroDaniel DerryWilliam DerryLouis DesheaJohn DesiterJacob DessinoJeane DevaratteIsaac DevayGabriel DevayJames DevereuxRobert DevereuxJames DeverickJohn DevericksHonor DeveyJoseph DevilleFrances DeviseDaniel DevoeThomas DevoyAaron DexterBenjamin DexterSimon DexterElerouant DiaberyJonah DiahDavid DiberArchibald DickBenjamin DickensonBenjamin DickinsonEdward DickinsonIchabod DickinsonJohn DickinsonEdward DickersonJoseph DiersThomas DiggensonRone DigonJoseph DillonsJohn DillowBenjamin DimonCharles DimonJames DimonRobert DingeeElisha DingoJohn DingoPierre DisaablanMitchael DissellJohn DiverVictoire DivieChristian DixonChristopher DixonDaniel DixonJames Dixon (2)John DixonNicholas DixonRobert Dixon (2)William DixonEtamin DluiceJohn DoanJoseph DobbsJohn DobieeHenry DochertyHugh DochertyWilliam Dodd (2)James DodgeGeorge DogetMatthew DoggettSamuel Doggett (2)Timothy DoggleJohn Doherty (2)Thomas DohertyJosiah DohnSamuel DohnRobert DoinFrances DoisuJohn DolbearElisha DolbuyJohn DoleElisha DolebyNathaniel DollowayPierre DominicaJean DomreanBarton DonaldAnthony DonaldsDaniel DonaldsonMc DonalmSolomon DonanJohn DonganPeter C DongueAnthony DonguesBenjamin DonhamDevereux DoniesGeorge DonkinFrancis DoraJohn McDora DoraNathaniel DorceyPatrick Dorgan (3)Timothy DorganJoseph DorityPaul Paulding DorsonJoseph DoscemerJay DoudneyFrancis DouglasRobert DouglassWilliam DouglassIseno DoutingThomas DouvalJames DowdeyWilliam DowdenHezekiah Dowen (2)John DowerHenry DowlingFrancis DownenrouxHenry DowlingJohn DowneyJohn DowningPeter DowningJohn DowrayJames DoxburyPeter DoyleMurray DrabbThomas DrakeJean DraullardJames DrawberrySamuel DrawereJames DraytonWilliam DredgeAbadiah DrewJohn Drew (2)Thomas DrewryJohn DriverSimeon DrownWilliam DrownJean DubisonTames DublandsThomas DuboisHenry DubtoeMichael DuchaeeArchibald DuckerJean DuckieMartin DucloyAbner DudleyDoulram DuffeyEzekiel DuffeyThomas DuffieldMichael DuffinThomas DuffyJacques DuforteFranes DugreeChemuel DukeJohn DukeWilliam DukeIsaac DukersonMichael DulessTerrence DumravenJames DunbarGeorge DuncanJohn DuncanJames DuncanWilliam DuncanThomas DungJohn DunhireJohn DunisonJames DunkinPierre DunkwaterThomas DunlopeJohn DunlopeThomas DunlopeArchibald DunloppAllan DunlotJohn DunmerhayArthur DunnJoseph DunnPeter DunnSylvester DunnamJohn DunningPeter DunningThomas DunnonEdene DunreasAllen DunslopeWilliam DuntonStephen DunwellEhenne DupeeThomas DuphaneFrancis DuplessisFrance DupueCharles DuranHenry DuranLewis DuranGlase DurandJacques DurantSylvester DurhamIsrael DurpheyJonathan J DurvanaRobert DuscassonAnthony DuskinAndrew DussWilliam DussellRaoul DutchellJames DuverickTimothy DwierWilliam DwineJohn DwyerTimothy Dwyer (2)William DwymanAlexander DyerFitch DyerHat DyerHubert DyerJonathan DyerNathan DyerPatrick DyerRobert DyerRoger DyerSamuel Dyer

E

David EachSimon EachforshDavid EadoeBenjamin EarleIsaac EarleLewis EarlePardon Earle (2)Michael EasonAmos EasterbrookCharles EasterbrookJohn EavesJoseph EbbenJohn EbbinstoneAvico EcbevesteJoseph EchangueidFrancis EchauegudAmorois EchaveLorendo EcherauidFrancis EchesevriaIgnatius EchesevriaManuel de EcheveraleFermin EcheuarriaJoseph Nicola EchoaThoman Ecley -- EdbronThomas EddisonWilliam EdeButler EdelinJessie EdgarJohn EdgarThomas EdgarWilliam Edgar (2)James EdgartonPhilip EdgartonDoum EdmondoHenry EdmundJohn EdmundAlexander EdwardsCharles EdwardsDaniel EdwardsEdward EdwardsHenry EdwardsJames EdwardsJohn EdwardsMichael EdwardsRollo EdwardsThomas EdwardsWilliam Edwards (2)James EgglestonSamuel EgglestonJames EgrantJames EkklestonJonathan ElbridgeNathan ElderLuther ElderkinDaniel EldertonAldub EldredDaniel Eldridge (2)Ezra EldridgeJames EldridgeThomas EldridgeWilliam EldridgeWilliam ElevesRichard ElginJohn EliBenjamin EliasBenjamin ElithJames ElkinsNicholas ElleryCornelius ElliottDaniel ElliottJohn ElliottJoseph ElliottNathaniel ElliottJonathan EllisJohn Ellison (2)Theodore EllsworthStephen ElnsNathaniel ElridgeIsaac ElwellJohn ElwellSamuel Elwell (3)James Emanuel (2)George EmeryJean EmilgonJohn EngrumJohn EoonSamuel EpworthJohn ErexsonIgnaus ErguaMartin EronteJames EskWalford EskridgeAntony EswardAnthony EticoreJoseph EtonFrancis EugalindJoseph EugalindNicholas EustonAlias EvansPierre EvansFrancis EveaneLewis EveaneLewis EvenPeni EvenaPierre EvenaEven EvensWilliam EvensJeremiah EverettEbenezer EverallRobert EverleyGeorge EversonJohn EversonBenjamin EvesDavid EvinsJohn EvinsPeter EwenThomas EwellWilliam EwellPeter EwenThomas EwenJames EwingThomas EwingJuan Vicente ExpassaChristian Eyes

F

Jean Paul FabalueJohn FaberAshan FairfieldBenjamin FairfieldJohn Fairfield (2)William FaithfulHenry FalamEphraim FalkenderGeorge FalkerRobert FallThomas FallenHenry FallsFrancis FanchJean FanumJohn FarlandWilliam FarmerJohn FaroeMichael FarreanWilliam FarrowThomas FaryHenry FatemJacob FaulkeRobert FauntroyJoseph FeebeMartin FellerJames FellowsNathaniel FellowsJohn FelpigPeter FelpigBenjamin FeltDavid FelterThomas FennallCable FennellJohn FentonCable FenwellJoseph FerarldDomigo FerbonDavid FereMatthew FergoePierre FermangNoah FernalFrancis FernandaThomas FernandisMatthew FernayEphraim FernonFountain FernrayEhemre FeroteJoseph FerreLewis FerretToseph FerriaKennedy FerrilConway FerrisPaul FerrisWilliam FesterElisha FettianManuel FevmandezFrederick FiardeJohn FicketCharles FieldJohn FieldingW FieldingWilliam FieldingJohn FifeEdwin FiferNathaniel FiggBenjamin FilesJean Francis FillearPatrick FillerWard FiltonJohn FimseyBartholomew FinaganDavid FinchJohn FincherGeorge FinerDennis FinesyFrancis FinleyJames FinleyDennis FinnJohn FinnJeremiah FinnerJonathan Finney (3)Seth FinneyThomas FinneyRobert FirmieJoseph FirthAsel FishDaniel FishEzekiel FishJohn FishNathaniel Fish (2)John FishamAbraham FisherArchibald FisherIsaac FisherJonathan FisherNathan FisherRobert Fisher (3)Simon FisherWilliam Fisher (2)William FiskJohn FistSolomon FistEbenezer FitchJedeiah FitchJosiah FitchPeter FitchTheopilus FitchTimothy FitchHenry FitchettWilliam FithinCristopher FittsPatrick Faroh FitzEdward FitzgeraldPatrick FitzgeraldThomas FleetJohn FletcherJohn FlingWilliam FlingJohn FlinnBerry FloydMichael FluortThomas FoggFrancis FollardJonathan FollettStephen FollowsJohn FolsomJohn FolstonJoseph FomsterLouis FongueDaniel FootSamuel FootZakiel FootJohn FootmanPeter ForbesBartholomew Ford (3)Daniel FordGeorge Ford (2)John FordPhilip FordWilliam FordBenjamin FordhamDaniel ForeHugh ForesythVancom ForqueMatthew ForgoughGeorge ForketSamuel ForquerNathaniel ForrestFrancis ForsterTimothy ForsytheJohn FortAnthony FortashEmanuel FortaudTohn FortuneThomas FosdickAndrew FosterAsa FosterBoston FosterConrad FosterEdward FosterEphraim PosterHenry Foster (2)George FosterJacob FosterJebediah FosterJosiah Foster (2)John Foster (6)Nathaniel FosterNicholas FosterWilliam FosterEphraim FostmanJohn FouberFrancis FoubertWilliam FoulyerEdward FouslerPruden FouvnaryGideon FowlerJames Fowler (2)John Fowler (2)Joseph FowlerMichael FowlerJohn Butler FoyWilliam FoyJared FoyerEbenezer FoxWilliam Fox (3)Jacob Frailey (2)Fortain FrancesJohn FrancesJoseph FrancesScobud FrancesJohn FrancisThomas Francis (2)William FrancisManuel FranciscoJean FrancoJean FrancoisAnthony FrankiePernell FranklinChristopher FranksMichael FranksJohn FrasierThomas FrasierNathaniel FraskJohn F FraversJohn FraviWilliam FreyAndrew FrazerThomas FrazierPierre FreasiIman FrebelWilliam FreebalCharles FreemanDavid FreemanHenry FreemanHumphrey FreemanJohn FreemanThomas Freeman (2)Zebediah FreemanJames FrenchJonathan FrenchMichael FrenchJosias FrettJohn FrettoJuban FrewayAnthony FrickPost FriendShadrach FriendJames FrierisEbenezer FrisbyIsaac FrisbyJosiah FrithJohn FrostJoseph Frost (2)Peter FrumeJames Fry (2)Robert FryAbijah FryskeJoseph FubreJoseph FuganeyJoshua FulgerReuben FulgerStephen FulgerBenjamin FullerJames FullerJoseph FullerThaddeus FullerThomas Fuller (2)George FullumJames FultonThomas FultonAbner FurgusonSamuel FurgusonJohn FurseJohn FuryIman Futter

G

Eudrid GabriaFrancis GabrielFranes GabrielHernan GageIsaac GageMatthew GageStephen GageJonas GaleJoseph GalinaAndrew GallagerJohn GallardJohn GallaspieRichard GalleyWilliam GallwayAnthony GallysJames GambandJames GambleJoseph GamblePeter GamboPierre GanartWilliam GandeeWilliam GandelFrancis GandwayJohn GandyHosea GarardsAntony GardilSilas GardinerWilliam GardinerAlexander Gardner (3)Dominic GardnerJames Gardner (3)Joseph Gardner (5)Larry GardnerRobert GardnerSamuel GardnerSilas GardnerThomas GardnerUriah GardnerWilliam GardnerDominico GardonJohn GareyManolet GaricoJames GarishPaul GarishJohn Garland (2)Barney GarlenaJoseph Garley---- GarnerSilas GarnerJohn GarnetSylvester GarnettIsaac GarretMichael GarretJohn GarretsonAntonio GarrettJacques GarrettRichard GarrettWilliam GarrettLouis C. GarrierJacob Garrison (2)Joseph Garrison (3)Joseph GarritThomas GarriwayJean GarrowRoman GarseaWilliam GartyJob GascinDaniel GasettJacob GaskerSimon Gason (2)Manot GasseJohn GassersFrancis GaterCharles GatesPeter GaypeyJohn GaultPaul GaurThomas GaurmonThomas GawnerSolomon GayWilliam GayCharles GayfordJohn GaylorRobert GeddesGeorge George (2)George GeorgeanHooper GerardRiviere de GgoslinGeorge GillJohn GibbensEdward GibbertsonJohn GibbonsCharles Gibbs (3)John Gibbs (2)Andrew GibsonBenjamin GibsonGeorge GibsonJames GibsonWilliam GibsonStephen GiddronArchibald GiffordGeorge GilbertTimothy GilbertGeorge GilchristRobert GilchristJohn GilesSamuel Giles (2)Thomas GilesWilliam GilesJohn GillPhilip GillWilliam GillJohn GilladenJean B. GillenRichard GillenyWilliam GillespieJohn GillisJohn GillisonDavid GillispieDavid GillotToby GilmayJohn GilmontNathaniel GilsonThomas GimrayPeter GinnisJean GinnowBaptist GiraudJoseph GircaWilliam GisburnFrancis GissiaJean GlaiedCharles GlatesJean GleaseJean GleasieGabriel GlennThomas GlernerWilliam GlessonJames GloacqueWilliam GlormanEdward GlossMichael GlossesDaniel GloudJonathan GloverWilliam GloverThomas GoatEbenezer GoddardNicholas GoddardThomas GoddardJoseph GodfreyNathaniel GodfreySamuel GodfreySimon GodfreyThomas GodfreyWilliam Godfrey (4)Francis GodfryPierre GodtVincent GoertinPatrick GoffJohn GoingEbenezer GoldJohn GolstonWilliam GolstonRobert GomerPierre GoodallGeorge GoodbySimon GoodfreyEli GoodfryLemuel GoodingGeorge GoodleyFrancis GoodmanEli GoodnowElizer GoodrichJesse GoodrichSolomon GoodrichJames GoodwickCharles GoodwinDaniel GoodwinGeorge GoodwinGideon GoodwinOzeas GoodwinAbel GooseJames GootmanAbel Goove---- GoquieJonathan Goram (2)John GordAndrew GordanAndrew GordonJames Gordon (2)Peter GordonStephen GordonJesse GoreJonathan GorehamJames GorhamJonathan GorhamShubert GorhamJoseph GormiaChristian GosonWilliam GossJean GoteaGeorge GotheCharles GotsonFrancis GoudinLewis GouireAugustus GouteFrancis GoutiereJoseph GoveirSylverter GovellGeorge Gowell (2)Henry GowyallJean GoyearMatthew GraceWilliam GraftonAlexander GrahamRobert GrahamSamuel GrahamDavid GrainesRobert GrameL. A. GranadaWilliam GranbyAdam GrandellAlexander GrantThomas GrantWilliam GrantThomas GrassingWilliam GrattonEbenezer GraubDingley GrayFranes GrayJoseph Gray (2)James GraySamuel GraySimeon GraySimon GrayWilliam GrayIsaac GreemanAllen GreenElijah Green (2)Elisha GreenHenry GreenJohn Green (9)Joseph Green (2)Robert GreenRufus GreenWilliam Green (3)Green GreenburyEnoch GreencafeJames Greene (3)John Greene (4)Samuel GreeneJohn GreenesRichard GreenfieldAbner GreenleafJohn GreenothWilliam GreenvilleBarton GreenvilleMalum GreenwellRobert GreenwoldJacob GreenwoodDavid GregoryStephen Gregory (2)Ebenezer GrenachWilliam GrennisEbenezer GrenyardSamuel GreyCharles GrierIsaac GrierMather GrierWilliam GriersonMoses GriffenAlexander GriffinDaniel GriffinElias GriffinJames Griffin (2)Jasper GriffinJoseph GriffinMoses Griffin (2)Peter GriffinRosetta GriffinJames GriffithWilliam GriffithJames GrigJohn GriggsThomas GrilleyPeter GrinnPhilip GriskinEdward GrissellElijah GriswoldJotun GriswoldJohn GroganJoseph GroganJosiah GrosePeter GrosperBenjamin GrossMichael GrossSimon P. GrossTonos GrossPeleg GrotfieldJohn GrothonAndrew GrottisJoseph GrouanMichael GroutStephen GroveThomas Grover (2)John GrubaSamuel GrudgePeter GruinGeorge GrymesJohn GuaeCyrus GuanElisha GuardeJohn GuasonJohn GuayBense GuenarNathaniel GuggPierre GuilberJohn GuilleyPeter GuinWilliam GuinepJoseph GuinessJoseph GuinetWilliam GulirantJoseph GullionSouran GultJean GumeuseAntonio GundasJulian GunderWilliam GunnupJean GunteerPierre GuradAnthony GurdellFranes GusboroGeorge GusterJean Joseph GuthandFrancis GuvareWilliam Gwinnup

H

Samuel HackerJohn HackettBenjamin HaddockCaraway HaganAnthony de la HageJames HaggartyJohn HaglusEbenezer HailDavid HalbortWilliam HaldronMatthew HalesAaron HallEbenezer HallIsaac HallJames HallJohn Hall (3)Joseph HallLondon HallLyman HallMillen HallMoses HallNathan HallSamuel HallSpence HallThomas Hall (3)William HallWillis HallThomas HallahanJames HallaughanBenjamin Hallett (2)James Hallett (2)Ephraim HalleyJohn HalleyJoseph Halley (2)Samuel HalleyRichard HalleyCharles HallwellHenry HalmanWilliam HalseyMoses HaltonJesse HaltsByron HalwayBenjamin HalwellJames HamLevi HamReuben HambellWilliam HamberEmpsen HamiltonHenry Hamilton (2)John Hamilton (2)William Hamilton (2)Flint HammerCharles HammondElijah HammondHomer HammondJames HammondJoseph HammondThomas HamsbyJames HanaganStephen HanaganHenry HanceAbraham HancockSamuel HancockElias HandElijah HandGideon HandJoseph Hand (2)Thomas HandWilliam HandLevi HandyThomas Handy (3)John HaneganJosiah HanesPatrick HanesSamuel HanesJohn HaneyGideon HanfieldPeter HankleyEvery HanksJohn HanningsHugh HansonJames HanwagonJonathan HanwoodJohn HanwrightNeil HarbertJohn HarbineDaniel HarbleyAugustus HarboroughPeter HarcourtJean HardLewis HardenRichard HardenWilliam HardenTurner HardinFrances HardingNathaniel Harding (2)George HardyJames HardyJoseph Hardy (2)Thomas HarensJohn HarfunJoel HargeshonorJacob HargousAbraham HargusThomas HarkasyJohn HarketSolomon HarkeyThomas HarkinsCharles HarlinSelden HarleySolomon HarleyByron HarlowJohn HarmanRichard HarmanJohn HarmonJoseph HarnerWilliam HarragallJohn HarragallLewis HarrettBartholomew HarringtonDaniel HarringtonCharles HarrisEdward HarrisFrancis HarrisGeorge HarrisHugh HarrisJames Harris (2)John Harris (2)Joseph HarrisNathaniel Harris (2)Robert HarrisWilliam HarrisCharles HarrisonElijah HarrisonGilbert HarrisonJohn HarrisonWilliam HarronCharles HarroonCornelius HartJacob de HartJohn HartSamuel HartleyJacob HartmanJames HartshorneThomas HartusJohn HarwoodJohn HarveyPeter HaseltonMichael HashleyPhilip HashtonJohn HaskerJacob HassaJohn HassettJohn HasseyBenjamin HatamCharles HatborEdward HatchJason HatchNailor HatchPrince HatchReuben HatchWilliam HatchEdward HatchwayBurton HathawayJacob HathawayRussell HathawayWoolsey HathawayAndrew HattShadrach HatwayMichael HaupeJacob HauserWilliam HawkeJacob HawkerJohn HawkerJohn HawkinChristopher HawkinsJabez HawkinsJohn Hawkins (2)Thomas HawkinsJacob HawstickJohn HawstonGeorge HaybudBenjamin HaydenNicholas HaymanDavid HayneJoseph HaynesPeter Haynes (2)Thomas HaynesWilliam HaynesDavid HaysPatrick HaysThomas HaysWilliam HaysWilliam HaysfordBenjamin HazardJohn HazardSamuel HeageorkGilbert HeartSamuel HeartJoseph HearthCharles HeathJoseph HeathSeren HeathSeson HeathJack HebellHeraclus HedgesGeorge HeftEdmund HelbowMatthias HellmanLacy HelmanThomas HelmanOdera HemanaDaniel HemdyJared HemingwayAlexander HendersonEphraim HendersonJoseph HendersonMichael HendersonRobert HendersonWilliam HendersonArchibald HendrayRobert HengryLeeman HenleyButler HenryJames HenryJohn Henry (3)Joseph HenryMichael Henry (2)William Henry (2)John HensbyPatrick Hensey (2)Enos HenumwayDennis HenyardSamson HerartThomas HerbertPhilip HerewuxEphraim HerrickJohn Herrick (2)William HerrickMichael HerringWilliam HerringRobert HerrowRobert HersonRobert HertsonAugustin HertrosStephen HeskilsJohn HetheringtonJohn HewengsLewis HewitWilliam HeyshamDiah HibbettJohn HibellMichael HickDaniel HickeyBaptist HicksBenjamin HicksJohn HicksIsaac HigganoGeorge HigginsIchabod HigginsSamuel HigginsStoutly HigginsWilliam Higgins (3)Henry HighlanderJohn HighlenedeJohn Hill (2)James HillJoshua Hill (2)Thomas Hill (2)Edward HilleyJames HilliardJoseph HilliardNicholas HilloryHale HiltonNathaniel HiltonBenjamin HimsleyPeter HinchJames HinesWilliam HinleyAaron HinmanWilliam HinmanNathaniel HinnranJonathan HintJohn HirichChristian HirisSamuel HironJohn HisburnNathaniel HiseSamuel HiskmanJohn HislopPhilip HissLoren HitchRobert HitchJoseph HitchbandEdward HitchcockRobert HitcherJohn HitchingArthur HivesWillis HoagEdwin HoaneHenry HobbsWilliam HobbsJacob HobbyNathaniel HobbyJoseph HocklessHugh HodgeHercules Hodges (2)Benjamin HodgkinsonSamuel HodgsonConrad HoffmanCornelius HoffmanRoger HoganStephen HoganStephen HogganAlexander HogsartJacob HogworthyEphraim HoistHumphrey HoitesLemuel HokeyWilliam HoldWilliam HoldenThomas HoldridgeJohn HollandMichael HollandWilliam Holland (2)Nicholas HollenWilliam HollidayMichael HollowayMyburn HollowayGrandless HollyHenry HolmanIsaac HolmesJames HolmesJoseph HolmesNathaniel HolmesThomas Holmes (3)George HolmsteadCharles HoleSamuel HoltJames HomeJacob HomerWilliam HomerWilliam HoneymanSimon HongWarren HonlapDaniel Hood (2)Nicholas Hoogland (2)George HookJohn Hook (2)George HookerEzekiel HooperJohn Hooper (3)Michael Hooper (3)Sweet HooperCaleb HopkinsChristopher HopkinsJohn HopkinsMichael HopkinsStephen HopkinsWilliam HopkinsEdward HopperJohn HopperRichard HoppingLevi HoppinsJoseph Horn (2)Jacob HorneJohn HorneRalph HorneSamuel HorneAugusta HornsMichael HoroeCharles HorsineEphraim HortJean HoseaJohn HoseyJean HoskinsJames HottahonEbenezer HoughEnos HouseSeren HouseNoah HovardJoseph HoveyJohn HoweAbsalom HowardEbenezer HowardJohn HowardRichard HowardThomas HowardWilliam Howard (3)James HowburnEdward HoweJohn HoweThomas HoweEbenezer HowellJesse HowellJonathan HowellJohn HowellLuke HowellMichael HowellThomas HowellWaller HowellWilliam HowellDaniel HowlandJoseph HowmanBenjamin HoydeDolphin HubbardJacob HubbardJames HubbardJoel HubbardMoses HubbardWilliam HubbardAbel HubbellWilliam HuddleJohn HudmanFawrons HudsonJohn HudsonPhineas HudsonJohn HuetConrad HuffmanStephen HuggandJohn HugginsAbraham HughesFelix HughesGreenberry HughesGreenord HughesJesse HughesJohn HughesPeter HughesThomas HughesPierre HujuonRichard HumphreyClement HumphriesW W HumphriesEphraim HunnCephas HuntJohn Hunt (2)Robert HuntAlexander HunterEzekiel HunterGeorge HunterRobert HunterTurtle HunterRechariah HunterElisha HuntingtonJoseph HarandBenjamin HurdJoseph HurdSimon HurdAsa HurlbutGeorge HusbandJohn HusbandNegro HusonCharles HussIsaac HussJesse HusseyJames HustonZechariah HutchinsEsau HutchinsonJohn HutchisonAbraham Smith HydeVincent Hyer

I

Joseph IgnacisIvede Sousis IlliumbeBenjamin IndecotIsaac IndegonJohn IngersallHenry Ingersoll (2)John IngrahamJoseph IngrahamJoshua IngrahamPhilip IgnissitaJoseph IrasettoDavid IrelandJames IrelandJoseph IrelandMichael IrvinGeorge IrwinMichael IrwinIsaac IsaacsGeorge IsmayGospar IsraelJames IvansJohn IvingtonFrancis D Izoguirre

J

Michael JacenBlack JackJohn Jack (2)John Jacks (2)Frederick Jacks (2)George Jacks (2)Henry JacksJohn JacksJohn JacksonJames JacksonJosiah JacksonNathaniel JacksonPeter JacksonRobert JacksonJean JacobsBella JacobsJoseph JacobsWilson JacobsAndrew JacobusGuitman JacquesGuitner JacquesLewis JacquesPeter JadanJohn JaikesBenjamin JamesJohn James (2)Ryan JamesWilliam JamesDaniel JamisonJosiah JanesJean JardinFrancis JarnanEdward JarvisPetuna JarvisNegro JaskJohn JasseyFrancis JatielClement JeanJoseph JeanWilliam JeanBenjamin JeanesaryRoswell JeffersSamuel JeffersJames JeffreyJohn JeffriesJoseph JeffriesPhilip JeffriesGeorge JemreyPierre JengouxDavid JenkinEnoch JenkinsGeorge JenkinsSolomon JenkinsGeorge JenneyJohn JenneyLangdon JenneyLanghorn JenneyNathaniel JenningsThomas JenningsWilliam JenningsJohn JennyLanghorn JennyFrances JerunAbel JesbankOliver JethsamGermain JeuneSilas JilesNathan JinksMoses JinneyVerd JoamraManuel JoaquireRobert Job---- JoeThomas JoelElias Johnson (2)Francis JohnsonGeorge JohnsonJames Johnson (3)John Johnson (3)Joseph JohnsonMajor JohnsonSamuel JohnsonStephen JohnsonWilliam Johnson (8)Ebenezer JohnstonEdward JohnstonGeorge JohnstonJohn Johnston (2)Joseph JohnstonMajor JohnstonMichael JohnstonMiller JohnstonPaul JohnstonPeter JohnstonRobert Johnston (3)Samuel JohnstonSimon JohnstonStephen JohnstonWilliam Johnston (8)William B. JohnstonJames JohnstoneJohn JoieThomas JoilAdam Jolt---- JoanBenjamin JonasAbraham JonesAlexander JonesBenjamin Jones (3)Beal JonesClayton JonesDarl JonesEdward Jones (2)James JonesJib JonesJohn Jones (7)Thomas Jones (2)Richard Jones (2)Samuel Jones (3)William Jones (10)Jean JordanJohn JordanPhilip JordanNicholas Jordon (2)Anthony JosephAntonio JosephEmanuel JosephThomas JosephWilliam JoslittAntonio JouestThomas JouletJean JourdanaMousa JouseghJean JoweThomas JoweCurtis JoyJosiah JoyPeter Joy (2)Samuel JoySamuel JoyceConrad JoycelinRandon JucbaManuel Joseph JucerriaPeter JulianHenry JunasHenry Junus (2)Jacques JurdantGeorge JusterSamuel JusticeSimeon JustiveGeorge JustusPhilip Justus

K

Mark KadoodyJonn KamLewis KaleBarney KaneEdward KaneJohn KanePatrick KaneThomas KaneSprague KeanThomas KeanNathaniel KeardWilliam KearyTuson KeathDaniel KeatonSamuel KelbeySamuel KelbyJohn KellerAbner KelleyJohn Kelley (5)Michael Kelley (2)Oliver KelleyPatrick KelleySamuel KelleyWilliam KelleyRoy KellreyAbner Kelly (2)Hugh KellyJames KellyJohn KellyRoger KellySeth KellyTimothy KellyNehemiah KelivanOlgas KilterWilliam KemplinSimon KenimCharles KennedayJames KennedayJonathan KennedayNathaniel KennedayRobert Kenneday (2)Thomas KennedayWilliam Kenneday (2)David KennedyJames KennedyJohn Kenney (2)William KenseyElisha KenyonJoson KerJohn KerrilWilliam Kersey (2)Edward KetchamSamuel KetchamWilliam KeybornAnthony KeysJohn KeysMichael KeysJean KiblanoJames KicksonGeorge KiddJohn KiddJames KidneyManuel KidtonaThomas KilbourneJohn KilbyLewis KildareJohn KilfundySamuel KillenWilliam KillenhouseSamuel KillerCharles KillisGustavus KillmanDaniel KilrayJohn KiltsNathaniel KimberellCharles KingGilbert KingJonathan KingJohn King (4)Joseph King (4)Michael KingRichard KingWilliam KingNathaniel KingsburyWilliam KingsleySamuel KinneyJosiah KinslandBenjamin KinsmanCharles KirbyJohn KirkWilliam KirkJacob KislerEdward KitchenJohn KitlerEbenezer KnappJames KnappBenjamin Knight (2)Job KnightReuben KnightThomas Knight (2)James Knowles (2)Nathaniel KnowlesJames KnowlsEdward KnowltonWilliam KnowltonJeremiah Knox (2)John KnoxEzekiel KuthoopenLouis Kyer

L

Basil LabanPierre LabonFrancois LaboneDeman LabordasFortne LabordeFrederick LabordeAnton LacaMichael La CasawyneJohn LackChristopher LaconOliver LacopeGuilham La CoqueAnthony LafartDennis LaffertyPierre La FilleAnthony LagarvetJeff LaggolfSamuel LaightonThomas LaiguePeter LainChristopher Laird (3)John Laird (2)Simon LakeThomas LakeNathan LakemanThomas LaleySamson LalleyJohn LalourDavid LambWilliam LambPierre LambertRichard Lambert (2)Cayelland LambraThomas LambudaEvena LameThomas LameJean LameariMichael LameovaAlexander Lamere (2)Roque LamieHenry LandStephen LandartGeorge LandonPeter LandonWilliam LaneJohn LangdonJonathan LangerDarius LangfordWilliam LangfordJohn LanglerObadiah LangleyThomas Langley (2)James LanglordJoseph LangolaAndrew LangolleThomas LangstaffFranes LangumFrancois Lan HubereSamuel LanmanNicholas LanmandWilliam LanvathDavid LaphamBundirk LaplaineJoseph La PlanJames LapthornPierre LaquiseFrancis LaradaMatthew La RaisonCharles LarbysThomas LarkinJames LarkinsGillian LaroacheBundirk LarplairnePierre LarquanBenjamin LarrickLewis LarsolanGuillemot LascopeJulian LascopeJoseph LaselieveJohn LasheityWilliam LaskenJachery LasocaDavid LassanMichael LasslyPierre LastioDavid LathamEdward LathamJames LathamThomas LathamElisha LathropJohn LathropHezekiah LathropSolomon LathropJames LatoverLorenzo LattamPeter LattimerThomas LattimerWilliam LattimerWilliam LattimoreFrederick LaskerWilliam LathmoreSamuel LauraJohn LaurenyHomer LauryMichael LasedDaniel LavetPierre LavigneMichael LavonaEzekiel Law (2)John LawRichard LawThomas LawMichael LawbridgeThomas LawranceAntonio LawrenceIsaac LawrenceJames LawrenceJohn Lawrence (2)Joseph LawrenceMichael LawrenceRobert LawrenceSamuel Lawrence (3)Thomas LawrenceWilliam Lawrence (2)John LawrieAndrew LawsonJoseph LawsonJoseph LawtonEdward LayLenolen LayfieldWilliam LayneJohn LayonsColsie LaytonJessie LaytonAnthonv LayzarEzekiel LeachThomas Leach (3)William LeachWilliam LeachsJohn LeafeatCornelius LearyJohn LeasearJohn LeatherbyLouis LeblancPhilip Le CaqWilliam Le CoseBaptist Le CourBenjamin LecraftJoseph LecreeAaron LeeAdam LeeDavid LeeHenry LeeJames LeeJohn LeeJosiah LeePeter LeeRichard Lee (3)Stephen LeeThomas Lee (3)James LeechJohn Leech (2)George LeechmanJack LeemeJoseph LeeraJean Lefant---- Le FargueMichael LefenSamuel Le FeverNathaniel Le FevereAlexander Le FongueJean Le FordHezekiah LegrangeThomas LegrangeJoseph LegroSamuel LegroGeorge LehmanGerge LehmanGeorge LeishJacob LelandeJeremiah LemanJohn LemeeRothe LemeeAbraham LemonPeter LernonasPierre LemonsJohn LemontPowell LemoskJohn LemotJames LenardJoseph LenardJohn LenhamTuft LenockJoseph LenozeJohn LeonardSimon LeonardLouis Le PachJoshua Le PoorePierre Le PortFrancis LepordPierre LepordPierre LerandierJean Le ReanJoseph Peccanti LescimiaJohn LessingtonJohn LessellChristian LesterHenry LesterLion LesterenEzekiel Letts (2)James LeuardAnthony LevandenThomas LeverettJohn LeverseyJoseph LevettNathaniel LeviBineva LevzieJean Baptiste LeynacNicholas L'HeroxPierre LiarJohn LidmanGeorge LichmondCharles LiekeradaCharles LiekeradanLouis LightJohn LightwellHomer LigondJoseph LilihornJonathan LillabridgeJoseph LillehornThomas LilliabridgeArmistead LillieJohn LillingJohn LimberickChristopher Limbourne (2)Lewis LincolnSamuel LindsayJames LindseyMatthew LindsleyWilliam LindsleyLamb LinesCharles LinnLewis LinotRichard LinthornNicholas LinvaSamuel LinzeyWilliam LinzeyJesse LippHenry LisbyFrancis LittleGeorge LittleJohn Little (3)Philip LittleThomas LittleThomas LittlejohnWilliam LittletonThomas LivetLicomi LizarnJames LloydSimon LloydWilliam LloydLones LochareJohn LoganPatrick LogardEve LogoffSamuel LombardJohn LondonRichard LondonAdam LoneChristian LongEnoch LongJeremiah LongWilliam LongMartin LongueEmanuel LoperJoseph LopezDaniel LoranJohn LorandNathaniel LordWilliam LoremanFrancis LoringJohn LortThomas LortonJean LossettWilliam LottDavid LouisJohn Love (2)Stephen LoveThomas LoveJohn LoveberryWilliam LoverinJames LovettThomas Lovett (2)James LowWilliam LowJohn LoweAbner Lowell (2)Israel LowellJonathan LowellJohn LoweringJacob LowerreRobert Lowerre (2)Robert LowerryJohn LoweryPhilip LowettJohn LowringPierre LozalieJacques LubardJames LucasLucian LucasJean LucieWilliam LuckerWilliam Luckey (2)W. LuddsSamuel LuderDavid LudwithPeter LumbardFrancois LumbrickJoseph Lunt (3)Skipper LuntPhilip LuteNehemiah LutherReuben LutherBenjamin LuysterAugustin LuzardAlexander LyelarCharles LyleWitsby LinbickJean LyntonPeter LyonSamuel LyonArchibald LyonsDaniel LyonsEphraim LyonsEzekiel LyonsJonathan LyonsSamuel Lyons

M

Jean Franco MabugeraJohn MacayNicholas McCantJohn MaceAnthony MacguirePierre MarkerWilliam MacgneolRomulus MackroyJohn Madding (2)Peter MaddingPeter MaggotJohn MaginonStringe MahlanPeter MahrinJean MaikserWilliam MainJoseph MainwrightSimon MajoPierre MalaqueJohn MaleonLewis MalcomMaurice MalcomJohn MaleWilliam MalenFrancis MalerMatthew MalkellanEnoch MallDaniel MallebyThomas MallebyFrederick MalleneuxJohn MalletDaniel MalloryJohn MalonePaul MaloryThomas MakendNathaniel Mamford---- MamneyPeter ManafordJosiah ManarsJohn ManchesterSilas ManchesterThaddeus ManchesterEdward MandEdward MandaJonathan MandevineurSylvester ManeinPierre ManeitEtien ManettGeorge ManettGeorge MangooseJohn ManheeWilliam ManillaAnthony MankanJacob ManloreWilliam ManloveJohn ManlyJames MannJohn ManorIsaac MansBenjamin MansfieldHemas MansfieldWilliam MansfieldJoseph MantseaJonathan MaplesJean MapsonAuree Marand---- MarbinneaMary MarblynEtom MarcaisJames MarceyJean MargabtaJean MarguieTimothy MariartyJohn Mariner (2)Hercules Mariner (2)Elias MarkhamThomas MarleJames MarleyJean MarlganFrancis MarmillaDavid MarneyJames MarriottZachary MarrallWilliam MarranJames MarriottAlexander MarseJarnes MarshBenjamin MarshallJames MarshallJohn MarshallJoseph MarshallSamuel MarshallThomas MarshallTimothy MarsonThomas MarstonAdam MartellusAntonio MartiAnanias MartinDamon MartinDaniel MartinDaniel F. MartinEmanuel MartinEmbey MartinFrancis MartinGeorge MartinGilow MartinJacob MartinJames MartinJesse MartinJohn Martin (4)Joseph Martin (3)Lewis MartinMartin MartinMichael MartinPeter MartinPhilip MartinSamuel Martin (2)Simon MartinThomas Martin (2)William Martin (3)Jose Martine (2)Thomas MartinePierre MartinettPhilip MartingMartin MartinsOliver MartonJohn MartonBaptist MarvellonAnthony MarwinAndrew MasarThomas MashMatthew MaskillonThomas MasleyJean MasoAugustus MasonFrancis MasonGerard B. MasonHalbert MasonJames MasonLouis MasonCharles MassaaJames MasseyJames MastonPierre MathamiceJames MathesJeffrey MathewsJohn MathewsJoseph Mathews (2)Josiah MathewsRichard Mathews (2)Robert MathewsThomas MathewsWilliam Mathews (2)Thomas MathewsonRobert MathiasJoseph MatreJames MatsonWilliam MattergaGeorge MatthewsJoseph MatthewsJosiah MatthewsRichard MatthiasThomas MaunJames MauriceJohn MawdolePatrick MaxfieldDaniel MaxwellDavid MaxwellGeorge MaxwellJames Maxwell (6)John Maxwell (3)William Maxwell (5)George MayJohn Maye (3)John MaygehanPierre Maywer (3)Parick McAllisterCharles McArthurJohn McArthurPeter McCalpanNathaniel McCampseyWilliam McCaneryEdward McCannDaniel McCape (2)Andrew McCartyCornelius McCartyWilliam McCartyJohn M. McCashFrancis McClainJames McClanaganDaniel McClaryHenry McCleafPatrick McClemensJohn McCleshPatrick McCloskeyMurphy McCloudPeter McCloudJames McClureWilliam McClureJohnston McCollisterJames McCombPaul McComeJames McConnellHugh McCormacJames McCormickWilliam McCowanDonald McCoyGeorge McCoyPeter McCoySamuel McCoyJohn McCradyGilbert McCrayJohn McCrayRoderick McCreaPatrick McCuilaFrancis McCullamWilliam McCullockDaniel McCulloughWilliam McCulloughPatrick McCullumCaleb McCullyArchibald McCunnJames McDaniel (3)John McDanielJohn McDavidWilliam McDermottAlexander McDonaldDonald McDonaldJohn McDonaldPetre McDonaldWilliam McDonald (2)Patrick McDonough (2)William McDougallEbenezer McEntireJohn McEvanJohn McFagginsJames McFallBradford McFarlanDaniel McFarlandWilliam McFarland (2)Bradford McFarlingBushford McFarlingJohn McFamonWilliam McGandyJohn McGee (2)Andrew McGelpin (3)James McGeerJohn McGey (3)Arthur McGillJames McGillHenry McGinnessJames McGinnissJohn McGogginRobert McGonnegrayJames McGowanJohn McGoyBarnaby McHenryDuncan MclntirePatrick McKayMatthew McKellumBarnaby McKenryJohn McKensieThomas McKeonPatrick McKeyJames McKinney (2)John McKinseyGeorge McKinsleWilliam McKinsleyBenjamin McLachlanEdward McLainLewis McLainPhilip McLaughlinDaniel McLayneJames McMichaelPhilip McMonoughFrancis McNameJohn McNauchArchibald McNealJohn McNealJames McNeilWilliam McNeilJohn McNishMolcolm McPhermanWilliam McQueenCharles McQuillianSamuel McWatersSamuel MecuryJohn MedaffJohn MedeJoshua MedisabelJoseph MeackJohn MeakUsell MeechenAbraham MeekJoseph MeekTimothy MeekJohn MegoSpringale MeinsWilliam MelchJoseph MellinsHarvey MellvilleWilliam MeloneAdam MeltwardGeorge MelvinLewis MenealJohn MenelickJean Baptist MenlichWilliam MellwoodJohn MercatenJames MercerRobert Mercer (2)Jean Merchant (2)John MerchantPeter MerchantWilliam MerchantJohn MerchaudSylvester MercyBistin MereffJean MeritwellFrancis MerlinJohn MerlinAugustus MerrickJohn MerrickJoseph MerrickSamuel MerrickNimrod MerrillJohn MerrittJohn MerryJohn MerseanClifton MerserJohn MerseyAbner MersickWilliam MessdoneThomas MessellGeorge MessingburgGeorge MessmongThomas MetsardJob MeyrickRoger MickeyThomas MigillJames MigleyJean MilcherJohn Miles (2)Segur MilesThomas MilesTimothy MilesGeorge MildredJames MillbownRobert MillburnJohn MillenChristopher MillerDavid MillerEbenezer MillerElijah Miller (2)George MillerJacob MillerJohn Miller (3)John James MillerJonathan MillerMichael MillerPeter MillerSamuel Miller (2)William Miller (2)Maurice MilletThomas MilletFrancis MillsJohn Mills (2)William MillsDirk MinersJohn MinkRenard MinkLawrence MinnharmArnold MinowKiele MiresKoel MiresAnthony MitchellBenjamin MitchellJames MitchellJean MitchellJohn Mitchell (2)Joseph MitchellDavid P. MiteElijah MixJoseph MixPaul MixJames MoetWilliam MoffatDavid MoffetEmanuel MogueraPeter MoizanJoseph MolisanAlexander MollaMark MollianEthkin MollinasBartholomew MollingDaniel MollondJames MolloyJohn MolnyGilman MoloseEnoch MoltonGeorge MoltonIsaac MoneyPerry MongenderWilliam MonrassJames MonroAbraham MonroeJohn MonroeThomas MonroeDavid MontagueNorman MontagueWilliam MontagueLewis MontaireMatthew MorganFrancis MontesdagueGeorge Montgomery (2)James Montgomery (3)John Montgomery (2)James MoodySilas MoodyHugh MooneyAbraham Moore (2)Adam MooreFrederick MooreHenry MooreIsrael MooreJames MooreJohn Moore (2)Joseph MooreNathaniel MoorePatrick MooreRalph MooreRichard MooreSamuel MooreStephen MooreThomas Moore (6)Wardman MooreWilliam Moore (6)Charles MooseyJohn MootonAcri MoranaJohn MorantAdam MorareJohn Baptist MorawW. MorceGilmot MoreaToby MoreanJoseph MorehandAbel Morehouse (2)Grosseo MoreoJonathan MoreyLewis MoreyLouis MoreyAbel MorganHenry MorganJohn Morgan (3)Joseph MorganMatthew MorganJohn MorideEdward MoritzWilliam MoreinJames MorleyJohn MorrellOsborne MorrellRobert Morrell (3)Francis MorriceAndrew Morris (2)Daniel MorrisDavid MorrisEasins MorrisEdward MorrisFoster MorrisGouverneur MorrisJohn Morris (3)Matthew MorrisPhilip MorrisRobert MorrisW MorrisWilliam MorrisHugh MorrisinJames MorrisonMurdock MorrisonNorman MorrisonSamuel MorrisonRichard MorseSheren MorselanderWilliam MorselanderBenjamin MortimerRobert Mortimer (2)Abner Morton (2)George MortonJames MortonPhilip Morton (2)Robert MortonSamuel MortonPhilip MortongSimon MorzinNegro MosesDaniel MosiahSharon MoslanderWilliam MoslanderJohn Moss (2)Alexander MotleyWilliam MotleyElkinar MotheEnoch MotionBenjamin MotteFrancis MoucanJean MoucanGeorge MoultonJohn MoultonRichard MountJohn MuanbetHezekiah MuckJacob MuckleroyPhilip Muckleroy (2)Jacob MullenEleme MullentJean MullerLeonard MullerRobert MullerAbraham MulletJonathan MullinLeonard MullinJonathan MullinRobert MullinWilliam MullinEdward Mulloy (2)Francis MulloyRichard MumfordTimothy MumfordMichael MungenJohn MungonJohn MunroHenry MunrowRoyal MunrowThomas MunthbowkHosea MunulJames Murdock (2)John MurdockPeter MurlowDaniel Murphy (2)John MurphyNicholas MurphyPatrick MurphyThomas Murphy (2)Bryan MurrayCharles MurrayDaniel Murray (2)John Murray (4)Silas MurrayThomas MurrayWilliam MurrayAntonio Murria (2)David MurrowJohn MurrowSamuel MurrowAdam MurtilusRichard MurusAntonio MusquiEbenezer MutterJean MyattAdam Myers (2)George MylesHenry Myres

N

Ebenezer NabbDippen NackArchibald NailerThomas NandivaHosea NandusRichard NashJean NataltBenjamin NathanJoseph NathanJohn Nathey (2)Nathaniel NavalSimon NavaneFrancis NavasPierre NaveyDavid Neal (2)George NealWilliam NealsonEbenezer NeatingGideon NecarJoseph NegbelMichael NeggJohn NegisJames NegleeFrank NegroeJames NegroeJames NegusThomas NegusAbraham NeilsonAlexander NeilsonJames NeilsonJoseph NeilsonAlexander NelsonAndrew NelsonJohn Nelson (2)Joseph NelsonThomas Nelson (2)William NelsonThomas NesbittBartholomew NestoraFrancis NevilleJean NevilleMichael NevilleEbenezer NewallSucreason NewallWilliam NewardElisha NewburyAndrew NewcombJohn NewcombAndrew NewellAmos NewellJoseph NewellNathaniel NewellRobert NewellNicholas NewgalJoseph NewhallJoseph NewilleFrancis NewmanMoses NewmanNathaniel NewmanSamuel NewmanThomas Newman (4)Adam Newton (2)John NewtonWilliam NewtonAdam NewtownWilliam NewtownJohn NiesterJames NigleyRichard NichThomas NicherMartin NichetsRichard NicholasAllen NicholsGeorge NicholsJames NicholsJohn NicholsRichard NicholsAlexander NicholsonGeorge NicholsonSamuel NicholsonThomas NicholsonGeorge NicksGideon NighWilliam NightingaleJames NigleyFrank NilesRobert NixonJean NoblatArnox NobleJames NobleJohn Mary NobletJohn NockerWilliam NoelWilliam NoreJohn NorfleetProper NorgandJohn NorieJames NormanJohn NormanJoseph NormanPeter NormanJoseph NormayHenry NorrisAnfield NorthDaniel NorthronHarris NorthrupWilliam NorthrupElijah NortonJacob NortonJohn Norton (3)Nicholas NortonPeter NortonWilliam NortonJacques Norva (2)William NourseNathaniel NowellJoseph NoyesWilliam NursePierre NuternDavid Nutter (2)Joseph NutterJohn Nuttin (2)Ebenezer NuttingRobert Nyles

O

Charles OakfordSolomon OakleyJohn OakmanIsrael OatJoseph OatesJohn Obey (2)Cornelius O'BrienEdward O'BrienJohn O'BrienWilliam O'BryanDaniel ObourneSamuel OderonSamuel OdironPierre OgeeJohn OgillonRichard OgnerPatrick O'HaraRobert O'HaraPatrick O'HarraDaniel OlbroGeorge OldhamJohn OldsmithRaymond O'LarraDevoe OlayaZebulon OlayaDon R. Antonio OliveAnthony OliverJames Oliver (5)Zebulon OliverEbenezer OnswareAllan OrdJohn OrdJohn OrgallSebastian OrmanEdward OrmundeWilliam OrrJohn OrrockEmanuel OrseatPatrick OrsleyJohn OsbornJoseph OsbourneJohn OseglassStephen OsenaJohn OsgoodGabriel OshireJean OshireLouis OshireJohn OsmanHenry OswaldGregorian OthesAndre Otine (2)Samuel OtisBenjamin OtterJohn OublerCharles OusanonSamuel OuseyWilliam OuseyJay OutonJohn OuttonJonathan OvansSamuel OvellVincent OverattSamuel OvergormLewis OwalJohn OwenAnthony OwensArchibald OwensBarnick OwensJames OwensJohn OwensSamuel Owens

P

Jean PacketAbel PaddockJoseph PaddockSilas PaddockDaniel PaddockJourney PadouanB. PainJacob PainterHenry PainterJohn PalicutDaniel PalmerElisha PalmerGay PalmerGeorge PalmerJames PalmerJohn PalmerJonas PalmerJoshua PalmerLemuel PalmerMatthew PalmerMoses PalmerPhilip PalmerWilliam Palmer (4)Peter PalotMoses PalotNicholas PamphillionEmea PanierAnthony PanksJoseph PardeChristopher PardindesJacob PardleyJohn ParishGeorge ParkJohn ParkardThomas ParkardGeorge L. ParkeJoseph ParkensAmos ParkerEbenezer ParkerEdward ParkerGeorge Parker (2)John Parker (4)Luther Parker (2)Peter ParkerSamuel Parker (2)Thaddeus ParkerTimothy ParkerGeorge ParksRichard ParksThomas ParksonJoseph ParlotThomas ParnellJean ParolSebastian ParongDominick ParpotGabriel ParrieFrancis ParshallJames Parsons (3)Jeremiah ParsonsJohn ParsonsJoseph ParsonsSamuel ParsonsStephen ParsonsWilliam Parsons (2)James PartridgeRoman PascanEdmund PaschalLeroy PasehallRichard PassWilliam PassIsrael PatchJoseph PatrickDavid PatridgeEdward PattersonHance PattersonJohn Patterson (2)Peter PattersonW. PattersonWilliam PattersonWilliam PaulPierre PayattJames PayneJosiah PayneOliver PayneThomas Payne (3)William Payne (2)William PaytonJohn PeacockBenjamin PeadeBenjamin PealSamuel PealerWilliam PealsJohn PearAmos PearceBenjamin PearceJohn PearceJonathan PearceEdward PearsolJohn PearsonGeorge PeasoodElisha PeaseEstrant PeaseGuliel PechinAndrew Peck (2)Benjamin PeckJames PeckJoseph Peck (2)Simon PeckWilliam PeckBenjamin PeckeGardner PeckhamJohn PeckworthZachary PeddlefootSolomon PedgoreEdward PedlockAlexander PeesJohn PeesSilas PeggetJean PegitJohn PelitPierre PelitSamuel PellSebastian PelleJacques Peloneuse---- PelriceGothard PelriceJohn PelvertAmos Pemberton (2)Thomas PembertonWilliam PembertonJohn PendletonSylvester Pendleton (2)---- PenfieldPeter PenoyJames PenwellJohn Baptist PeomondAlfred PeoseMichael PepperThomas PerallJames PerilCharles PerinellPeter PerieuCharles PerkinellCharles PerkmellJabez PerkinsJonathan PerkinsJoseph PerkinsWilliam PerkinsAntonio PermanoufPeter PeronsPeter PeroraPierre PeroutJohn PerryJoseph PerryRaymond PerryRichard PerryWilliam Perry (7)Manuel PersonJabez PervisJean PeshireJohn Peterkin (2)Francis PetersJohn Peters (2)Aaron PetersonHance PetersonJoseph Peterson (2)James PetreWilliam PettDaniel PettisEphraim PettisNathan PettisIsaac PettitJoseph Antonio PezesThomas PhilbrookJohn Philip (2)Joseph PhilipLewis PhilipPierre PhilipJohn PhilipsLewin PhilipsNathan PhilipsThomas PhilipsEdward PhillipsJohn Phillips (2)Samuel PhillipsJames PhimmerJoseph PhipiseNathaniel PhippinThomas PhippinJean PicherJuan PickoPierre PickoletRichard Pierce (2)Stephen PierceJeremiah PierelJean PierreJesse PierreJucah PierreJoseph PiersonAmos PikeJohn PikeGeorge PillJoseph PillionTruston PilsburyJohn PimeltonSimeon PimeltonJames Pine (2)Charles PinkelJonathan PinkmanRobert PinkmanAugustus PionHenry PiponJean PisungElias PitchcockSele PitkinsJohn PitmanJonathan Pitman (2)Thomas PittJohn PittmanW. PittsNathaniel PlachoresElton PlanetEtena PlanettJohn PlatteWilliam PlemateFrancis PlentyJohn PloughmanThomas PlunkettJames PlumerJohn PlumsteadThomas PlunkettMotthew PobleHenry PoganDaniel PogesSalvador PogsinMichael PoinchetGilman PoirantWilliam PokeJohn PolandJohn PollardPeter PollardJonathas PollinElham PoloskiSamuel PolseWilliam PolseCharles PondPennell PondPeter PondCulman PoniFancis PonsardHosea PontarJoseph PontestyRobert PoolDavid PooleHosea PooleJohn PooleRichard PooleRobert PooleMorris PoorThomas PoorHenry PooreMorris PooreWilliam PooreAlexander PopeJohn PopeEtienne PorlacuNathaniel PorsonAnthony PortCharles Porter (3)David Porter (3)Edward PorterFrederick PorterHoward PorterJohn Porter (2)Thomas PorterWilliam PorterFrank PortoisSeren PoseterJeremiah PostJean PostianEdward PostureThomas PostureThomas PoteerAbijah PotterCharles PotterEphraim PotterRufus PotterMark PouchettJean PoullainMark B PoullamWilliam PowderJohn PowellThomas PowellWilliam PowderPatrick PowerRichard PowersStephen PowersNicholas Prande (2)Benjamin PrateJames PrateEbenezer PrattEzra Pratt (2)Andre PrenoNathaniel PrentissRobert PrentissStanton PrentissAndrew PressonIsaac PressonBenjamin PrettymanJohn Pribble (2)Edward Price (2)Joseph PriceNathaniel PriceReason Price (2)Richard PriceSamuel PriceWilliam PriceJohn PrichardJonathan PrideWilliam PrielHenry PrimmEdward PrimusCharles PrinceNegro PrinceNicholas PristonJames ProbyJames ProctorJoseph ProctorSamuel ProctorClaud ProvostPaul ProvostJohn Proud (2)Joseph ProudJoseph ProughtLewis de PueJames PulletPierre PuncePeter PurlettWilliam PurnellEdward PursellAbraham PutnamCreece Putnam

Q

James Quality (3)Joseph QualityJosiah QualitySamuel QuamerThomas QuandLouis QuelgriseDuncan Quigg (2)James QuinchSamuel QuinnCharles QuiotSamuel Quomer

R

Thomas RaceAntonio RackalongPatrick RaffertyDaniel RaidenMichael RaingulRichard RainhamThomas RainiotGeorge RambertPeter RamliesJoseph RamsdaleAbner RamsdenJean C. RanBenjamin RandallCharles RandallEdward RandallJesse RandallJoseph RandallNathaniel Randall (2)Thomas RandallWilliam Randall (2)Dolly RandelPaul RandellJoseph Randell (2)Joses RandellGeorge RandellPaul RandellGeorge RandelsNathaniel RandolJean Baptiste RanoBenjamin RanshawJames RantNorman RathbunRoger RathbunPeter RathburnSamuel RathburnRogers RathburnePeter RattanArthur RawsonFrancis RawsonJames RawsonAlexander RayJohn RayNathaniel RayNathaniel RayeGeorge RaymondJames RaymondWilliam RaymondWilliam RaymonsJean RaynorBenjamin ReadOliver ReadeJeremiah ReardonLewis RecourJohn RedJames RedfieldEdward RedickBenjamin RedmanAndre ReadBarnard ReedChristian ReedCurtis ReedEliphaz ReedGeorge ReedJeremiah ReedJob ReedJohn Reed (2)Jonathan ReedJoseph ReedLevi ReedThomas Reed (2)William Reed (2)John ReefNicholas ReenThomas ReevesJacques RefitterJulian ReganHugh ReidJacob ReitonJean RemongJean Nosta RenanLouis RenandJohn ReneanPierre RenearThomas ReneeThomas RennickFrederick RenoJean RenovilMichael RenowJean ReoBarton RepentJean RequalJesse ResterLouis RewofThomas ReyneldsElisha ReynoldsNathaniel ReynoldsRichard Reynolds (2)Thomas ReynoldsThomas ReyzickSylvester RhodesThomas de RibasGeorge RibbleBenjamin RiceEdward RiceJames RiceJohn Rice (2)Nathaniel RiceNoah RiceWilliam RiceElisha RichFreeman RichJohn RichMatthew RichNathan RichBenjamin RichardDiah RichardsGilbert RichardsJames RichardsJohn RichardsOliver RichardsPierre RichardsWilliam RichardsDavid RichardsonJohn RichardsonPierre RichardsonWilliam RichardsonCussing RichmanEbenezer RichmanBenjamin RichmondSeth RichmondClement RickerJohn RickettNathaniel RickmanLewis RiddenIsaac RiddlerLewis RiderJohn RidersJohn RidgeJohn RidgwayIsaac RidlerAmos RidleyThomas RidleyDavid RieveIsrael RievesJacob RightJames RigmorseJoseph RigoHenry RikerR. RikerJames RileyPhilip RileyPhilip RillyPierre RingurdJohn RionDaniel RiordanPaul RipleyRamble RipleyThomas RipleyEbenezer RitchJohn RiverJoseph RiverPaul RiversThomas RiversJohn RivingtonJoseph RoachLawrence RoachWilliam RoasThomas RobbJames RobehairdArthur RobertJohn RobertJulian RobertAaron Roberts (2)Edward RobertsEpaphras RobertsJames Roberts (2)Joseph RobertsMoses Roberts (2)William Roberts (4)Charles Robertson (2)Elisha RobertsonEsau RobertsonGeorge RobertsonJames Robertson (3)Jeremiah RobertsonJohn Robertson (6)Joseph RobertsonSamuel RobertsonThomas RobertsonDaniel RobinsEnoch RobinsJames RobinsWilliam RobinsAnthony RobinsonEbenezer RobinsonEnoch RobinsonJames Robinson (2)Jehu RobinsonJohn Robinson (3)Joseph RobinsonMark RobinsonNathaniel RobinsonThomas RobinsonWilliam RobinsonJohn RockwayDaniel RockwellJabez RockwellElisha RockwoodAnthony RoderickJean Raptist RodentJames RodgersMichael RodieuFrancis RodrigoFranco RogeasRobert RogerDudson RogersEbenezer RogersEmanuel RogersGeorge Rogers (3)John Rogers (5)Nicholas RogersPaul RogersThomas RogersWilliam RogersJohn RogertJoseph RogetJean RogueJohn Francis RogueJohn RokeJohn RollinPaul RollinsToby RollinsFrancis RomanPetre RomaryDiego RomeriaBenjamin RomulusLewis RonderJack RonePaul RopeleyBartram RopperGideon Rose (2)John Rose (2)Philip RoseProsper RoseJean RoseaAugustus RoseauGuilliam RoseauJean Baptist RosuaWilliam RoseAndrew RossArchibald RossDaniel Ross (3)David RossJames RossMalone RossThomas RossWilliam Ross (3)Bostion RoteslarJohn RothSamuel RothburnBenjamin RothersJean Baptist RougeJean James RougeCharles RoulongHampton RoundJohn RoundNathan RoundSamuel RoundAndrew RouseClaud RouseDaniel RoushHampton RoweJohn RoweWilliam RoweGeorge RowenGeorge RowingPatrick RowlandJohn RowleyShter RowleyJohn Frederick RowlinWilliam RowseryJames RowsonAugustus RoyenJohn RoysterRichard RoysterBlost RozeaLawrence RozisPeter RubanEbenezer RubeThomas RubinEden RuddockEzekiel RudeJohn RuffewayLewis RuffieHenry RumsowerJoseph RunyanNathaniel RuperJohn RupperDaniel RuseDaniel RushEdward RussellJacob RussellPierre RussellSamuel RussellValentine RussellWilliam RussellJohn RustWilliam Rust (2)John Ruth (2)Pompey RutleyPierre RyerJacob RyanFrank RyanMichael RyanPeter RyanThomas RyanRenee Ryon

S

Francisco SablongJohn SachelJonathan SachellGeorge SaddenGeorge SaddlerJohn SadensAbraham SageEdward SaillyJohn SaintElena SaldatGilbert SalinstallLuther SalisburyMichael SallibieJohn SalmonJohn SalterThomas SalterEdward SamePierre SamleighJacob SammianStephen Sampson (2)Charles SandHenry SandersManuel SandovahEwing SandsStephen SandsDaniel SanfordAnthony SantisThomas SarbettLouis SardePeter SarfeJuan SassettDavid SassonJonathan SatchellWilliam SaterlyJohns SatheleJoseph SattonEdward SauceAugustus SaundersDaniel SaundersJohn SaundersAllen SavageBelias SavageNathaniel Savage(2)Joseph SavotBenjamin SawyerDaniel SawyerEphraim Sawyer(3)James SawyerJeremiah SawyerJohn SawyerPeter SawyerThomas SawyerWilliam SawyerCuffy SaversJoseph SayersHenry SceesPeter SchaferMelchior ScheldoropePeter SchwoobJulian ScopeChristopher ScottGeorge ScottJames ScottJohn Scott (4)Robert ScottThomas ScottWilliam ScottDaniel ScovellDavid ScudderNutchell ScullLamb SeaburySamuel SeaburyAdam SeagerGeorge SeagerThomas Sealey (2)Robert SearesGeorge SeatonAntonio SebastaBenjamin SecraftThomas SeeleyJean Baptist SegoElias SeldonEdward SellersAnthony SelwindWilliam SemellJohn SeniorAdam SentelumeAbraham SentilierLeonard SepoloEmanuel SeerusAnthony SeralsJames SeramoJohn SerantFrancis SeratteFrancis SergeantThomas SergeantJoel SerlesSebastian SerreaWilliam ServiceJonathan SetchellOtis SevethithFrancis SeyeantSolomon ShadMatthew ShappoElisha ShareJohn SharkePhilip SharpPeter SharpePhilip SharperJohn SharpleyJoseph SharpleyJoseph ShatilleJoseph ShatillierArchibald ShaverJacob ShaverAbner ShawDaniel ShawJames ShawJeremiah ShawJoseph ShawSamuel ShawThomas Shaw (3)William ShawPatrick SheaJean SheanBrittle SheansGideon ShearmanHenry ShearmanStephen ShearmanPhilip ShebzainJohn SheffieldWilliam SheildsNicholas SheilowJeremiah ShellBenjamin SheltonJames ShepherdJohn Shepherd (4)Robert Shepherd (3)Thomas SherburnWilliam SherburneGilbert ShererJames SheridanJohn SheridanJohn ShermanSamuel Sherman (3)Andrew 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StanleyW StanleyWilliam StanleyAbijah StaplerTimothy StarSamuel StarkeBenjamin StarksWoodbury StarkweatherJohn StearnsWilliam StearnyDaniel StedhamThomas SteeleJames SteelmanJohn SteerStephen SleevmanJohn StephenBenjamin StephensJohn Stephens (2)Henry StephensWilliam Stephens (3)David StephensonJohn StephensonJohn SternsWilliam SterryDavid StevensJames StevensJoseph StevensLevert StevensWilliam StevensRobert StevensonCharles StewardJoseph StewardLewis StewardSamuel StewardDaniel StewartEdward Stewart (2)Elijah StewartHugh StewartJabez Stewart (2)John StewartSamuel StewartStephen StewartThomas StewartWilliam StewartJohn StigerJohn StikesDaniel StilesIsrael StilesJohn StilesJoshua StilesJosiah StilesAshley StillmanTheodore StillmanEnoch StillwellJohn StillwellJacob StoberHugh StockerWilliam StockerSimeon StockwellIsrael StoddardNoah StoddardThomas StoddardEdward StoddartIsrael StoddartNathaniel StoeyAbney StoneAmos StoneDonald StoneElijah StoneRichard StoneThomas Stone (5)William 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SurfFrancis SurrontoHugh SurtesJohn SurtevantJohn SussettFranco Deo SuttegrazLouis John SutterwisGeorge SuttonJohn SuttonThomas SuttonJacob SnyderRoman SuykerSimon SwaineZacharias SwaineThomas SwappleAbsolom SwateJames SwayneIsaac SweanPeter Swean (2)Enoch SweatJohn Sweeney (2)Benjamin SweetGodfrey Sweet (2)Nathaniel SweetingJoshua SwellingsDaniel SweryMartin SwiftWilliam Swire

T

Anthony TabeeJohn Taber (2)Thomas TaberSamuel TableJohn TaborPelack TaborEbenezer TabowlEbenezer TalbotSilas TalbottEbenezer TalbottWilham TalbutJames TalketonArchibald TalleyJohn TankasonCaspar TannerJohn TannerWilliam TantThomas TantisSamuel TapleyIsaac TappinAntonio TarbourTownsend TarenaEdward TargetJohn TarrantLewis TarretDomingo TauginEdward TayenderSamuel TayborAlexander TaylorAndrew Taylor (2)Gabriel TaylorHezekiah TaylorIsaac TaylorJacob Taylor (3)John Taylor (8)Captain John TaylorJoseph Taylor (3)Major TaylorNoadiah TaylorPeter TaylorRobert Taylor (3)Tobias TaylorWilliam Taylor (3)George TeatherThomas TebardJohn TellerJean TemareJohn TemplingPhilip TemverGilbert TennantThomas TennyHenry TeppettGoverne TerreneJoshua TerneweThomas TerrettWilliam TerrettJohn TerrySamuel TerryWilliam TerryJoshua TerueweZerlan TesbardJean TessierFreeborn ThandickLewis ThaxterSeren ThaxterJohn ThelstonRobert ThereySimon ThimagunThurdick Thintle---- ThomasAbner ThomasAndrew ThomasCornelius ThomasEbenezer Thomas (2)Edward ThomasGreen ThomasHerod ThomasJacques Thomas (2)James Thomas (2)Jean Supli ThomasJesse Thomas (2)John Thomas (8)Joseph ThomasThomas ThomasUrias ThomasWilliam ThomasAbraham ThompsonAndrew Thompson (3)Bartholomew ThompsonBenjamin Thompson (2)Charles ThompsonEli ThompsonGeorge ThompsonHarvey ThompsonIsaac ThompsonIsrael ThompsonJohn Thompson (8)Joseph Thompson (2)Lawrence ThompsonPatrick ThompsonRobert Thompson (3)Seth Thompson (2)William Thompson (6)John ThorianWilliam ThornerJames ThornhillChristian ThorntonChristopher ThorntonJesse ThorntonSamuel ThorntonThomas ThorntonWilliam ThorpeGideon ThrewitSedon ThurleyBenjamin ThurstonSamuel ThurstonSamuel TibbardsRichard TibbetGeorge TibbsHenry TicketHarvey TiffmanAndrew TillenJacob TillenPeter TillenderThomas TillinghastDavid TilmouseJohn TilsonNicholas TilsonGrale TimcentGeorge TimfordJeremiah TimrerAlexander TindellJames TinkerWilliam TinleyJoseph TinleysAnthony TioffeSamuel TippenJean TirveStephen TissinaMichael TitcombMoses TitcombJames TobinThomas Tobin (2)John ToddWilliam ToddThomas TolleyFrancis TollingsHenry TollmotThomas TomayJames TomkinsCharles TompedBenjamin TompkinsWilliam TompkinsThomas ThompsonHenry TooAndrew ToombsRufus ToppinChristopher TorpinFrancis TorrentMichael TosaDaniel TottonPierre TouleauRobert ToulgerSylvanus ToulgerDominic TourJean TournieFrancis TovellJoseph TowbridgeJohn TowinSamuel TownhendJames TownleySamuel TownsElwell TownsendJacob TownsendJeremiah TownsendWilliam TownsendJille TowrandJames TowserThomas ToyBenjamin TracyJesse TracyNathaniel TracyJacob TraileyWilliam TraineThomas TrampeNathaniel Trask (2)Richard TravenoChristopher TraverseSolomon TreatJames TrebyJames TredwellWilliam TreenAndrew TrefairThomas TrenchardWilliam TrendleyThomas W TrescottAndre TreasemasEdward TrevettJob TrevoJohn TrevorThomas TripRichard TrippThomas TrippJacob TrippsJohn TrittonEbenezer TrivetJabez TropJohn TrotJohn TrothWilliam TroutJohn TrowBenjamin TrowbridgeDavid TrowbridgeStephen TrowbridgeThomas TrowbridgeJoseph TruckPeter TruckWilliam TrunksJoseph TrustRobert TrustinGeorge TrustyEdward TryanMoses TryonSaphn TubbsThomas TubbyJohn TuckeFrancis TuckerJohn Tucker (4)Joseph Tucker (2)Nathan TuckerNathaniel TuckerPaul TuckerRobert Tucker (2)Seth TuckerSolomon TuckerGeorge TudenCharles TullyCasper TumnerCharles TunkardCharles TuradElias TurkJoseph TurkCaleb TurnerCaspar TurnerFrancis TurnerGeorge TurnerJames TurnerJohn Turner (3)Philip TurnerThomas Turner (4)William Turner (2)Lisby Turpin (2)Peter TurrineJohn TuttenDaniel TwiggCharles TwineJoseph TwogoodDaily TwoomeyThomas TyerillJean TyrantJohn Tyse

U

Urson UllabyThomas UmthankBenjamin UncersJoseph UnionObadiah UptonJohn UsherAndre UtinettAbirnelech Uuncer

V

Peter VaidelPierre ValemJoseph ValentineGeorge VallanceDavid ValletJohn ValpenNathan VampWilliam VanceThomas VandegristFrancis VandegristPatrick VandonJohn VandrossEleazar Van DykeJohn Van DykeNathaniel Van HornWilliam Van HornChristain VannJean Van OrseJames VanosterBarnabus VarleyPatrick VasseRichard VaughAaron VaughanAndrew VaughanChristian VaughanDavid VealeElisha VealeToser VegierBruno VelisDavid VelowWilliam VenableMoses VentisSamuel VentisJoseph VerdelaJulian VernaPeter VessecoJustin VestinePierre VetteletJohn VialJean ViaufWilliam VibertAnare VicJohn VickeryRoger VictoryDavid ViegraDaniel VieroWilliam VierseJean VigoJohn VilveeLange VinPeter VinaneFrancis VincentWilliam VinnalRobert VirnonJean VissenboufAndrew VitenaJoseph VitewellJuan Albert VixeaireJohn VoeJohn VonkettWilliam Von WonNicholas VooklyJohn VorusHenry VossGeorge Vossery

W

Christian WaddeBenjamin WadeThomas Wade (2)Christopher WadlerRichard WagstaffJoseph WainwrightJacob WainscottMatthew WainscottCharles WaistcoottEzekiel WaistcoatJabez WaistcoatJacob WaistcoatJohn WaistcoatJoseph WaiterlyJoseph WakefieldJoseph WalcotAsa WaldenGeorge WaldingJohn WaldrickEphraim WalesSamuel WalesBaldwin WalkerDaniel WalkerEzekiel WalkerGeorge WalkerHezekiah WalkerJohn WalkerJoseph WalkerMichael Walker (4)Nathaniel Walker (4)Richard WalkerSamuel Walker (2)Thomas Walker (2)William Walker (3)James WallBartholomew WallaceJohn WallaceJoseph WallaceThomas Wallace (2)Ebenezer WallarJoseph WallenCaleb WallerGeorge WalleslyAnthony WallisBenjamin WallisEzekiel WallisGeorge WallisHugh WallisJames WallisJohn WallisJonathan WallisJohn WalloreEdward WallsWilliam WallseyWilliam WalmerRobert WalpoleJohn WalseyPatrick WalshGeorge WalterJohn WalterJoseph WalterJonathan WaltersRoger WaltersHenry WaltonJohn WaltonJonathan WaltonJohn WandallEzekiel WannellPowers WansleyMichael WansteadGeorge WantonBenjamin WardCharles WardChristenton WardDavid WardJoseph WardSimon WardThomas WardWilliam WardJohn WardeBenjamin WardellJohn WardellJames WardlingElijah WaremanWilliam WarfUnit WarkyJoseph WarleyJoseph WarmesleyWilliam Taylor WarnChristopher WarneAndrew WarnerAmos WarnerBerry WarnerJohn WarnerObadiah WarnerSamuel Warner (2)Thomas WarnerRobert WarnockChristopher WarrellBenjamin WarrenJonathan WarrenObadiah WarrenRichard WarringhamWilliam WarringtonThomas WarsellLloyd WartonJoseph WartridgeTownsend WashingtonAsher Waterman (2)Azariah WatermanCalvin WatermanJohn WatermanSamuel WatermanThomas WatermanWilliam Waterman (3)Henry WatersJohn WatersThomas WatersJohn WatkinsThomas Watkins (4)Edward WatsonJoseph WatsonHenry Watson (2)John Watson (5)Nathaniel WatsonRobert WatsonThomas Watson (5)William WatsonJohn WattWilliam WattleHenry WattlesJoseph WattsSamuel WattsThomas WattsAndrew WaymoreJames WearJacob WeatherallJoseph WeatheroxThomas WeaverJacob WebbJames WebbJohn Webb (3)Jonathan WebbMichael WebbNathaniel WebbOliver WebbThomas Webb (2)William Webb (2)Joseph WebberWilliam Webber (2)George WebbyFrancis WebsterWilliam WeddenJohn WedgerDavid WedonWilliam WeekmanFrancis Weeks (2)James WeeksSeth WeeksThomas WeeksJohn WelanckEzekiel WelchGeorge WelchIsaac WelchJames Welch (5)Matthew WelchMoses WelchPhilip WelchJoseph WenthoffNellum WelkJohn WellisJohn WellmanMatthew WellmanTimothy WellmanCornelius WellsEzra WellsGideon WellsJoseph WellsPeter WellsRichard WellsWilliam WellsJoseph WelpleyDavid WelshJohn WelshPatrick WenIsaac WendellRobert WentworthJoseph WesselWilliam WesselJohn WessellsBenjamin WestEdward WestJabez West (3)Richard West (2)Samuel WesterHenry WestonSimon WestonWilliam WestonPhilip WestwardJesse WetherbyThomas WhadeJohn WharfeLloyd WhartonMichael WhaterJesse WheatonJoseph WheatonHenry WheelerMichael WheelerMorrison WheelerWilliam Wheeler (2)Michael WhelanMichael WhellanJames WhellanJesse WheltonJohn WheltonHoratio WhethaseJohn WhilaBenjamin Whipple (2)Samuel WhippleStephen WhippleChristopher WhippleyBenjamin White (2)Ephraim WhiteIchabod WhiteJames WhiteJohn White (7)Lemuel WhiteJoseph WhiteLemuel WhiteRichard WhiteRobert WhiteSampson White (2)Samuel White (2)Thomas White (2)Timothy WhiteWatson WhiteWilliam White (3)Jacob WhiteheadEnoch WhitehouseHarmon WhitemanLuther WhitemoreWilliam WhitepairCard Way WhithousenGeorge Whiting (2)James WhitingWilliam WhitingJohn WhitlockJoseph WhitlockWilliam WhitlockSamuel WhitmolkGeorge WhitneyIsaac WhitneyJames WhitneyJohn WhitneyPeter WhitneyJoseph WhittakerJacob WhittemoreFelix WibertConrad WickeryJoseph WickmanSamuel WickwardLeron WidgonJohn Wier (2)John WigglesworthIrwin WigleyMichael WiglottStephen WigmanJohn WigmoreEdward Wilcox (2)Isaac WilcoxObadiah WilcoxPardon WilcoxRobert WilderidgerCharles WilkinsAmos WilkinsonWilliam WilkinsonGeorge WillardJohn WillardJulian WillardJohn WillemanBenjamin WilleroonJames WilletConway WillhouseAmos WilliamsBarley WilliamsBenjamin WilliamsCato WilliamsCharles WilliamsDodd WilliamsEdward WilliamsEphraim WilliamsEthkin WilliamsGeorge Williams (3)Henry Williams (2)Isaac Williams (2)James Williams (4)Jeffrey WilliamsJohn Williams (9)Jonathan Williams (2)Moses WilliamsNathaniel WilliamsNicholas WilliamsPeter WilliamsRichard WilliamsSamuel Williams (2)William Williams (2)William WilliamsonJohn Foster WillianJohn WillimanDay WillinAbel WillisFrederick WillisJohn Willis (2)Jesse WillisAbraham WillistonJoseph WillmanAbraham WillorGuy WillosonBenjamin WillsheBenjamin WillsonFrancis WillsonJames Willson (2)John WillsonMartin WillsonThomas WillsonTimothy WillsonW. WillsonWilliam WillsonSamuel WilmarthLuke WilmotBenjamin Wilson (2)Edward WilsonGeorge WilsonJohn WilsonLawrence WilsonNathaniel WilsonPatrick WilsonWilliam WilsonGeorge WiltisVinrest WimondesolaGuilliam WindEdward WindgateJoseph WindsorStephen WingJacob WingmanSamuel WinnJacob WinnemoreSeth WinslowCharles WinterGeorge WinterJoseph WintersDavid WireJohn WiseThomas WithamJohn WitherleySolomon WithertonWilliam WithpaneWilliam WitlessRobert WittingtonW. WittleJohn WoesinHenry WoistHenry WolfJohn WolfSimon de WolfStephen de WolfChampion WoodCharles Wood (3)Daniel Wood (4)Edward Wood (2)George WoodJabez WoodJohn WoodJonathan WoodJoseph Wood (2)Justus WoodMatthew WoodSamuel Wood (2)William WoodHerbert Woodbury (3)Jacob WoodburyLuke WoodburyNathaniel WoodburyRobert WoodburyWilliam WoodburyThomas WoodfallDavid WoodhullHenry WoodlyNathaniel WoodmanJames WoodsonJoseph WoodwardGideon WoodwellAbel WoodworthEdward WoodyJohn WoodyMichael WoolockMichael WoomsteadJames WoopWilliam WootenJames WorthyJohn WrightRobert WrightBenjamin WyattJohn Wyatt (2)Gordon WyaxReuben WyckoffWilliam WyerHenry Wylie

X

John Xmens

Y

Joseph YalkingtonJoseph YangerJoseph YardThomas YatesFrancis YduchareAdam YeagerJacob YeasonJacob YeastonPender YedrabGeorge YoannetEdward YorkePeter YoseAlexander YoungArchibald YoungCharles YoungGeorge YoungIchabod YoungJacob YoungJohn Young (2)Marquis Young (2)Seth YoungWilliam YoungCharles YoungansLouis Younger

Z

Jean Peter ZamielPierre Zuran

APPENDIX B

THE PRISON SHIP MARTYRS OF THE REVOLUTION, AND AN UNPUBLISHED DIARY OFONE OF THEM, WILLIAM SLADE, NEW CANAAN, CONN. , LATER OF CORNWALL, VT. 

The following extremely interesting article on the prisoners andprison ships of the Revolution was written by Dr. Longworthy of theUnited States Department of agriculture for a patrioticsociety. Through his courtesy I am allowed to publish it here. I amsorry I did not receive it in time to embody it in the first part ofthis book. 

D D

Doubtless all of us are more or less familiar with the prison shipchapter of Revolutionary history, as this is one of the greatest, ifnot the greatest, tragedies of the struggle for independence. At thebeginning of the hostilities the British had in New York Harbor anumber of transports on which cattle and stores had been brought overin 1776. These vessels lay in Gravesend Bay and later were taken upthe East River and anchored in Wallabout Bay, and to their number wereadded from time to time vessels in such condition that they were of nouse except as prisons for American troops The names of many of theseinfamous ships have been preserved, the Whitby, the Good Hope, theHunter, Prince of Wales, and others, 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 soldierstaken in the land engagements in and about New York. The men werecrowded in these small vessels under conditions which passbelief. They suffered untold misery and died by hundreds from lack offood, from exposure, smallpox and other dreadful diseases, and fromthe cruelty of their captors. The average death rate on the Jerseyalone was ten per night. A conservative estimate places the totalnumber of victims at 11, 500. The dead were carried ashore and throwninto shallow graves or trenches of sand and these conditions of horrorcontinued from the beginning of the war until after peace wasdeclared. Few prisoners escaped and not many were exchanged, for theirconditions were such that commanding officers hesitated to exchangehealthy British prisoners in fine condition for the wasted, worn-out, human wrecks from the prison ships. A very large proportion of thetotal number of these prisoners perished. Of the survivors, many neverfully recovered from their sufferings. 

In 1808, it was said of the prison ship martyrs: "Dreadful, beyonddescription, was the condition of these unfortunate prisoners ofwar. Their sufferings and their sorrows were great, and unbounded wastheir fortitude. Under every privation and every anguish of life, theyfirmly encountered the terrors of death, rather than desert the causeof their country. * * *

"There was no morsel of wholesome food, nor one drop of pure water. Inthese black abodes of wretchedness and woe, the grief worn prisonerlay, without a bed to rest his weary limbs, without a pillow tosupport his aching head--the tattered garment torn from his meagerframe, and vermin preying on his flesh--his food was carrion, and hisdrink foul as the bilge water--there was no balm for his wounds, nocordial to revive his fainting spirits, no friend to comfort hisheart, nor the soft hand of affection to close his dying eyes--heapedamongst the dead, while yet the spark of life lingered in his frame, and hurried to the grave before the cold arms of death had embracedhim. * * *

"'But, ' you will ask, 'was there no relief for these victims ofmisery?' No--there was no relief--their astonishing sufferings wereconcealed from the view of the world--and it was only from the fewwitnesses of the scene who afterwards lived to tell the cruelties theyhad endured, that our country became acquainted with their deplorablecondition. The grim sentinels, faithful to their charge as the fiendsof the nether world, barred the doors against the hand of charity, andgodlike benevolence never entered there--compassion had fled fromthese mansions of despair, and pity wept over other woes. "

Numerous accounts of survivors of the prison ships have been preservedand some of them have been published. So great was popular sympathyfor them that immediately after the close of the Revolutionary War anattempt was made to gather the testimony of the survivors and toprovide a fitting memorial for those who had perished. So far as Ihave been able to learn most of the diaries and journals and othertestimony of the prison ship victims relates to the later years of thewar and particularly to the Jersey, the largest, most conspicuous, andmost horrible of all the prison ships. 

I have been so fortunate as to have access to a journal or diary keptby William Slade, of New Canaan, Conn, a young New Englander, whoearly responded to the call of his country and was captured by theBritish in 1776, shortly after his enlistment, and confined on one ofthe prison ships, the Grovner (or Grovesner). From internal evidenceit would appear that this was the first or one of the first vesselsused for the purpose and that Slade and the other prisoners with himwere the first of the American soldiers thus confined. At any rate, throughout his diary he makes no mention of other bands of prisonersin the same condition The few small pages of this little diary, whichwas always kept in the possession of his family until it was depositedin the Sheldon Museum, of Middlebury, Vt, contain a plain record ofevery-day life throughout a period of great suffering. They do notdiscuss questions of State and policy, but they do seem to me to bringclearly before the mind's eye conditions as they existed, and perhapsmore clearly than elaborate treatises to give a picture of thesufferings of soldiers and sailors who preferred to endure allprivations, hardships, and death itself rather than to renounce theirallegiance to their country and enlist under the British flag. 

The first entry in the Slade diary was made November 16, 1776, and thelast January 28, 1777, so it covers about ten weeks. 

The entries were as follows:

Fort Washington the 16th day November A. D. 1776. This day I, WilliamSlade was taken with 2, 800 more. We was allowed honours of War. Wethen marched to Harlem under guard, where we were turned into abarn. We got little rest that night being verry much crowded, as sometrouble [illegible]. * * *

Sunday 17th. Such a Sabbath I never saw. We spent it in sorrow andhunger, having no mercy showd. 

Munday 18th. We were called out while it was still dark, but was soonmarchd to New York, four deep, verry much frownd upon by all wesaw. We was called Yankey Rebbels a going to the gallows. We got toYork at 9 o'clock, were paraded, counted off and marched to the NorthChurch, where we were confind under guard. 

Tuesday 19th. Still confind without provisions till almost night, whenwe got a little mouldy bisd [biscuit] about four per man. These fourdays we spent in hunger and sorrow being derided by everry one andcalld Rebs. 

Wednesday, 20th. We was reinforsd by 300 more. We had 500 before. Thiscausd a continual noise and verry big huddle. Jest at night drawd 6 ozof pork per man. This we eat alone and raw. 

Thursday, 21st. We passd the day in sorrow haveing nothing to eat ordrink but pump water. 

Friday, 22nd. We drawd 3/4 lb of pork, 3/4 lb of bisd, one gil ofpeas, a little rice and some kittels to cook in. Wet and cold. 

Saturday, 23rd. We had camps stews plenty, it being all we had. We hadnow spent one week under confinement. Sad condition. 

Munday, 25th. We drawd 1/2 lb of pork a man, 3/4 of bisd, a littlepeas and rice, and butter now plenty but not of the right kind. 

Tuesday, 26th. We spent in cooking for wood was scarce and the churchwas verry well broke when done, but verry little to eat. 

Wednesday, 27th. Was spent in hunger. We are now dirty as hogs, lyingany and every whare. Joys gone, sorrows increase. 

Thursday, 28th. Drawd 2 lbs of bread per man, 3/4 lb of pork. A littlebutter, rice and peas. This we cooked and eat with sorrow and sadness. 

Friday, 29th. We bussd [busied] ourselves with trifels haveing butlittle to do, time spent in vain. 

Saturday, 30th. We drawd 1 lb of bread, 1/2 lb of pork, a littlebutter, rice and peas. This we eat with sorrow, discouragd. 

Sunday, 1st of Decembere 1776. About 300 men was took out and carriedon board the shipping. Sunday spent in vain. 

Munday, 2nd. Early in the morning we was calld out and stood in thecold, about one hour and then marchd to the North River and went onboard The Grovnor transport ship. Their was now 500 men on board, thismade much confusion. We had to go to bed without supper. This nightwas verry long, hunger prevaild much. Sorrow more. 

Tuesday, 3rd. The whole was made in six men messes. Our mess drawd 4lb of bisd, 4 oz of butter. Short allow. We now begin to feel likeprisoners. 

Wednesday, 4th. We drawd 4 lb of bisd. After noon drawd 2 quarts ofpeas and broth without salt, verry weak. 

Thursday, 5th. We drawd 4 lb of bisd at noon, a little meat atnight. Some pea broth, about one mouthful per man. We now feel likeprisoners. 

Friday, 6th. Of Decr. 1776. We drawd 1/2 of bisd, 4 oz of butter atnoon and 2 quarts of provinder. Called burgo, poor stuff indeed. 

Saturday, 7th. We drawd 4 lb of bisd at noon, a piece of meat andrice. This day drawd 2 bisd per man for back allowance (viz) for lastSaturday at the church. This day the ships crew weighd anchor and felldown the river below Govnors Island and saild up the East River toTurcle Bay [Turtle Bay is at the foot of 23rd street], and cast anchorfor winter months. 

Sunday, 8th. This day we were almost discouraged, but considered thatwould not do. Cast off such thoughts. We drawd our bread and eat withsadness. At noon drawd meat and peas. We spent the day reading and inmeditation, hopeing for good news. 

Munday, 9th. We drawd bisd and butter at noon, burgo [a kind ofporrige] the poorest trade ever man eat. Not so good as provinder orswill. 

Tuesday, 10th. We drawd bisd at noon, a little meat and rice. Goodnews. We hear we are to be exchangd soon. Corpl. Hawl verry bad withsmall pox. 

Wednesday, 11th. We drawd bisd. Last night Corpl Hawl died and thismorning is buryd. At noon drawd peas, I mean broth. Still in hopes. 

Thursday, 12th. We drawd bisd. This morning is the first time we seesnow. At noon drawd a little meat and pea broth. Verry thin. We almostdespair of being exchangd. 

Friday, 13th of Decr. 1776. We drawd bisd and butter. A little waterbroth. We now see nothing but the mercy of God to intercede forus. Sorrowful times, all faces look pale, discouraged, discouraged. 

Saturday, 14th. We drawd bisd, times look dark. Deaths prevail amongus, also hunger and naked. We almost conclude (that we will have) tostay all winter At noon drawd meat and rice. Cold increases. At nightsuffer with cold and hunger. Nights verry long and tiresome, weaknessprevails. 

Sunday, 15th. Drawd bisd, paleness attends all faces, the melancholystday I ever saw. At noon drawd meat and peas. Sunday gone andcomfort. As sorrowfull times as I ever saw. 

Munday, 16th of Decr. 1776. Drawd bisd and butter at noon. *Burgopoor. Sorrow increases. The tender mercys of men are cruelty. 

Tuesday, 17th. Drawd bisd. At noon meat and rice No fire. Suffer withcold and hunger. We are treated worse than cattle and hogs. 

Wednesday, 18th. Drawd bisd and butter. At noon peas. I went and got abole of peas for 4. Cole increases Hunger prevails. Sorrow comes on. 

Thursday, 19th. , Drawd bisd the ship halld in for winter quarters. Atnoon drawd meat and peas. People grow sick verry fast. Prisoners verrymuch frownd upon by all

Friday, 20th. Of Decr. 1776. Drawd bisd and butter this morn. Snow andcold. 2 persons dead on deck. Last night verry long and tiresom. Atnoon drawd burgo Prisoners hang their heads and look pale. No comfort. All sorrow. 

Saturday, 31st. Drawd bisd. Last night one of our regt got on shorebut got catched. Troubles come on comfort gone. At noon drawd meat andrice. Verry cold Soldiers and sailors verry cross. Such melancholytimes I never saw. 

Sunday, 22nd. Last night nothing but grones all night of sick anddying. Men amazeing to behold. Such hardness, sickness prevailsfast. Deaths multiply. Drawd bisd. At noon meat and peas. Weathercold. Sunday gone and no comfort. Had nothing but sorrow andsadness. All faces sad. 

Munday, 23rd. Drawd bisd and butter. This morning Sergt Kieth, JobMarch and several others broke out with the small pox. About 20 gonefrom here today that listed in the king's service. Times look verrydark. But we are in hopes of an exchange. One dies almost everyday. Cold but pleasant. Burgo for dinner. People gone bad with thepox. 

Tuesday, 24th. Last night verry long and tiresom. Bisd. At noon riceand cornmeal. About 30 sick. (They) Were carried to town. Cold butpleasant. No news. All faces gro pale and sad. 

Wednesday, 25th. Lastnight was a sorrowful night. Nothing but gronesand cries all night. Drawd bisd and butter. At noon peas. CaptBenedict, Leiut Clark and Ensn Smith come on board and brought moneyfor the prisoners. Sad times. 

Thursday, 26th. Last night was spent in dying grones and cries. I nowgro poorly. Terrible storm as ever I saw. High wind. Drawd bisd. Atnoon meat and peas. Verry cold and stormey. 

Friday, 27th. Three men of our battalion died last night. The mostmalencholyest night I ever saw. Small pox increases fast. This day Iwas blooded. Drawd bisd and butter. Stomach all gone. At noon, burgo. Basset is verry sick. Not like to live I think. 

Saturday 28th. Drawd bisd. This morning about 10 cl Josiah Bassetdied. Ensn Smith come here about noon with orders to take me ashore. We got to shore about sunset. I now feel glad. Coffee and breadand cheese. 

Sunday, 29th. Cof. And bread and cheese. This day washed my blanketand bkd my cloathes. The small pox now begins to come out. 

Munday, 30th. Nothing but bread to eat and coffee to drink. This daygot a glass of wine and drinkd. Got some gingerbread and appels toeat. 

Tuesday, 31st. Nothing good for breakt. At noon verry good. I growsomething poorly all day. No fire and tis cold. Pox comes out verryfull for the time. The folks being gone I went into another house andgot the man of the same to go and call my brother. When he came hesaid I wanted looking after. The man concluded to let me stay at hishouse. 

Wednesday 1st of Jany 1777. Pox come out almost full. About this timeJob March and Daniel Smith died with the small pox. 

Thursday, 2nd. Ensn Smith lookd about and got something to ly on andin. 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 wasverry thin and almost full. 

Friday 3d. This morning the pox looks black in my face. This dayRobert Arnold and Joshua Hurd died with the small pox. This day EnsnSmith got liberty to go home next morning, but omitted going tillSunday on account of the prisoners going home. 

Saturday, 4th. Felt more poor than common. This day the prisoners comeon shore so many as was able to travel which was not near all. 

Sunday, 5th. This morning Ensn Smith and about 150 prisoners were setout for home. The prisoners lookd verry thin and poor. 

Monday 6th. Pox turnd a good deal but I was very poorly, eat butlitte. Drink much. Something vapery. Coughd all night. 

Tuesday 7th. Nothing reml [remarkable] to write. No stomach to eat atall. Got some bacon. 

Wednesday, 8th. Feel better. This day I went out of doorstwice. Nothing remarkl to write. 

Thursday, 9th. Tryd to git some salts to take but could not. Begin toeat a little better. 

Friday, 10th. Took a portion of salts. Eat water porrage. Gain instrength fast. 

Saturday, 11th. Walk out. Went and see our Connecticutofficers. Travld round. Felt a good deal better. 

Sunday, 12th. Went and bought a pint of milk for bread. Verry gooddinner. Gain strength fast. Verry fine weather Went and see thesmall-pox men and Samll. 

Munday, 13th. Feel better. Went and see the officer. Talk about goinghome. 

Tuesday, 14th. Went to Fulton market and spent seven coppers forcakes. Eat them up. Washd my blanket. 

Wednesday 15. Cleand up all my cloathes. Left Mr. Fenixes and went tothe widow Schuylers. Board myself. 

Thursday, 16th. Went to Commesary Loring. Have incouragement of goinghome. Signd the parole. 

Friday, 17th. In expectation of going out a Sunday. Verry cold. Buymilk and make milk porrage. Verry good liveing. Had my dinner give. 

Saturday, 18t. Verry cold. Went to see Katy and got my dinner. Went toMr. Loring. Some encouragement of going hom a Munday, to have ananswer tomorrow morning. Bought suppawn (some corn?) meal and Yankey. 

Sunday, 19th. Went to Mr. Lorings. He sd we should go out in 2 or 3days. The reason of not going out now is they are a fighting atKingsbridge. Went to Phenixes and got my dinner. Almost discouragedabout going home. To have answer tomorrow. 

Munday, 20th. Nothing remarkable. Mr. Loring sd we should have ananswer tomorrow. An old story. 

Tuesday, 21st. Still follow going to Mr. Lorings. No success. He keepsa saying come tomorrow. Nothing remarkable. 

Wednesday, 22. Mr. Loring says we should have a guard tomorrow, but itfell through. The word is we shall go out in 2 or 3 days. 

Thursday, 23d. Nothing remarkl. Almost conclude to stay all winter. 

Friday, 24th. Encouragement. Mr. Loring say that we shall gotomorrow. We must parade at his quaters tomorrow by 8 oclok. 

Saturday, 25th. We paraded at Mr. Lorings by 8 or 9 oclk. Marchd offabout 10 oclk. Marchd about 6 miles and the officers got a waggon and4 or 5 of us rid about 4 miles, then travl'd about 1-1/2, then theoffr got a waggon and broght us to the lines. We were blindfolded whenwe come by Fort Independency. Come about 4/5 of a mile whare we stayall night. Lay on the floor in our cloathes but little rest. 

Sunday, 26th. We marchd by sun rise. March but 8 miles whare we gotsupper and lodging on free cost. This day gave 18 pence for breekft, 19 pence for dinner. 

Munday, 27th. Marchd 2 miles. Got breekft cost 19 pence. Travld 2 or 3miles and a waggon overtook us a going to Stamford. We now got chanceto ride. Our dinner cost 11 count lawful. About 3 oclok met with CaptHinmans company. See Judea folks and heard from home. This day come 13miles to Horse neck. Supper cost 16. Lodging free. 

Tuesday, 28th. Breekft cost 11. Rode to Stamford. Dinner 16. Travld 3miles, supr and lodg free. 

Here the diary ends when Slade was within a few miles of his home atNew Canaan, Conn. , which he reached next day. 

 * * * * *

Perhaps a few words of his future life are not without interest. Hewas one of the early settlers who went from Connecticut to Vermont andmade a home in what was then a frontier settlement. He lived and diedat Cornwall, Vt. , and was successful and respected in thecommunity. From 1801 to 1810 he was sheriff of Addison County. Of hissons, one, William, was especially conspicuous among the men of hisgeneration for his abilities and attainments. After graduation fromMiddlebury College in 1810, he studied law, was admitted to the bar, and filled many offices in his town and county. After some businessreverses he secured a position in the State Department in Washingtonin 1821. He was on the wrong side politically in General Jackson'scampaign for the presidency, being like most Vermonters a supporter ofJohn Quincy Adams. Some time after Jackson's inauguration, Slade wasremoved from his position in the State Department and this so incensedhis friends in Vermont that as soon as a vacancy arose he was electedas Representative to Congress, where he remained from 1831 to 1843. Onhis return from Washington he was elected Governor of Vermont in 1844, and in his later years was corresponding secretary and general agentof the Board of National and Popular Education, for which he did mostvaluable work. He was a distinguished speaker and an author of note, his Vermont State Papers being still a standard reference work. 

To revert to the prison ship martyrs, their suffering was so great andtheir bravery so conspicuous that immediately after the War a popularattempt was made in 1792 and 1798 to provide a proper resting placefor the bones of the victims, which were scattered in the sands aboutWallabout Bay. This effort did not progress very rapidly and it wasnot until the matter was taken up by the Tammany Society that anythingdefinite was really accomplished. Owing to the efforts of thisorganization a vault covered by a small building was erected in 1808and the bones were collected and placed in the vault in thirteen largecoffins, one for each of the thirteen colonies, the interment beingaccompanied by imposing ceremonies. In time the vault was neglected, and it was preserved only by the efforts of a survivor, BenjaminRomaine, who bought the plot of ground on which the monument stood, when it was sold for taxes, and preserved it. He died at an advancedage and was, by his own request, buried in the vault with theseRevolutionary heroes. 

Early in the last century an attempt was made to interest Congress ina project to erect a suitable monument for the prison ship martyrs butwithout success. The project has, however, never been abandoned bypatriotic and public spirited citizens and the Prison Ship Martyrs'Society of the present time is a lineal descendant in spirit andpurpose of the Tammany Club effort, which first honored theseRevolutionary heroes. The efforts of the Prison Ship Martyrs'Association have proved successful and a beautiful monument, designedby Stanford White, will soon mark the resting place of these prisonship martyrs. 

APPENDIX C

BIBLIOGRAPHY

The writer of this volume has been very much assisted in her task byMr. Frank Moore's Diary of the Revolution, a collection of extractsfrom the periodicals of the day. This valuable compilation has savedmuch time and trouble. Other books that have been useful are thefollowing. 

Adventures of Christopher Hawkins. 

Adventures of Ebenezer Fox. Published in Boston, by Charles Fox, in1848. 

History of Brooklyn by Stiles. 

Bolton's Private Soldier of the Revolution. 

Bigelow's Life of B. Franklin, vol II, pages 403 to 411. 

Account of Interment of Remains of American Prisoners. Reprint, byRev. Henry R. Stiles. 

Elias Boudinot's Journal and Historical Recollections. 

Watson's Annals. 

Thomas Dring's Recollections of the Jersey Prison Ship, re-edited byH. B. Dawson, 1865. 

Thomas Andros's Old Jersey Captive, Boston, 1833. 

Lossing's Field Book of the Revolution. 

Memoirs of Ethan Allen, written by himself. 

Journal of Dr. Elias Cornelius. 

Dunlap's New York. 

Narrative of Nathaniel Fanning. 

Narrative of Jabez Fitch. 

Valentine's Manual of New York. 

The Old Martyrs' Prison. A pamphlet. 

Jones's New York. 

Poems of Philip Freneau. 

Prison Ship Martyrs, by Rev. Henry R. Stiles. 

A Relic of the Revolution, by Rev. R. Livesey, Published byG. C. Rand, Boston, 1854. 

Memoirs of Alexander Graydon. 

Memoir of Eli Bickford. 

Martyrs of the Revolution, by George Taylor, 1820. 

Memoirs of Andrew Sherburne. 

Mrs. Ellet's Domestic History of the Revolution, pages 106-116. 

Irving's Life of Washington, vol. III, p. 19. 

Experiences of Levi Handford. C. I. Bushnell, New York, 1863. 

Onderdonk's Suffolk and King's Counties, New York. 

Philbrook's Narrative in Rhode Island Historical Society'sProceedings, 1874 and 1875. 

Harper's Monthly, vol. XXXVII. 

Historical Magazine, vol. VI, p. 147. 

Mrs. Lamb's New York. 

Jeremiah Johnson's Recollections of Brooklyn and New York. 

Life of Silas Talbot, by Tuckerman. 

Ramsey's History of the Revolution, vol. II, p. 9. 

Narrative of John Blatchford, edited by Charles I, Bushnell, 1865. 

Irish-American Hist. Miscellany, published by the author, 1906, byMr. John D. Crimmins.