AMERICAN PRISONERS
OF THE REVOLUTION
BY
DANSKE DANDRIDGE
Dedication
TO THE MEMORY OF MY
GRANDFATHER
Lieutenant Daniel
Bedinger, of
"A BOY IN
PRISON"
AS REPRESENTATIVE
OF ALL THAT WAS BRAVEST AND MOST HONORABLE IN THE
LIFE AND CHARACTER
OF THE PATRIOTS OF 1776
PREFACE
The writer of this
book has been interested for many years in the
subject of the
sufferings of the American prisoners of the
Revolution. Finding
the information she sought widely scattered, she
has, for her own
use, and for that of all students of the subject,
gathered all the
facts she could obtain within the covers of this
volume. There is
little that is original in the compilation. The
reader will find
that extensive use has been made of such narratives
as that Captain
Dring has left us. The accounts could have been given
in the compiler's
own words, but they would only, thereby, have lost
in strength. The
original narratives are all out of print, very scarce
and hard to obtain,
and the writer feels justified in reprinting them
in this collection,
for the sake of the general reader interested in
the subject, and
not able to search for himself through the mass of
original material,
some of which she has only discovered after months
of research. Her
work has mainly consisted in abridging these records,
collected from so
many different sources.
The writer desires
to express her thanks to the courteous librarians
of the Library of
Congress and of the War and Navy Departments; to
Dr. Langworthy for
permission to publish his able and interesting
paper on the
subject of the prisons in
who 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
V. WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM, THE PROVOST
MARSHAL
VI. THE CASE OF JABEZ FITCH
VII. THE HOSPITAL DOCTOR--A TORY'S ACCOUNT
OF
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
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
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
XXX. RECOLLECTIONS OF ANDREW SHERBURNE
XXXI. CAPTAIN
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
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
CONCLUSION
APPENDIX A. LIST OF 8000 MEN WHO WERE
PRISONERS ON BOARD THE OLD
APPENDIX B. THE PRISON SHIP MARTYRS OF THE
REVOLUTION, AND AN
UNPUBLISHED DIARY OF ONE OF THEM, WILLIAM
SLADE,
LATER OF
APPENDIX C. BIBLIOGRAPHY
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
It is with no
desire to excite animosity against a people whose blood
is in our veins
that we publish this volume of facts about some of the
Americans, seamen
and soldiers, who were so unfortunate as to fall
into the hands of
the enemy during the period of the Revolution. We
have concealed
nothing of the truth, but we have set nothing down in
malice, or with
undue recrimination.
It is for the sake
of the martyrs of the prisons themselves that this
work has been executed.
It is because we, as a people, ought to know
what was endured;
what wretchedness, what relentless torture, even
unto death, was
nobly borne by the men who perished by thousands in
British prisons and
prison ships of the Revolution; it is because we
are in danger of
forgetting the sacrifice they made of their fresh
young lives in the
service of their country; because the story has
never been
adequately told, that we, however unfit we may feel
ourselves for the
task, have made an effort to give the people of
flower of the land,
in the prime of their vigorous manhood, met their
terrible fate.
Too long have they
lain in the ditches where they were thrown, a
cart-full at a
time, like dead dogs, by their heartless murderers,
unknown, unwept,
unhonored, and unremembered. Who can tell us their
names? What
monument has been raised to their memories?
It is true that a
beautiful shaft has lately been erected to the
martyrs of the
to say. But it is
improbable that even the place of interment of the
hundreds of
prisoners who perished in the churches, sugar houses, and
other places used
as prisons in
Revolution, can now
be discovered. We know that they were, for the
most part, dumped
into ditches dug on the outskirts of the little
city, the
soldiers, as part
of the entrenchments, during
of
that they were, in
some cases, literally digging a grave for
themselves.
More than a hundred
and thirty years have passed since the victims of
Cunningham's
cruelty and rapacity were starved to death in churches
consecrated to the
praise and worship of a God of love. It is a tardy
recognition that we
are giving them, and one that is most imperfect,
yet it is all that
we can now do. The ditches where they were interred
have long ago been
filled up, built over, and intersected by
streets. Who of the
multitude that daily pass to and fro over the
ground that should
be sacred ever give a thought to the remains of the
brave men beneath
their feet, who perished that they might enjoy the
blessings of
liberty?
Republics are
ungrateful; they have short memories; but it is due to
the martyrs of the
Revolution that some attempt should be made to tell
to the generations
that succeed them who they were, what they did, and
why they suffered
so terribly and died so grimly, without weakening,
and without
betraying the cause of that country which was dearer to
them than their
lives.
We have, for the
most part, limited ourselves to the prisons and
prison ships in the
city and on the waters of
because such
information as we have been able to obtain concerning the
treatment of
American prisoners by the British relates, almost
entirely, to that
locality.
It is a terrible
story that we are about to narrate, and we warn the
lover of pleasant
books to lay down our volume at the first page. We
shall see
Cunningham, that burly, red-faced ruffian, the Provost
Marshal, wreaking
his vengeance upon the defenceless prisoners in his
keeping, for the
assault made upon him at the outbreak of the war,
when he and a
companion who had made themselves obnoxious to the
republicans were
mobbed and beaten in the streets of
rescued by some
friends of law and order, and locked up in one of the
jails which was
soon to be the theatre of his revenge. We shall
narrate the
sufferings of the American prisoners taken at the time of
the battle of Long
Island, and after the surrender of
which events
occurred, the first in August, the second in November of
the year 1776.
What we have been
able to glean from many sources, none of which
contradict each
other in any important point, about the prisons and
prison ships in
were imprisoned in other
places, shall fill this volume. Perhaps
others, far better
fitted for the task, will make the necessary
researches, in
order to lay before the American people a statement of
what took place in
the British prisons at
during the eight
years of the war. It is a solemn and
affecting duty
that we owe to the
dead, and it is in no light spirit that we, for our
part, begin our
portion of the task.
CHAPTER II
THE RIFLEMEN OF THE
REVOLUTION
We will first
endeavor to give the reader some idea of the men who
were imprisoned in
the summer of that
year that Congress ordered a regiment of riflemen
to be raised in
"Flying
Camp" of
prisoners at
had already proved
to his own satisfaction the value of such soldiers;
not only by his
experience with them in the French and Indian wars,
but also during the
siege of
These hardy young
riflemen were at first called by the British
"regulars,"
"a rabble in calico petticoats," as a term of
contempt. Their
uniform consisted of tow linen or homespun hunting
shirts, buckskin
breeches, leggings and moccasins. They wore round
felt hats, looped
on one side and ornamented with a buck tail. They
carried long
rifles, shot pouches, tomahawks, and scalping knives.
They soon proved
themselves of great value for their superior
marksmanship, and
the British, who began by scoffing at them, ended by
fearing and hating
them as they feared and hated no other troops.
The
many accounts of
the skill of these riflemen are interesting, and some
of them shall be
given here.
One of the first
companies that marched to the aid of
he was at
was raised partly
in
1775, a year before
the surrender of
may be taken as a
fair sample of what the riflemen of the frontiers of
our country were,
and of what they could do. We will therefore give
the words of an
eyewitness of their performances. This account is
taken from the
_Pennsylvania Journal_ of August 23rd, 1775.
"On Friday
evening last arrived at
American camp,
Captain Cresap's Company of Riflemen, consisting of one
hundred and thirty
active, brave young fellows, many of whom have been
in the late
expedition under Lord Dunmore against the Indians. They
bear in their
bodies visible marks of their prowess, and show scars
and wounds which
would do honour to Homer's Iliad. They show you, to
use the poet's
words:
"'Where the gor'd battle bled at ev'ry
vein!'
"One of these
warriors in particular shows the cicatrices of four
bullet holes
through his body.
"These men
have been bred in the woods to hardships and dangers since
their infancy. They
appear as if they were entirely unacquainted with,
and had never felt
the passion of fear. With their rifles in their
hands, they assume
a kind of omnipotence over their enemies. One
cannot much wonder
at this when we mention a fact which can be fully
attested by several
of the reputable persons who were eye-witnesses of
it. Two brothers in
the company took a piece of board five inches
broad, and seven
inches long, with a bit of white paper, the size of a
dollar, nailed in
the centre, and while one of them supported this
board
perpendicularly between his knees, the other at the distance of
upwards of sixty
yards, and without any kind of rest, shot eight
bullets through it
successively, and spared a brother's thigh!
"Another of
the company held a barrel stave perpendicularly in his
hands, with one
edge close to his side, while one of his comrades, at
the same distance,
and in the manner before mentioned, shot several
bullets through it,
without any apprehension of danger on either side.
"The
spectators appearing to be amazed at these feats, were told that
there were upwards
of fifty persons in the same company who could do
the same thing;
that there was not one who could not 'plug nineteen
bullets out of
twenty,' as they termed it, within an inch of the head
of a ten-penny
nail.
"In short, to
evince the confidence they possessed in these kind of
arms, some of them
proposed to stand with apples on their heads, while
others at the same
distance undertook to shoot them off, but the
people who saw the
other experiments declined to be witnesses of this.
"At night a
great fire was kindled around a pole planted in the Court
House Square, where
the company with the Captain at their head, all
naked to the waist
and painted like savages (except the Captain, who
was in an Indian
shirt), indulged a vast concourse of people with a
perfect exhibition
of a war-dance and all the manoeuvres of Indians;
holding council,
going to war; circumventing their enemies by defiles;
ambuscades;
attacking; scalping, etc. It is said by those who are
judges that no
representation could possibly come nearer the
original. The
Captain's expertness and agility, in particular, in
these experiments,
astonished every beholder. This morning they will
set out on their
march for
From the _Virginia
Gazette_ of July 22nd, 1775, we make the
following extract:
"A correspondent informs us that one of the
gentlemen appointed
to command a company of riflemen to be raised in
one of the frontier
counties of
from the people in
his neighborhood, to be enrolled in the service,
that a greater
number presented themselves than his instructions
permitted him to
engage, and being unwilling to give offence to any he
thought of the
following expedient: He, with a piece of chalk, drew on
a board the figure
of a nose of the common size, which he placed at
the distance of 150
yards, declaring that those who came nearest the
mark should be
enlisted. Sixty odd hit the object.--General Gage, take
care of your
nose!"
From the
_Pennsylvania Journal_, July 25th, 1775: "Captain Dowdle
with his company of
riflemen from
about one o'clock
today, and since has made proposals to General
engage to take her
with thirty men. The General thinks it best to
decline at present,
but at the same time commends the spirit of
Captain Dowdle and
his brave men, who, though they just came a very
long march, offered
to execute the plan immediately."
In the third volume
of American Archives, is an extract from a letter
to a gentleman in
1st, 1775, which
speaks of the same company of riflemen whose
wonderful
marksmanship we have already noted. The
writer says:
"Notwithstanding
the urgency of my business I have been detained here
three days by a
circumstance truly agreeable. I have had the happiness
of seeing Captain
Michael Cresap marching at the head of a formidable
company of upwards
of one hundred and thirty men from the mountains
and backwoods;
painted like Indians; armed with tomahawks and rifles;
dressed in hunting
shirts and moccasins; and, tho' some of them had
travelled hundreds
of miles from the banks of the
walk light and
easy, and not with less spirit than at the first hour
of their march.
"I was favored
by being constantly in Captain Cresap's company, and
watched the
behavior of his men and the manner in which he treated
them, for is seems
that all who go out to war under him do not only
pay the most willing
obedience to him as their commander, but in every
instance of
distress look up to him as their friend and father. A
great part of his
time was spent in listening to and relieving their
wants, without any
apparent sense of fatigue and trouble. When
complaints were
before him he determined with kindness and spirit, and
on every occasion
condescended to please without losing dignity.
"Yesterday,
July 31st, the company were supplied with a small quantity
of powder, from the
magazine, which wanted airing, and was not in good
order for rifles:
in the evening, however, they were drawn out to show
the gentlemen of
the town their dexterity in shooting. A clap board
with a mark the
size of a dollar was put up; they began to fire
offhand, and the
bystanders were surprised. Few shots were made that
were not close to,
or into, the paper. When they had shot some time in
this way, some lay
on their backs, some on their breasts or sides,
others ran twenty
or thirty steps, and, firing as they ran, appeared
to be equally
certain of the mark. With this performance the company
were more than
satisfied, when a young man took up the board in his
hand, and not by
the end, but by the side, and, holding it up, his
brother walked to
the distance, and coolly shot into the white. Laying
down his rifle he
took the board, and holding it as it was held
before, the second
brother shot as the former had done.
"By this
exhibition I was more astonished than pleased, but will you
believe me when I
tell you that one of the men took the board, and
placing it between
his legs, stood with his back to a tree, while
another drove the
centre?
"What would a
regular army of considerable strength in the forests of
preserve their
health but water from the spring; with a little parched
corn (with what
they can easily procure by hunting); and who, wrapped
in their blankets
in the dead of night, would choose the shade of a
tree for their
covering, and the earth for their bed?"
The descriptions we
have quoted apply to the rifle companies of 1775,
but they are a good
general description of the abilities of the
riflemen raised in
the succeeding years of the war, many indeed being
the same men who
first volunteered in 1775. In the possession of one
of his descendants
is a letter from one of these men written many
years after the
Revolution to the son of an old comrade in arms,
giving an account
of that comrade's experiences during a part of the
war. The letter was
written by Major Henry Bedinger of
County, Virginia,
to a son of General Samuel Finley.
Henry Bedinger was
descended from an old German family. His
grandfather had
emigrated to
persecution for his
religious beliefs. The highest rank that Bedinger
attained in the War
of the Revolution was that of captain. He was a
Knight of the Order
of the
major of the
militia of
one of his
descendants is undated, and appears to have been a rough
copy or draught of
the original, which may now be in the keeping of
some one of the
descendants of General Finley. We will give it almost
entire. Such family
letters are, we need scarcely say, of great value
to all who are
interested in historical research, supplying, as they
do, the necessary
details which fill out and amplify the bare facts of
history, giving us
a living picture of the times and events that they
describe.
PART OF A LETTER
FROM MAJOR HENRY BEDINGER TO A SON OF GENERAL SAMUEL
FINLEY
"Some time in
1774 the late Gen'l Sam'l Finley Came to Martinsburg,
to assist his
brother, Charles Morrow, in the business of a retail
store.
"Mr. Finley
continued in that employment until the spring of 1775, when
Congress called on
the State of
Volunteer Companies
of Riflemen of l00 Men each, to assist Gen'l
Stephenson of
Berkeley, & Daniel Morgan of
raise and command
those companies, they being the first Regular troops
required to be
raised in the State of
service.
"Captain Hugh
Stephenson's rendezvous was Shepherd's Town (not
Martinsburg) and
Captain Morgan's was
made by each
Captain to complete his company first, that merit might
be claimed on that
account. Volunteers presented themselves in every
direction in the
Vicinity of these Towns, none were received but young
men of Character,
and of sufficient property to Clothe themselves
completely, find
their own arms, and accoutrements, that is, an
approved Rifle,
handsome shot pouch, and powder horn, blanket,
knapsack, with such
decent clothing as should be prescribed, but which
was at first
ordered to be only a Hunting shirt and pantaloons,
fringed on every
edge and in Various ways.
"Our Company
was raised in less than a week. Morgan
had equal
success.--It was
never decided which Company was first filled--
"These
Companies being thus unexpectedly called for it was a difficult
task to obtain
rifles of the quality required & we were detained at
Father and some of
his Bosom Companions were among the first
enrolled. My
Brother, G. M. B., and myself, with many of our
Companions, soon
joined to the amount of 100--no more could be
received. The
Committee of Safety had appointed Wm Henshaw as 1st
Lieut., George
Scott 2nd, and Thomas Hite as 3rd Lieut to this
Company, this
latter however, declined accepting, and Abraham Shepherd
succeeded as 3d
Lieut--all the rest Stood on an equal footing as
_Volunteers_--We
remained at
before we could be
Completely armed, notwithstanding the utmost
exertions. In the
mean time your Father obtained from the gunsmith a
remarkable neat
light rifle, the stock inlaid and ornamented with
silver, which he
held, untill Compelled, as were all of us--to ground
our arms and
surrender to the enemy on the evening of the 16th day of
November 1776.
"In our
Company were many young men of Considerable fortune, & who
generally entered
from patriotic motives ... Our time of service being
about to expire
Captain Hugh Stephenson was commissioned a Colonel;
Moses Rawlings a
Lieutenant Colonel, and Otho Williams Major, to raise
a Rifle Regiment
for three years: four companies to be raised in
Virginia and four
in
"Henshaw and
Scott chose to return home. Abraham Shepherd was
commissioned
Captain, Sam'l Finley First Lieutenant, William Kelly
Second Lieutenant,
and myself 3rd Lieutenant. The Commissions of the
Field Officers were
dated the 8th July, 1776, & those of our Company
the 9th of the same
month. Shepherd, Finley and myself were
dispatched to
performed in about
five weeks. Col'o Stephenson also returned to
actively employed
in August, 1776, he was taken sick, and in four days
died. The command
of the Regiment devolved on Lieutenant Colonel Moses
Rawlings, a Very
worthy and brave officer.
"Our Company
being filled we Marched early in September to our
Rendezvous at
ordered up the
time ordered to
cross the River and assist in the defence of Fort
Col'o Magaw, on
from whence, after
several partial actions, he returned, and
approached us by
the way of King's bridge, with a force of from 8 to
12000 Men. Several
frigates ran up the
our intercourse
with
"On the 15th
November, 1776, the British General Pattison appeared
with a flag near
our Guards, demanding a surrender of
and the Garrison.
Col'o Magaw replied he should defend it to the last
extremity. Pattison
declared all was ready to storm the lines and
fort, we of course
prepared for the Pending contest.
"At break of
day the next morning, the enemy commenced a tremendous
Cannonade on every
side, while their troops advanced. Our Regt. tho
weak, was most
advantageously posted by Rawlings and Williams, on a
Small Ridge, about
half a mile above
from the
River. A deep
Valley divided us from the enemy, their frigates
enfiladed, &
their Cannon on the heights behind the advancing troops
played incessantly
on our party (consisting of Rawling's Regiment, say
250 men, and one
other company from
Pennsylvania Flying
Camp, also for the present commanded by Rawlings
and Williams).
"The Artillery
were endeavoring to clear the hill while their troops
crossing the Valley
were ascending it, but without much effect. A few
of our men were
killed with Cannon and Grape Shott. Not a Shott was
fired on our side
untill the Enemy had nearly gained the Sumit. Though
at least five times
our numbers our rifles brought down so many that
they gave way
several times, but by their overwhelming numbers they at
last succeeded in
possessing the summit. Here, however,
was great
carnage, each
making every effort to possess and hold so advantageous
a position. This
obstinacy continued for more than an hour, when the
enemy brought up
some field pieces, as well as reinforcements. Finding
all resistance
useless, our Regiment gradually gave way, tho' not
before Col'o
Rawlings, Major Williams, Peter Hanson, Nin Tannehill,
and myself were
wounded. Lt. Harrison [Footnote: Lieutenant Battaille
Harrison of
Regiment
Killed. Hanson and Tannehill were
mortally wounded. The
latter died the
same night in the Fort, & Hanson died in
short time after. Capt.
A. Shepherd, Lieut. Daniel Cresap and myself,
with fifty men,
were detailed the day before the action and placed in
the van to receive
the enemy as they came up the hill.
"The Regiment
was paraded in line about fifty yards in our rear, ready
to support us. Your
Father of course on that day, and in the whole of
the action
commanded Shepherd's Company, which performed its duty
admirably. About
two o'clock P. M. the Enemy obtained complete
possession of the
hill, and former battle-ground. Our troops retreated
gradually from
redoubt to redoubt, contesting every inch of ground,
still making
dreadful Havoc in the ranks of the enemy.
We laboured
too under
disadvantages, the wind blew the smoke full in our
faces. About two
o'clock A. Shepherd, being the senior
Captain, took
command of the
Regiment, [Footnote: After Rawlings and Williams were
disabled.] and by the advice of Col'o Rawlings &
Major Williams,
gradually retreated
from redoubt to redoubt, to & into the fort with
the surviving part
of the Regiment. Col'o Rawlings, Major Williams,
and Lt Hanson and
myself quitted the field together, and retreated to
the fort. I was
slightly wounded, tho my right hand was rendered
entirely useless.
Your Father continued with the regiment until all
had arrived in the
fort. It was admitted by all the surviving officers
that he had
conducted himself with great gallantry and the utmost
propriety.
"While we were
thus engaged the enemy succeeded much better in every
other quarter,
& with little comparative loss. All were driven into
the fort and the
enemy began by sundown to break ground within 100
yards of the fort.
"Finding our
situation desperate Col'o Magaw dispatched a flag to
Gen. Howe who
Commanded in person, proposing to surrender on certain
conditions, which
not being agreed to, other terms were proposed and
accepted. The
garrison, consisting of 2673 privates, & 210 officers,
marched out,
grounded arms, and were guarded to the White House that
same night, but
instead of being treated as agreed on, and allowed to
retain baggage,
clothes, and Side Arms, every valuable article was
torn away from both
officers and soldiers: every sword, pistol, every
good hat was
seized, even in presence of Brittish officers, & the
prisoners were
considered and treated as _Rebels_, to the king
and country. On the third day after our surrender we were
guarded to
New York, fourteen
miles from Fort Washington, where in the evening we
received some
barrels of raw pork and musty spoiled biscuit, being the
first Morsel of
provision we had seen for more than three days. The
officers were then
separated from the soldiers, had articles of parole
presented to us
which we signed, placed into deserted houses without
Clothing,
provisions, or fire. No officer was permitted to have a
servant, but we
acted in rotation, carried our Cole and Provisions
about half a mile
on our backs, Cooked as well as we could, and tried
to keep from
Starving.
"Our poor
Soldiers fared most wretchedly different.
They were crowded
into sugar houses
and Jails without blankets or covering; had Very
little given to
them to eat, and that little of the Very worst
quality. So that in two months and four days about
1900 of the Fort
Washington troops
had died. The survivors were sent out and receipted
for by General
Washington, and we the officers were sent to Long
Island on parole,
and billetted, two in a house, on the families
residing in the
little townships of Flatbush, New Utrecht, Newlots,
and Gravesend, who
were compelled to board and lodge us at the rate of
two dollars per
week, a small compensation indeed in the exhausted
state of that
section of country. The people were kind, being mostly
conquered Whigs,
but sometimes hard run to provide sustenance for
their own families,
with the addition, generally, of two men who must
have a share of
what could be obtained. These people could not have
furnished us but
for the advantage of the fisheries, and access at all
times to the water.
Fish, oysters, clams, Eels, and wild fowl could
always be obtained
in their season.
"We were thus
fixed on the inhabitants, but without money, or
clothing. Sometimes
a companion would receive a few hard dollars from
a friend through a
flag of truce, which was often shared by others to
purchase a pair of
shoes or a shirt.
"While in New
York Major Williams received from a friend about forty
silver dollars. He
was still down with his wound, but requested
Captain Shepherd,
your Father and myself to come to his room, and
there lent each of
us ten Dollars, which enabled each of us to
purchase a pair
shoes, a shirt, and some other small matters: this
liberality however,
gave some offence. Major Williams was a
Marylander, and to
assist a Virginian, in preference to a Marylander,
was a Crime almost
unpardonable. It however passed off, as
it so
happened there were
some refugees in New York from Maryland who had
generosity enough
to relieve the pressing wants of a few of their
former
acquaintances.
"We thus lived
in want and perfect idleness for years: tho sometimes
if Books could be
obtained we made out to read: if paper, pen, and ink
could be had we
wrote. Also to prevent becoming too feeble we
exercised our
bodies by playing fives, throwing long bullets,
wrestling, running,
jumping, and other athletick exercises, in all of
which your Father
fully participated. Being all nearly on the same
footing as to
Clothing and pocket money (that is we seldom had any of
the latter) we
lived on an equality.
"In the fall
of 1777 the Brittish Commander was informed a plan was
forming by a party
of Americans to pass over to Long Island and sweep
us off, release us
from captivity. There were then on the Island about
three hundred
American officers prisoners. We were of course ordered
off immediately,
and placed on board of two large transports in the
North River, as
prison ships, where we remained but about 18 days, but
it being Very Cold,
and we Confined between decks, the Steam and
breath of 150 men
soon gave us Coughs, then fevers, and had we not
been removed back
to our billets I believe One half would have died in
six weeks. This is
all the imprisonment your----"
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 of
the men who were
captured at Fort Washington, and of the battle
itself. Major
Bedinger was a dignified, well-to-do, country gentleman;
honored and
respected by all who knew him, and of unimpeachable
veracity.
CHAPTER III
NAMES OF SOME OF
THE PRISONERS OF 1776
As we have seen,
the officers fared well in comparison with the
wretched privates.
Paroled and allowed the freedom of the city, they
had far better
opportunities to obtain the necessities of life. "Our
poor soldiers fared
most wretchedly different," says Major Bedinger.
Before we begin,
however, to speak of the treatment they received, we
must make some
attempt to tell the reader who they were. We wish it
were possible to
give the name of every private who died, or rather
who was murdered,
in the prisons of New York at this time. But that,
we fear, is now an
impossibility. As this account is
designed as a
memorial to those
martyred privates, we have made many efforts to
obtain their names.
But if the muster rolls of the different companies
who formed the
Rifle Regiment, the Pennsylvania Flying Camp, and the
other troops
captured by the British in the summer and fall of 1776
are in existence,
we have not been able to find them.
The records of the
Revolution kept in the War Department in England
have been searched
in vain by American historians. It is said that the
Provost Marshal,
William Cunningham, destroyed his books, in order to
leave no written
record of his crimes. The names of 8,000 prisoners,
mostly seamen, who
were confined on the prison ship Jersey, alone,
have been obtained
by the Society of Old Brooklynites, from the
British Archives,
and, by the kind permission of this Society, we
re-publish them in
the Appendix to this volume.
Here and there,
also, we have obtained a name of one of the brave
young riflemen who
died in torment a hundred times worse, because so
much less swift,
than that endured on a memorable occasion in India,
when British
soldiers were placed, during a single night, into one of
their own
"Black Holes." But the names of almost all of these our
tortured countrymen
are forgotten as completely as their places of
interment are
neglected.
In the hands of the
writer, however, at this time [Footnote: This
muster roll was
lent to the writer by Henry Bedinger Davenport, Esq, a
descendant of Major
Bedinger] is the pay-roll of one of these
companies of
riflemen,--that of Captain Abraham Shepherd of
Shepherdstown,
Virginia. It is in the handwriting of Henry Bedinger,
one of the
lieutenants of the company.
We propose to take
this list, or pay roll, as a sample, and to follow,
as well as we can,
at this late day, the misfortunes of the men named
therein. For this
purpose we will first give the list of names, and
afterwards attempt
to indicate how many of the men died in
confinement, and
how many lived to be exchanged.
MUSTER ROLL
The paper in
question, falling to pieces with age, and almost
illegible in
places, is headed, "An ABSTRACT of the Pay due the
Officers and
Privates of the Company of Riflemen belonging to Captain
Abraham Shepherd,
being part of a Battalion raised by Colonel Hugh
Stevenson,
deceased, and afterwards commanded by Lieut Colonel Moses
Rawlings, in the
Continental Service from July 1st, 1776, to October
1st, 1778."
The paper gives the dates of enlistment; those who were
killed; those who
died; those who deserted; those who were discharged;
drafted; made
prisoners; "dates until when pay is charged;" "pay per
month;"
"amount in Dollars," and "amount in lawful Money, Pounds,
Shillings and
pence." From this account much information can be
gleaned concerning
the members of the company, but we will, for the
present, content
ourselves with giving the muster roll of the company.
MUSTER ROLL OF
CAPTAIN ABRAHAM SHEPHERD'S COMPANY OF RIFLEMEN RAISED
IN JULY, 1776
Captain Abraham
Shepherd.
First Lieutenant,
Samuel Finley.
Second Lieutenant,
William Kelly.
Third Lieutenant,
Henry Bedinger.
First Sergeant,
John Crawford.
Second Sergeant,
John Kerney.
Third Sergeant,
Robert Howard.
Fourth Sergeant,
Dennis Bush.
First Corporal,
John Seaburn.
Second Corporal,
Evert Hoglant.
Third Corporal,
Thomas Knox.
Fourth Corporal,
Jonathan Gibbons.
Drummer, Stephen
Vardine.
Fifer, Thomas Cook.
Armourer, James
Roberts.
Privates, William
Anderson, Jacob Wine, Richard Neal, Peter Hill,
William Waller,
Adam Sheetz, James Hamilton, George Taylor, Adam
Rider, Patrick
Vaughan, Peter Hanes, John Malcher, Peter Snyder,
Daniel Bedinger,
John Barger, William Hickman, Thomas Pollock, Bryan
Timmons, Thomas
Mitchell, Conrad Rush, David Harman, James Aitken,
William Wilson,
John Wilson, Moses McComesky, Thomas Beatty, John
Gray, Valentine Fritz,
Zechariah Bull, William Moredock, Charles
Collins, Samuel
Davis, Conrad Cabbage, John Cummins, Gabriel Stevens,
Michael Wolf, John
Lewis, William Donnelly, David Gilmore, John
Cassody, Samuel
Blount, Peter Good, George Helm, William Bogle (or
Boyle), John Nixon,
Anthony Blackhead, Christian Peninger, Charles
Jones, William
Case, Casper Myre, George Brown, Benjamin McKnight,
Anthony Larkin,
William Seaman, Charles Snowden, John Boulden, John
Blake, Nicholas
Russell, Benjamin Hughes, James Brown, James Fox,
William Hicks,
Patrick Connell, John Holmes, John McSwaine, James
Griffith, Patrick
Murphy, James Aitken.
Besides the names
of this company we can give a few privates of the
Pennsylvania Flying
Camp who are mentioned by Saffel. He adds that, as
far as is known,
all of these perished in prison, after inscribing
their names high up
upon the walls.
SOME PRIVATES OF
THE PENNSYLVANIA FLYING CAMP WHO PERISHED IN PRISON
IN 1776-7
"Charles
Fleming, John Wright, James McKinney, Ebenezer Stille, Jacob
Leinhart, Abraham
Van Gordon, Peter D'Aubert, William Carbury, John
McDowell, Wm.
McKague, Henry Parker, James Burns, Henry Yepler, Baltus
Weigh, Charles
Beason, Leonard Huber, John McCarroll, Jacob Guiger,
John May, Daniel
Adams, George McCormick, Jacob Kettle, Jacob Miller,
George Mason, James
Kearney, David Sutor, Adam Bridel, Christian Mull,
Daniel McKnight,
Cornelius Westbrook, Luke Murphy, Joseph Conklin,
Adam Dennis, Edward
Ogden, Wm. Scoonover, James Rosencrants."
The names of the
officers who were prisoners in New York after the
battle of Long
Island and the surrender of Fort Washington, can easily
be obtained. But it is not with these, at present, that we
have to
do. We have already
seen how much better was their treatment than that
accorded to the
hapless privates. It is chiefly to
commemmorate the
sufferings of the
private soldier and seaman in the British prisons
that this account
has been written.
CHAPTER IV
THE PRISONS OF NEW
YORK--JONATHAN GILLETT
We will now
endeavor to describe the principal places of confinement
used by the British
in New York during the early years of the war.
Lossing, in his
Field Book of the Revolution, thus speaks of these
dens of misery:
"At the fight around Fort Washington," he says, "only
one hundred
Americans were killed, while the British loss was one
thousand, chiefly
Hessians, But the British took a most cruel
revenge. Out of
over 2600 prisoners taken on that day, in two months &
four days 1900 were
killed in the infamous sugar houses and other
prisons in the
city.
"Association
of intense horror are linked with the records of the
prisons and prison
ships of New York. Thousands of captives
perished
miserably of
hunger, cold, infection, and in some cases, actual
poison.
"All the
prisoners taken in the battle near Brooklyn in August, 1776
and at Fort
Washington in November of the same year, were confined in
New York, nearly
4000 in all. The New Jail and the New Bridewell were
the only prisons.
The former is the present Hall of Records. Three
sugar houses, some
dissenting churches, Columbia College, and the
Hospital were all
used as prisons. The great fire in September; the
scarcity of
provisions; and the cruel conduct of the Provost Marshal
all combined to
produce intense sufferings among the men, most of whom
entered into
captivity, strong, healthy, young, able-bodied, the
flower of the
American youth of the day.
"Van
Cortlandt's Sugar House was a famous (or infamous) prison. It
stood on the
northwest corner of Trinity church-yard.
"Rhinelander's
Sugar House was on the corner of William and Duane
Streets. Perhaps
the worst of all the New York prisons was the third
Sugar House, which
occupied the space on Liberty Street where two
buildings, numbers
34 and 36, now stand.
"The North
Dutch Church on William Street contained 800 prisoners, and
there were perhaps
as many in the Middle Dutch Church. The Friends'
Meeting House on
Liberty and several other buildings erected for the
worship of a God of
love were used as prisons.
"The New Jail
was made a Provost Prison, and here officers and men of
note were confined.
At one time they were so crowded into this
building, that when
they lay down upon the floor to sleep all in the
row were obliged to
turn over at the same time at the call, 'Turn
over! Left! Right!'
"The
sufferings of these brave men were largely due to the criminal
indifference of
Loring, Sproat, Lennox, and other Commissaries of the
prisoners.
"Many of the
captives were hanged in the gloom of night without trial
and without a
semblance of justice.
"Liberty
Street Sugar House was a tall, narrow building five stories
in height, and with
dismal underground dungeons. In this gloomy abode
jail fever was ever
present. In the hot weather of July, 1777,
companies of twenty
at a time would be sent out for half an hour's
outing, in the
court yard. Inside groups of six stood for ten minutes
at a time at the
windows for a breath of air.
"There were no
seats; the filthy straw bedding was never
changed. Every day
at least a dozen corpses were dragged out and
pitched like dead
dogs into the ditches and morasses beyond the
city. Escapes,
deaths, and exchange at last thinned the
ranks. Hundreds
left names and records on the walls."
"In 1778 the
hulks of decaying ships were moored in the
Wallabout. These
prison ships were intended for sailors and seaman
taken on the ocean,
mostly the crews of privateersmen, but some
soldiers were also
sent to languish in their holds.
"The first
vessels used were transports in which cattle and other
stores had been
brought over by the British in 1776. These lay in
Gravesend Bay and
there many of the prisoners taken in battle near
Brooklyn in August,
1776, were confined, until the British took
possession of New
York, when they were moved to that city. In 1778 the
hulks of ships were
moored in the Wallabout, a sheltered bay on the
Long Island shore,
where the Navy Yard now is."
The sufferings of
the prisoners can be better understood by giving
individual
instances, and wherever this is possible it shall be
done. We will
commence by an abstract of
THE CASE OF
JONATHAN GILLETT OF WEST HARFORD
This man with seven
others was captured on Long Island on the 27th of
August, 1776,
before they could take to their boats. He was at first
confined in a
prison ship, but a Masonic brother named John Archer
procured him the
liberty of the city on parole. His rank, we believe,
was that of a
lieutenant. He was a prisoner two years, then was
allowed to go home
to die. He exhibited every symptom of poison as
well as starvation.
When he was dying
he said to his son, Jonathan Gillett, Junior,
"Should you
enlist and be taken prisoner as I was, inquire for
Mr. John Archer, a
man with whom I boarded. He will assist you."
In course of time
his son enlisted, was taken prisoner, and confined
in the Old Sugar
House on Liberty Street. Here he was nearly starved
to death. The
prisoners ate mice, rats, and insects. He one day found
in the prison yard
the dry parings of a turnip which seemed to him a
delicious banquet.
It is recorded that Jonathan Gillett, Jr., was
finally freed from
captivity through the efforts of the same
gentleman, Mr. John
Archer, who had aided his father.
In 1852 Jacob Barker
offered to present survivors who had been
confined in the Old
Sugar House with canes made from the lumber used
in its
construction. Four of these survivors
were found. Their names
were William Clark,
Samuel Moulton, Levi Hanford, and Jonathan
Gillett, Jr. The
latter's father during his confinement wrote a letter
to his friends
which has been preserved, and is as follows:
My Friends,
No doubt my
misfortunes have reached your ears. Sad
as it is, it is
true as sad. I was
made prisoner the 27th day of August past by a
people called
heshens, and by a party called Yagers the most Inhuman
of all Mortals. I
can't give Room to picture them here but thus
much--I at first
Resolved not to be taken, but by the Impertunity of
the Seven taken
with me, and being surrounded on all sides I unhapily
surendered; would
to God I never had--then I should never (have) known
there unmerciful
cruelties; they first disarmed me, then plundered me
of all I had,
watch, Buckles, money, and sum Clothing, after which
they abused me by
bruising my flesh with the butts of there
(guns). They
knocked me down; I got up and they (kept on) beating me
almost all the way
to there (camp) where I got shot of them--the next
thing was I was
allmost starved to death by them. I was keept here 8
days and then sent
on board a ship, where I continued 39 days and by
(them was treated)
much worse than when on shore--after I was set on
(shore) at New York
(I was) confined (under) a strong guard till the
20th day of
November, after which I have had my liberty to walk part
over the City
between sun and sun, notwithstanding there generous
allowance of food I
must inevitably have perished with hunger had not
sum friends in this
(city) Relieved my extreme necessity, but I cant
expect they can
always do it--what I shall do next I know not, being
naked for clothes
and void of money, and winter present, and
provisions very
skerce; fresh meat one shilling per pound, Butter
three shillings per
pound, Cheese two shillings, Turnips and potatoes
at a shilling a
half peck, milk 15 Coppers per quart, bread equally as
dear; and the
General says he cant find us fuel thro' the winter, tho'
at present we
receive sum cole. [Footnote: I have made
no changes in
this letter except
to fill up some blanks and to add a few marks of
punctuation.]
"I was after
put on board siezed violently with the disentarry--it
followed me hard
upwards of six weeks--after that a slow fever, but
now am vastly
better * * * my sincere love to you and my children. May
God keep and
preserve you at all times from sin, sickness, and death *
* * I will Endeavor
to faintly lead you into the poor cituation the
soldiers are in,
espechally those taken at Long Island where I was; in
fact these cases
are deplorable and they are Real objects of
pitty--they are
still confined and in houses where there is no
fire--poor mortals,
with little or no clothes--perishing with hunger,
offering eight
dollars in paper for one in silver to Relieve there
distressing hunger;
occasioned for want of food--there natures are
broke and gone,
some almost loose there voices and some there
hearing--they are
crouded into churches & there guarded night and
day. I cant paint
the horable appearance they make--it is shocking to
human nature to
behold them. Could I draw the curtain from before you;
there expose to
your view a lean Jawd mortal, hunger laid his skinny
hand (upon him) and
whet to keenest Edge his stomach cravings,
sorounded with
tattred garments, Rotten Rags, close beset with
unwelcome vermin.
Could I do this, I say, possable I might in some
(small) manner fix
your idea with what appearance sum hundreds of
these poor
creatures make in houses where once people attempted to
Implore God's
Blessings, &c, but I must say no more of there
calamities. God be
merciful to them--I cant afford them no Relief. If
I had money I soon
would do it, but I have none for myself.--I wrote
to you by Mr. Wells to see if some one would help me to
hard money
under my present
necessity I write no more, if I had the General would
not allow it to go
out, & if ever you write to me write very short or
else I will never
see it--what the heshens robbed me of that day
amounted to the
value of seventy two dollars at least. * * * I will
give you as near an
exact account of how many prisoners the enemy have
taken as I can.
They took on Long Island of the Huntingon Regiment 64,
and of officers 40,
of other Regiments about 60. On Moulogin Island
14, Stratton Island
(Staten) 7, at Fort Washington 2200 officers and
men. On the Jersey
side about 28 officers and men. In all 3135 and how
many killed I do
not know. Many died of there wounds. Of those that
went out with me of
sickness occasioned by hunger eight and more lie
at the point of
death.
"Roger Filer
hath lost one of his legs and part of a Thigh, it was his
left. John Moody
died here a prisoner.
"So now to
conclude my little Ragged History * * * I as you know did
ever impress on
your mind to look to God, for so still I continue to
do the same--think
less of me but more of your Creator, * * * So in
this I wish you
well and bid you farewell and subscribe myself your
nearest friend and
well wisher for Ever
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 the
description of the
sufferings of the prisoners is unexaggerated. Of
all the places of
torment provided for these poor men the churches
seem to have been
the worst, and they were probably the scenes of the
most brutal cruelty
that was inflicted upon these unfortunate beings
by the wicked and
heartless men, in whose power they found themselves.
Whether it was
because the knowledge that they were thus desecrating
buildings dedicated
to the worship of God and instruction in the
Christian duties of
mercy and charity, had a peculiarly hardening
effect upon the
jailers and guards employed by the British, or whether
it was merely
because of their unfitness for human habitation, the men
confined in these
buildings perished fast and miserably. We cannot
assert that no
prisoners shut up in the churches in New York lived to
tell the awful tale
of their sufferings, but we do assert that in all
our researches we
have never yet happened upon any record of a single
instance of a
survivor living to reach his home. All the information
we have gained on
this subject we shall lay before the reader, and
then he may form
his own opinion of the justice of these remarks.
CHAPTER V
WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM,
THE PROVOST MARSHAL
We will condense
all that we have to say of this man, whose cruelty
and wickedness are
almost inconceivable, into one chapter, and have
done with the
dreadful subject. As far as we have been able to learn,
the facts about his
life are the following.
William Cunningham
was an Irishman, born in Dublin Barracks in
1738. His father
was a trumpeter in the Blue Dragoons. When he was
sixteen he became
an assistant to the riding-master of the troop. In
1761 he was made a
sergeant of dragoons, but peace having been
proclaimed the
following year, the company to which he belonged was
disbanded. He
afterwards commenced the business of a scaw-banker,
which means that he
went about the country enticing mechanics and
rustics to ship to
America, on promise of having their fortunes made
in that country;
and then by artful practices, produced their
indentures as
servants, in consequence of which on their arrival in
America they were
sold, or at least obliged to serve a term of years
to pay for their
passage. This business, no doubt, proved a fit
apprenticeship for
the career of villainy before him.
About the year 1774
he appears to have embarked from Newry in the ship
Needham for New
York, with some indentured servants he had kidnapped
in Ireland. He is said to have treated these poor
creatures so
cruelly on the
passage that they were set free by the authorities in
New York upon their
arrival.
When Cunningham
first appeared in New York he offered himself as a
horse-breaker, and
insinuated himself into the favor of the British
officers by blatant
toryism. He soon became obnoxious to the Whigs of
that city, was
mobbed, and fled to the Asia man-of-war for
protection. From
thence he went to Boston, where General Gage
appointed him
Provost Marshal. When the British took possession of New
York he followed
them to that city, burning with desire to be revenged
upon the Whigs.
He is said to have
compassed the death of thousands of prisoners by
selling their
provisions, exchanging good for spoiled food, and even
by poisoning
them. Many also fell victims to his
murderous violence.
About two hundred
and fifty of these poor creatures were taken out of
their places of
confinement at midnight and hung, without trial,
simply to gratify
his bloodthirsty instincts. Private execution was
conducted in the
following manner. A guard was first dispatched from
the Provost, about
midnight, to the upper barracks, to order the
people on the line
of march to shut their window shutters and put out
their lights,
forbidding them at the same time to presume to look out
of their windows on
pain of death. After this the prisoners were
gagged, and
conducted to the gallows just behind the upper barracks
and hung without ceremony
there. Afterwards they were buried by his
assistant, who was
a mulatto.
This practice is
said to have been stopped by the women along the line
of march from the
Provost to the barracks. They appealed to General
Howe to prevent
further executions, as the noise made by the sufferers
praying for mercy,
and appealing to Heaven for justice was dreadful to
their ears.
It would seem from
this account that, although the wretched men were
gagged as they were
conveyed along the streets, their ferocious
murderer could not
deny himself the pleasure of hearing their shrieks
of agony at the
gallows.
Watson, in his
"Annals of New York," says that Cunningham glutted his
vengence by hanging
five or six of his prisoners every night, until
the women who lived
in the neighborhood petitioned Howe to have the
practice
discontinued.
A pamphlet called
"The Old Martyrs' Prison," says of Cunningham: "His
hatred of the
Americans found vent in torture by searing irons and
secret scourges to
those who fell under the ban of his displeasure.
The prisoners were
crowded together so closely that many fell ill from
partial
asphyxiation, and starved to death for want of the food which
he sold to enrich
himself."
They were given
muddy and impure water to drink, and that not in
sufficient
quantities to sustain life. Their
allowance was,
nominally, two
pounds of hard tack and two of pork _per week_,
and this was often
uncooked, while either the pork, or the biscuit, or
both, were usually
spoiled and most unwholesome.
Cunningham's
quarters were in the Provost Prison, and on the right
hand of the main
door of entry. On the left of the hall was the guard
room. Within the
first barricade was the apartment of his assistant,
Sergeant O'Keefe.
Two sentinels guarded the entrance day and night;
two more were
stationed at the first and second barricades, which were
grated, barred, and
chained.
"When a
prisoner was led into the hall the whole guard was paraded,
and he was
delivered over to Captain Cunningham or his deputy, and
questioned as to
his name, age, size, rank, etc., all of which was
entered in a record
book. These records appear to have been discreetly
destroyed by the
British authorities.
"At the
bristling of arms, unbolting of locks and bars, clanking of
enormous iron
chains in a vestibule dark as Erebus, the unfortunate
captive might well
sink under this infernal sight and parade of
tyrannical power,
as he crossed the threshold of that door which
probably closed on
him for life.
"The north
east chamber, turning to the left on the second floor, was
appropriated to
officers of superior rank, and was called Congress
Hall. * * * In the
day time the packs and blankets used by the
prisoners to cover
them were suspended around the walls, and every
precaution was
taken to keep the rooms clean and well ventilated.
"In this
gloomy abode were incarcerated at different periods many
American officers
and citizens of distinction, awaiting with sickening
hope the protracted
period of their liberation. Could these dumb walls
speak what scenes
of anguish might they not disclose!
"Cunningham
and his deputy were enabled to fare sumptuously by dint of
curtailing the
prisoners' rations, selling good for bad provisions,
etc., in order to
provide for the drunken orgies that usually
terminated his
dinners. Cunningham would order the rebel prisoners to
turn out and parade
for the amusement of his guests, pointing them out
with such
characterizations as 'This is the d----d rebel, Ethan
Allen. This is a
rebel judge, etc.'"
Cunningham
destroyed Nathan Hale's last letters containing messages to
his loved ones, in
order, as he said, that "the rebels should not know
that they had a man
in their army who could die with such firmness."
From Elias
Boudinot's "Journal of Events" during the Revolution we
extract the
following account of his interview with Cunningham in New
York. "In the
spring of 1777 General Washington wrote me a letter
requesting me to
accept of a Commission as Commissary General of
Prisoners in the
Army of America. I waited on him and
politely
declined the task,
urging the wants of the Prisoners and having
nothing to supply
them."
Washington,
however, urged him not to refuse, saying that if no one in
whom he could trust
would accept the office, the lot of the prisoners
would be doubly
hard. At last Boudinot consented to fill the position
as best he could,
and Washington declared that he should be supplied
with funds by the
Secret Committee of Congress. "I own," he says,
"that after I
had entered on my department, the applications of the
Prisoners were so
numerous, and their distress so urgent, that I
exerted every nerve
to obtain supplies, but in vain--Excepting £600 I
had received from
the Secret Committee in Bills of exchange, at my
first entrance into
the Office--I could not by any means get a
farthing more,
except in Continental Money, which was of no avail in
New York. I applied
to the General describing my delicate Situation
and the continual
application of the Officers, painting their extreme
distress and urging
the assurance they had received that on my
appointment I was
to be furnished with adequate means for their full
relief. The General
appeared greatly distressed and assured me that it
was out of his
power to afford me any supplies. I proposed draining
Clothing from the
public stores, but to this he objected as not having
anything like a
sufficient supply for the Army. He urged my
considering and
adopting the best means in my power to satisfy the
necessities of the
Prisoners, and he would confirm them. I told him I
knew of no means in
my Power but to take what Monies I had of my own,
and to borrow from
my friends in New York, to accomplish the desirable
purpose. He greatly encouraged me to the attempt,
promising me that
if I finally met
with any loss, he would divide it with me. On this I
began to afford
them some supplies of Provisions over and above what
the Enemy afforded
them, which was very small and very indifferent.
"The
complaints of the very cruel treatment our Prisoners met with in
the Enemy's lines
rose to such a Heighth that in the Fall of this
Year, 1777 the
General wrote to General Howe or Clinton reciting their
complaints and
proposing to send an Officer into New York to examine
into the truth of
them. This was agreed to, and a regular pass-port
returned
accordingly. The General ordered me on
this service. I
accordingly went
over on the 3rd of Feb. 1778, in my own Sloop."
The Commandant at
this time was General Robertson, by whom Boudinot
was very well
treated, and allowed, in company with a British officer,
to visit the
prisons. He continues: "Accordingly I went to the Provost
with the Officer,
where we found near thirty Officers from Colonels
downwards, in close
confinement in the Gaol in New York. After some
conversation with
the late Ethan Allen, I told him my errand, on which
he was very free in
his abuse of the British. *** We then
proceeded
upstairs to the
Room of their Confinement. I had the Officers drawn up
in a Ring and
informed them of my mission, that I was determined to
hear nothing in
secret. That I therefore hoped they would each of them
in their turn
report to me faithfully and candidly the Treatment they
severally had
received,--that my design was to obtain them the proper
redress, but if
they kept back anything from an improper fear of their
keepers, they would
have themselves only to blame for their want of
immediate redress.
That for the purpose of their deliverance the
British officer
attended. That the British General should be also well
informed of the
Facts. On this, after some little hesitation from a
dread of their
keeper, the Provost Martial, one of them began and
informed us that *
* * some had been confined in the Dungeon for a
night to await the
leisure of the General to examine them and forgot
for months; for
being Committee men, &c, &c. That they had received
the most cruel
Treatment from the Provost Martial, being locked up in
the Dungeon on the
most trifling pretences, such as asking for more
water to drink on a
hot day than usual--for sitting up a little longer
in the Evening than
orders allowed--for writing a letter to the
General making
their Complaints of ill-usage and throwing (it) out of
the Windows. That
some of them were kept ten, twelve, and fourteen
weeks in the
Dungeon on these trifling Pretenses. A Captain Vandyke
had been confined
eighteen months for being concerned in setting fire
to the City, When,
on my calling for the Provost Books, it appeared
that he had been
made Prisoner and closely confined in the Provost
four days before
the fire happened. A Major Paine had been confined
eleven months for
killing a Captain Campbell in the Engagement when he
was taken Prisoner,
when on examination it appeared that the Captain
had been killed in
another part of the Action. The charge
was that
Major Paine when
taken had no commission, though acknowledged by us as
a Major.
"Most of the
cases examined into turned out wholly false or too
trifling to be
regarded. It also appeared by the Declaration of some
of the Gentlemen
that their water would be sometimes, as the Caprice
of the Provost
Martial led him, brought up to them in the tubs they
used in their
Rooms, and when the weather was so hot that they must
drink or perish. On
hearing a number of these instances of Cruelty, I
asked who was the
Author of them--they answered the provost keeper--I
desired the Officer
to call him up that we might have him face to
face. He
accordingly came in, and on being informed of what had
passed, he was
asked if the complaints were true. He, with great
Insolence answered
that every word was true--on which the British
Officer, abusing
him very much, asked him how he dared to treat
Gentlemen in that
cruel Manner. He, insolently putting his hands to
his side, swore
that he was as absolute there as General Howe was at
the head of his
Army. I observed to the Officer that now there could
be no dispute about
Facts, as the fellow had acknowledged every word
to be true. I stated all the Facts in substance and
waited again on
General Robertson,
who hoped I was quite satisfied with the falsity of
the reports I had
heard. I then stated to him the Facts and assured
him that they
turned out worse than anything we had heard. On his
hesitating as to
the truth of this assertion--I observed to him the
propriety of having
an Officer with me, to whom I now appealed for the
truth of the Facts.
He being present confirmed them--on which the
General expressed
great dissatisfaction, and promised that the Author
of them should be
punished. I insisted that the Officers should be
discharged from his
Power on Parole on Long Island, as other Officers
were--To this after
receiving from me a copy of the Facts I had taken
down, he assented,
& all were discharged except seven, who were
detained some time
before I could obtain their release. I forgot to
mention that one
Officer, Lieutenant--was taken Prisoner and brought
in with a wound
through the leg. He was sent to the Provost to be
examined, next
night he was put into the Dungeon and remained there
ten weeks, totally
forgotten by the General, and never had his wound
dressed except as
he washed it with a little Rum and Water given to
him by the
Centinels, through the--hole out of their own
rations.
Captain--and a Captain Chatham were confined with them and
their allowance was
four pounds hard spoiled Biscuit, and two pounds
Pork per week,
which they were obliged to eat raw. While they were
thus confined for
the slightest Complaints, the Provost Martial would
come down and beat
them unmercifully with a Rattan, and Knock them
down with his fist.
After this I visited two Hospitals of our Sick
Prisoners, and the
Sugar House:--in the two first were 211 Prisoners,
and in the last
about 190. They acknowledged that for
about two
months past they
fared pretty well, being allowed two pounds of good
Beef and a
proportion of flour or Bread per week, by Mr. Lewis, My
Agent, over and
above the allowance received from the British, which
was professed to be
two thirds allowance; but before they had suffered
much from the small
allowance they had received, and and that their
Bread was very bad,
being mostly biscuit, but that the British
soldiers made the
same complaint as to the bread. From every account I
received I found
that their treatment had been greatly changed for the
better within a few
months past, except at the Provost. They all
agreed that
previous to the capture of General Burgoyne, and for some
time after, Their
treatment had been cruel beyond measure. That the
Prisoners in the
French church, amounting on an average to three or
four hundred, could
not all lay down at once, that from the 15th
October to the
first January they never received a single stick of
wood, and that for
the most part they eat their Pork Raw, when the
Pews and Door, and
Wood on Facings failed them for fuel.
"But as to my
own personal knowledge I found General Robertson very
ready to agree to
every measure for alleviating the miseries of War
and very candidly
admitted many faults committed by the inferior
Officers, and even
the mistakes of the General himself, by hearkening
to the
representations of those around him. He
showed me a letter
from General Howe
who was in Philadelphia, giving orders that we
should not be at
liberty to purchase blankets within their lines, and
containing a copy
of an order I had issued that they should not
purchase provisions
within ours, by way of retaliation, but he
represented it as
if my order was first. I stated the facts to General
Robertson, who
assured me that General Howe had been imposed upon, and
requested me to
state the facts by way of letter, when he immediately
wrote to General
Howe, urging the propriety of reversing his orders,
which afterwards he
did in a very hypocritical manner as will appear
hereafter."
It does not seem
that Cunningham was very seriously punished. It is
probable that he
was sent away from New York to Philadelphia, then in
the hands of
General Howe. Cunningham was Provost Marshal in that city
during the British
occupancy, where his cruelties were, if possible,
more astrocious
than ever before.
Dr. Albigense Waldo
was a surgeon in the American army at Valley
Forge, and he
declares in his Journal concerning the prisoners in
Philadelphia that
"the British did not knock the prisoners in the
head, or burn them
with torches, or flay them alive, or dismember them
as savages do, but
they starved them slowly in a large and prosperous
city. One of these
unhappy men, driven to the last extreme of hunger,
is said to have
gnawed his own fingers to the first joint from the
hand, before he
expired. Others ate the mortar and stone which they
chipped from the
prison walls, while some were found with bits of wood
and clay in their
mouths, which in their death agonies they had sucked
to find
nourishment." [Footnote: This account is quoted by Mr. Bolton
in a recent book
called "The Private Soldier under Washington," a
valuable
contribution to American history.]
Boudinot has
something to say about these wretched sufferers in the
City of Brotherly
Love during the months of January and February,
1778. "Various
Reports having reached us with regard to the Extreme
Sufferings of our
Prisoners in Philadelphia, I was directed by the
Commander-in-Chief
to make particular inquiry into the truth. After
some time I
obtained full Information of their Sufferings. It was
proved by some
Militia of good Character that on being taken they were
put under the care
of the General's Guard, and kept four or five days
without the least
food. That on the fifth day they were taken into the
Provost, where a
small quantity of Raw Pork was given to them. One of
their number seized
and devoured it with so much eagerness that he
dropped down dead:--that
the Provost Martial used to sell their
provisions and
leave them to starve, as he did their Allowance of
Wood. I received
information from a British Officer who confided in my
integrity, that he
happened in the Provost just at the time the
Provost Martial was
locking up the Prisoners. He had ordered them from
the Yard into the
House. Some of them being ill with the Dysentery
could scarcely
walk, and for not coming faster he would beat them with
his Rattan. One
being delayed longer than the rest. On his coming up
Cunningham gave him
a blow with one of the large Keys of the Goal
which killed him on
the Spot. The Officer, exceedingly affected with
the sight, went
next day and lodged a formal Complaint of the Murder
with General Howe's
Aid. After waiting some days, and not discovering
any measures taken
for the tryal of Cunningham, he again went to head
quarters and
requested to see the General, but was refused. He
repeated his
Complaint to his Aid, and told him if this passed
unpunished it would
become disreputable to wear a British uniform. No
notice being taken
the Officer determined to furnish me privately with
the means of proof
of the Facts, so that General Washington might
remonstrate to
General Howe on the subject:--I reported them with the
other testimony I
had collected to General Washington. He accordingly
wrote in pretty
strong Terms to General Howe and fixed a day, when if
he did not receive
a satisfactory answer, he would retaliate on the
prisoners in his
Custody. On the day he received an answer from
General Howe,
acknowledging that, on Examination he found that
Cunningham had sold
the Prisoners' rations publicly in the
Market. That he had
therefor removed him from the Charge of the
Prisoners and
appointed Mr. Henry H. Ferguson in his place. This gave
us great pleasure
as we knew Mr. Ferguson to be a Gentleman of
Character and great
Humanity, and the issue justified our
expectations. But
to our great surprise Mr. Cunningham was only
removed from the
Charge of the Prisons in Philadelphia, and sent to
that of New York.
Soon after this great complaints being made of our
Prisoners being
likely to perish for want of Cloathing and Blankets,
having been mostly
stripped and robbed of their Cloaths when taken,
application was made
for permission to purchase (with the provisions
which the British
wanted,) Blankets and cloathing, which should be
used only by the
Prisoners while in Confinement. This was
agreed to,
as we were informed
by our own Agent as well as by the British
Commissioner.
Provisions were accordingly attempted to be sent in,
when General Howe
pretending to ignorance in the business, forbid the
provisions to be
admitted, or the Blankets to be purchased. On this I
gave notice to the
British Commissary that after a certain day they
must provide food
for their prisoners south west of New Jersey, and to
be sent in from
their lines, as they should no longer be allowed to
purchase provisions
with us. The line drawn arose from our being at
liberty to purchase
in New York. This made a great noise, when General
Howe on receiving
General Robertson's letter from New York before
mentioned, urging
the propriety of the measures, issued an order that
every Person in
Philadelphia, who had a Blanket to sell or to spare
should bring them
into the King's Stores. When this was done he then
gave my Agent
permission to purchase Blankets and Cloathing, in the
City of
Philadelphia. On my Agent attempting it
he found every
Blanket in the City
purchased by the Agents for the Army, so that not
a Blanket could be
had. My Agent knowing the necessities of our
Prisoners,
immediately employed persons in every part of the city and
before General Howe
could discover his own omission, purchased up
every piece of
flannel he could meet with, and made it up into a kind
of Blanket, which
answered our purpose."
Wherever General
Howe and Cunningham were together, either in New York
or in Philadelphia,
the most atrocious cruelties were inflicted upon
the American
prisoners in their power, and yet some have endeavoured
to excuse General
Howe, on what grounds it is difficult to
determine. It has
been said that Cunningham _acted on higher
authority than any
in America_, and that Howe in vain endeavored to
mitigate the
sufferings of the prisoners. This, however, is not easy
of belief. Howe
must at least have wilfully blinded himself to the
wicked and
murderous violence of his subordinate. It was his duty to
know how the
prisoners at his mercy fared, and not to employ murderers
to destroy them by
the thousands as they were destroyed in the prisons
of New York and
Philadelphia.
Oliver Bunce, in
His "Romance of the Revolution," thus speaks of the
inhumanity of
Cunningham.
"But of all
atrocities those committed in the prisons and prison ships
of New York are the
most execrable, and indeed there is nothing in
history to excel
the barbarities there inflicted. Twelve thousand
suffered death by
their inhuman, cruel, savage, and barbarous usage on
board the filthy
and malignant prison ships--adding those who died
and were poisoned
in the infected prisons in the city a much larger
number would be
necessary to include all those who suffered by command
of British Generals
in New York. The scenes enacted in these prisons
almost exceed
belief. * * * Cunningham, the like of
whom, for
unpitying,
relentless cruelty, the world has not produced, * * *
thirsted for blood,
and took an eager delight in murder."
He remained in New
York until November, 1783, when he embarked on
board a British
man-of-war and America was no longer cursed with his
presence. He is
said to have been hung for the crime of forgery on the
tenth of August,
1791. The newspapers of the day contained the
accounts of his death,
and his dying confession. These accounts
have,
however, been
discredited by historians who have in vain sought the
English records for
the date of his death. It is said that no man of
the name of
Cunningham was hung in England in the year 1791. It is not
possible to find
any official British record of his transactions while
Provost Marshal,
and there seems a mystery about the disappearance of
his books kept
while in charge of the Provost, quite as great as the
mystery which
envelopes his death. But whether or no
he confessed his
many crimes;
whether or no he received in this world a portion of the
punishment he
deserved, it is certain that the crimes were committed,
and duly recorded
in the judgment book of God, before whose awful bar
he has been called
to account for every one of them.
CHAPTER VI
THE CASE OF JABEZ
FITCH
In presenting our
gleanings from the books, papers, letters,
pamphlets, and
other documents that have been written on the subject
of our prisoners
during the Revolution, we will endeavor to follow
some chronological
order, so that we may carry the story on month by
month and year by
year until that last day of the British possession
of New York when
Sergeant O'Keefe threw down upon the pavement of the
Provost the keys of
that prison, and made his escape on board a
British man-of-war.
One of the
prisoners taken on Long Island in the summer of 1776 was
Captain Jabez
Fitch, who was captured on the 27th of August, of that
year. While a
prisoner he contracted a scorbutic affection which
rendered miserable
thirty years of his life.
On the 29th of
August he was taken to the transport Pacific. It was a
very rainy day. The
officers, of whom there were about twenty-five,
were in one boat,
and the men "being between three and four hundred in
several other
Boats, and had their hands tied behind them. In this
Situation we were
carried by several Ships, where there appeared great
numbers of Women on
Deck, who were very liberal of their Curses and
Execrations: they
were also not a little Noisy in their Insults, but
clap'd their hands
and used other peculiar gestures in so
Extraordinary a
Manner yet they were in some Danger of leaping
overboard in this
surprising Extacy." On arriving at the Pacific, a
very large
transport ship, they were told that all officers and men
together were to be
shut down below deck. The master of the ship was a
brute named Dunn.
At sundown all were driven down the hatches, with
curses and
execrations. "Both ye lower Decks were
very full of Durt,"
and the rains had
leaked in and made a dreadful sloppy mess of the
floor, so that the
mud was half over their shoes. At the same time
they were so
crowded that only half their number could lie down at a
time.
"Some time in
the Evening a number of the Infernal Savages came down
with a lanthorn and
loaded two small pieces or Cannon with Grape shot,
which were pointed
through two Ports in such a manner as to Rake ye
deck where our
people lay, telling us at ye same time with many Curses
yt in Case of any
Disturbance or the least noise in ye Night, they
were to be
Imediately fired on ye Damned Rebels." When allowed to come
on deck "we
were insulted by those Blackguard Villians in the most
vulgar manner....We
were allowed no water that was fit for a Beast to
Drink, although
they had plenty of good Water on board, which was used
plentifully by the
Seamen, etc.
"Lieutenant
Dowdswell, with a party of Marines sent on board for our
Guard; this Mr.
Dowdswell treated us with considerable humanity, and
appeared to be a
Gentleman, nor were the Marines in General so
Insolent as the
Ships Crew....On the 31st the Commissary of Prisoners
came on Board and
took down the names, etc, of the prisoners....he
told us Colonel
Clark and many other Officers were confined at
Flatbush. On
Sunday, September 1st, we were removed to the ship Lord
Rochford, commanded
by one Lambert. This ship was much crowded. Most
of the Officers
were lodged on the quarter deck. Some nights we were
considerably wet
with rain."
The Lord Rochford
lay off New Utrecht. On the third of September the
officers that had
been confined at Flatbush were brought on board the
snow called the
Mentor. "On the fifth," says Fitch, in his written
account, of which
this is an abstract, "we were removed on board this
Snow, which was our
prison for a long time. * * * We were about 90 in
number, and ye
Field Officers had Liberty of ye Cabbin, etc. * * *
This Snow was
commanded by one Davis, a very worthless, low-lived
fellow. * * * When
we first met on board the Mentor we spent a
considerable time
in Relating to each other ye particular
Circumstances of
our first being Taken, and also ye various Treatment
with which we met
on yt occasion, nor was this a disagreeable
Entertainment in
our Melancholy Situation. * * * Many of the officers
and men were almost
Destitute of Clothes, several having neither
Britches, Stockings
or Shoes, many of them when first taken were
stripped entirely
naked. Corporal Raymond of the 17th Regiment after
being taken and
Stripped was shamefully insulted and Abused by Gen'l
Dehightler, seized
by ye Hair of his head, thrown on the ground,
etc. Some present,
who had some small degree of humanity in their
Composition, were
so good as to favor them (the prisoners) with some
old durty worn
Garments, just sufficient to cover their nakedness, and
in this Situation
(they) were made Objects of Ridicule for ye
Diversion of those
Foreign Butchers.
"One Sam
Talman (an Indian fellow belonging to the 17th Regiment) was
Stripped and set up
as a mark for them to Shoot at for Diversion or
Practice, by which
he Received two severe wounds, in the neck and arm
* * * afterwards
they destroyed him with many hundreds others by
starvation in the
prisons of New York.
"On October
first orders came to land the prisoners in New York. This
was not done until
the seventh. On Monday about four
o'clock
Mr. Loring
conducted us to a very large house on the West side of
Broadway in the
corner south of Warren Street near Bridewell, where we
were assigned a
small yard back of the house, and a Stoop in ye Front
for our Walk. We
were also Indulged with Liberty to pass and Repass to
an adjacent pump in
Ye Street."
Although paroled
the officers were closely confined in this place for
six weeks. Their
provisions, he says: "were insufficient to preserve
ye Connection
between Soul and Body, yet ye Charitable People of this
City were so good
as to afford us very considerable Relief on this
account, but it was
ye poor and those who were in low circumstances
only who were
thoughtful of our Necessities, and provisions were now
grown scarce and
Excessive dear. * * * Their unparalleled generosity
was undoubtedly ye
happy means of saving many Lives, notwithstanding
such great numbers
perished with hunger.
"Here we found
a number of Officers made prisoners since we were,
Colonel Selden,
Colonel Moulton, etc. They were first confined in Ye
City Hall. Colonel
Selden died the Fryday after we arrived.
He was
Buried in the New
Brick Churchyard, and most of the Officers were
allowed to attend
his Funeral. Dr. Thatcher of the British army
attended him, a man
of great humanity."
Captain Fitch
declares that there were two thousand wounded British
and Hessians in the
hospitals in New York after the battle of Fort
Washington, which
is a much larger estimate than we have found in
other accounts. He
says that the day of the battle was Saturday,
November 16th, and
that the prisoners were not brought to New York
until the Monday
following. They were then confined in the Bridewell,
as the City Jail
was then called, and in several churches. Some of
them were soon
afterwards sent on board a prison ship, which was
probably the
Whitby. "A number of the officers were sent to our place
of confinement;
Colonel Rawlings, Colonel Hobby, Major (Otho)
Williams, etc.
Rawlings and Williams were wounded, others were also
wounded, among them
Lieutenant Hanson (a young Gent'n from Va.) who
was Shot through ye
Shoulder with a Musq't Ball of which wound he Died
ye end of Dec'r.
"Many of ye
charitable Inhabitants were denied admittance when they
came to Visit
us."
On the twentieth of
November most of the officers were set at liberty
on parole. "Ye
first Objects of our attention were ye poor men who had
been unhappily
Captivated with us. They had been landed about ye same
time yt we were,
and confined in several Churches and other large
Buildings and
although we had often Received Intelligence from them
with ye most
Deplorable Representation of their Miserable Situation,
yet when we came to
visit them we found their sufferings vastly
superior to what we
had been able to conceive. Nor are words
sufficient to
convey an Adequate Idea of their Unparalled Calamity.
Well might ye
Prophet say, 'They yt be slain with ye sword are better
than they yt be
slain with hunger, for these pine away, etc.'
"Their
appearance in general Rather Resembled dead Corpses than living
men. Indeed great
numbers had already arrived at their long home, and
ye Remainder
appeared far advanced on ye same Journey: their
accommodations were
in all respects vastly Inferior to what a New
England Farmer
would have provided for his Cattle, and although ye
Commissary
pretended to furnish them with two thirds of ye allowance
of ye King's
Troops, yet they were cheated out of one half of
that. They were
many times entirely neglected from Day to Day, and
received no
Provision at all; they were also frequently Imposed upon
in Regard to ye
Quality as well as Quantity of their provision.
Especially in the
Necessary article of Bread of which they often
received such
Rotten and mouldy stuff, as was entirely unfit for use.
"* * * A large
number of ye most feeble were Removed down to ye Quaker
Meeting House on Queen
Street, where many hundreds of them perished in
a much more
miserable Situation than ye dumb Beasts, while those whose
particular business
it was to provide them relief, paid very little or
no attention to
their unparalleled sufferings. This house I understand
was under ye
Superintendence of one Dr. Dibuke * * * who had been at
least once
convicted of stealing (in Europe) and had fled to this
country for
protection: It was said he often made application of his
Cane among ye Sick
instead of other medicines. * * * I have often been
in danger of being
stabbed for attempting to speak to a prisoner in ye
yard. * * *
"About the
24th December a large number of prisoners were embarked on
a ship to be sent
to New England. What privates of the 17th Regiment
remained living
were Included in this number, but about one half had
already perished in
Prison. I was afterwards informed that the Winds
being unfavourable
and their accommodations and provisions on board ye
Ship being very
similar to what they had been provided with before, a
large proportion of
them perished before they could reach New England,
so that it is to be
feared very few of them lived to see their native
homes.
"Soon after
there was large numbers of the prisoners sent off by land
both to the Southward
and Eastward so yt when ye Officers were Removed
over into Long
Island in the latter part of January there remained but
very few of the
privates in that City except those released by Death
which number was
supposed to be about 1800.
"General Robertson,
so famous for Politeness and Humanity was
commanding Officer
at New York during the aforesaid treatment of the
prisoners. Governor Scheene was said to have visited the
prisoners at
the Churches and
manifested great dissatisfaction at their ill Usage,
yet I was never
able to learn that ye poor Sufferers Rec'd any
Advantage
thereby."
Captain Jabez Fitch
was a prisoner eighteen months. After the
Revolution he lived
in Vermont, where he died in 1812.
CHAPTER VII
THE HOSPITAL
DOCTOR--A TORY'S ACCOUNT OF NEW YORK IN 1777--ETHAN
ALLEN'S ACCOUNT OF
THE PRISONERS
The doctor spoken
of by Jabez Fitch as Dr. Dibuke is
perhaps the
notorious character
described by Mr. Elias Boudinot in the Journal
from which we have
already quoted. On page 35 of this book he gives us
the following:
"AN ACCOUNT OF
THE FRENCHMAN WHO POISONED. AMERICAN
PRISONERS IN NEW
YORK, AND WAS
REWARDED FOR SO DOING BY GENERAL, HOWE
"When the
British Army took possession of New York they found a
Frenchman in Goal,
under Condemnation for Burglery and Robbery. He was
liberated. He was a
very loos, ignorant man. Had been a Servant. This
fellow was set over
our Prisoners in the Hospital, as a Surgeon,
though he knew not
the least principle of the Art. Dr. McHenry, a
Physician of note
in the American Army, and then a Prisoner, finding
the extreme
ignorance of this man, and that he was really murdering
our people,
remonstrated to the British Director of the Hospital, and
refused visiting
our sick Prisoners if this man was not dismissed. A
British Officer,
convinced that he had killed several of our People,
lodged a complaint
against him, when he was ordered to be tryed by a
Court Martial, but
the morning before the Court were to set, this
Officer was ordered
off to St Johns, and the Criminal was discharged
for want of
Evidence. During this man having the Charge of our
Prisoners in the
Hospital, two of our Men deserted from the Hospital
and came into our
Army when they were ordered to me for Examination.
They Joined in this
story. That they were sick in the Hospital under
the care of the
above Frenchman. That he came and
examined them, and
gave to each of
them a dose of Physick to be taken immediately.
A
Young Woman, their
Nurse, made them some private signs not to take the
Physick
immediately. After the Doctor was gone,
she told them she
suspected the
Powder was poison. That she had several times heard this
Frenchman say that
he would have ten Rebels dead in such a Room and
five dead in such a
Room the next morning, and it always so
happened. They
asked her what they should do: She told them their only
chance was to get
off, sick as they were, that she would help them out
and they must shift
for themselves. They accordingly got off safe, and
brought the Physick
with them. This was given to a Surgeon's Mate, who
afterwards reported
that he gave it to a Dog, and that he died in a
very short time. I
afterwards saw an account in a London Paper of this
same Frenchman
being taken up in England for some Crime and condemned
to dye. At his
Execution he acknowledged the fact of his having
murdered a great
number of Rebels in the Hospitals at New York by
poyson. That on his
reporting to General Howe the number of the
Prisoners dead, he
raised his pay. He further confessed that he
poisoned the wells
used by the American Flying Camp, which caused such
an uncommon
Mortality among them in the year 1776."
Jabez Fitch seems
to have been mistaken in thinking that General
Robertson instead
of Lord Howe was commanding in New York at this
time.
We will now give
the account written by a Tory gentleman, who lived in
New York during a
part of the Revolution, of Loring, the Commissary of
Prisons, appointed
by General Howe in 1776. Judge Thomas Jones was a
noted loyalist of
the day. Finding it inconvenient to remain in this
country after the
war, he removed to England, where he died in 1792,
having first
completed his "History of New York during the
Revolution."
He gives a much larger number of prisoners in that city
in the year 1776
than do any of the other authorities. We will,
however, give his
statements just as they were written.
"Upon the
close of the campaign in 1776 there were not less than
10,000 prisoners
(Sailors included) within the British lines in New
York. A Commissary
of Prisoners was therefore appointed, and one
Joshua Loring, a
Bostonian, was commissioned to the office with a
guinea a day, and
rations of all kinds for himself and family. In this
appointment there
was reciprocity. Loring had a handsome wife.
The
General, Sir
William Howe, was fond of her. Joshua
made no
objections. He
fingered the cash: the General enjoyed Madam. Everybody
supposing the next
campaign (should the rebels ever risk another)
would put a final
period to the rebellion. Loring was
determined to
make the most of
his commission and by appropriating to his own use
nearly two thirds
of the rations allowed the prisoners, he actually
starved to death
about three hundred of the poor wretches before an
exchange took
place, and which was not until February, 1777, and
hundreds that were
alive at the time were so emaciated and enfeebled
for the want of
provisions, that numbers died on the road on their way
home, and many
lived but a few days after reaching their
habitations. The
war continuing, the Commissaryship of Prisoners grew
so lucrative that
in 1778 the Admiral thought proper to appoint one
for naval
prisoners. Upon the French War a Commissary was appointed
for France. When Spain joined France another was
appointed for
Spain. When Great
Britain made war upon Holland a Commissary was
appointed for Dutch
prisoners. Each had his guinea a day, and rations
for himself and
family. Besides, the prisoners were half starved, as
the Commissaries
filched their provisions, and disposed of them for
their own use. It is a known fact, also, that whenever an
exchange
was to take place
the preference was given to those who had, or could
procure, the most
money to present to the Commissaries who conducted
the exchange, by
which means large sums of money were unjustly
extorted and
demanded from the prisoners at every exchange, to the
scandal and
disgrace of Britons. We had five Commissaries of
Prisoners, when one
could have done all the business. Each Commissary
had a Deputy, a
Clerk, a Messenger in full pay, with rations of every
kind."
As Judge Jones was
an ardent Tory we would scarcely imagine that he
would exaggerate in
describing the corruptions of the commissaries. He
greatly deplored
the cruelties with which he taxed General Howe and
other officials,
and declared that these enormities prevented all
hopes of
reconciliation with Great Britain.
We will next quote
from the "Life of Ethan Allen," written by himself,
as he describes the
condition of the prisoners in the churches in New
York, more
graphically than any of his contemporaries.
ETHAN ALLEN'S
ACCOUNT OF THE AMERICAN PRISONERS
"Our number,
about thirty-four, were all locked up in one common large
room, without
regard to rank, education, or any other accomplishment,
where we continued
from the setting to the rising sun, and as sundry
of them were
infected with the gaol and other distempers, the
furniture of this
spacious room consisted principally of excrement
tubs. We petitioned
for a removal of the sick into hospitals, but were
denied. We
remonstrated against the ungenerous usage of being confined
with the privates,
as being contrary to the laws and customs of
nations, and
particularly ungrateful in them, in consequence of the
gentleman-like
usage which the British imprisoned officers met with in
America; and thus
we wearied ourselves petitioning and remonstrating,
but o no purpose at
all; for General Massey, who commanded at Halifax,
was as inflexible
as the d---l himself. * * * Among the prisoners were
five who had a
legal claim to a parole, James Lovel, Esq; Captain
Francis Proctor; a
Mr. Rowland, Master of a Continental armed vessel;
a Mr. Taylor, his
mate, and myself. * * * The prisoners were ordered
to go on board of a
man-of-war, which was bound for New York, but two
of them were not
able to go on board and were left in Halifax: one
died and the other
recovered. This was about the 12th of October,
1776. * * * We
arrived before New York and cast an anchor the latter
part of October,
where we remained several days, and where Captain
Smith informed me
that he had recommended me to Admiral Howe, and
General Sir Wm.
Howe, as a gentleman of honor and veracity, and
desired that I
might be treated as such. Captain Burk was then ordered
on board a prison
ship in the harbor. I took my leave of Captain
Smith, and with the
other prisoners was sent on board a transport
ship. * * * Some of
the last days of November the prisoners were
landed at New York,
and I was admitted to parole with the other
officers, viz:
Proctor, Rowland, and Taylor. The privates were put
into the filthy
churches in New York, with the distressed prisoners
that were taken at
Fort Washington, and the second night Sergeant
Roger Moore, who
was bold and enterprising, found means to make his
escape, with every
of the remaining prisoners that were taken with me,
except three who
were soon after exchanged: so that out of thirty-one
prisoners who went
with me the round exhibited in these sheets, two
only died with the
enemy, and three only were exchanged, one of whom
died after he came
within our lines. All the rest at
different times
made their escape
from the enemy.
"I now found
myself on parole, and restricted to the limits of the
city of New York,
where I soon projected means to live in some measure
agreeable to my
rank, though I was destitute of cash. My constitution
was almost worn out
by such a long and barbarous captivity. * * * In
consequence of a
regular diet and exercise my blood recruited, and my
nerves in a great
measure recovered their former tone * * * in the
course of six
months.
"* * * Those
who had the misfortune to fall into the enemy's hands at
Fort Washington * *
* were reserved from immediate death to famish and
die with hunger: in
fine the word rebel' was thought by the enemy
sufficient to
sanctify whatever cruelties they were pleased to
inflict, death
itself not excepted. * * *
"The prisoners
who were brought to New York were crowded into
churches, and
environed with slavish Hessian guards, a people of a
strange language *
* * and at other times by merciless Britons, whose
mode of
communicating ideas being unintelligible in this country
served only to
tantalize and insult the helpless and perishing; but
above all the
hellish delight and triumph of the tories over them, as
they were dying by
hundreds. This was too much for me to bear as a
spectator; for I
saw the tories exulting over the dead bodies of their
countrymen. I have gone into the churches and seen sundry
of the
prisoners in the
agonies of death, in consequence of very hunger; and
others speechless
and near death, biting pieces of chips; others
pleading, for God's
sake for something to eat, and at the same time
shivering with the
cold. Hollow groans saluted my ears, and despair
seemed to be
imprinted on every of their countenances. The filth in
these churches, in
consequence of the fluxes, was almost beyond
description. I have carefully sought to direct my steps so
as to
avoid it, but could
not. They would beg for God's sake for one copper
or morsel of bread.
I have seen in one of the churches seven dead, at
the same time,
lying among the excrements of their bodies.
"It was a
common practice with the enemy to convey the dead from these
filthy places in
carts, to be slightly buried, and I have seen whole
gangs of tories
making derision, and exulting over the dead, saying
'There goes another
load of d----d rebels!' I have observed
the
British soldiers to
be full of their blackguard jokes and vaunting on
those occasions,
but they seemed to me to be less malignant than the
Tories.
"The provision
dealt out to the prisoners was by no means sufficient
for the support of
life. It was deficient in Quantity, and much more
so in Quality. The prisoners often presented me with a
sample of
their bread, which
I certify was damaged to such a degree that it was
loathsome and unfit
to be eaten, and I am bold to aver it as my
opinion, that it
had been condemned and was of the very worst sort. I
have seen and been
fed upon damaged bread, in the course of my
captivity, and
observed the quality of such bread as has been
condemned by the
enemy, among which was very little so effectually
spoiled as what was
dealt out to these prisoners. Their allowance of
meat, as they told
me, was quite trifling and of the basest sort. I
never saw any of
it, but was informed, bad as it was, it was swallowed
almost as quick as
they got hold of it. I saw some of them sucking
bones after they
were speechless; others who could yet speak and had
the use of their
reason, urged me in the strongest and most pathetic
manner, to use my
interest in their behalf: 'For you plainly see,'
said they,'that we
are devoted to death and destruction,' and after I
had examined more
particularly into their truly deplorable condition
and had become more
fully apprized of the essential facts, I was
persuaded that it
was a premeditated and systematized plan of the
British council to
destroy the youths of our land, with a view thereby
to deter the country
and make it submit to their despotism: but as I
could not do them
any material service, and by any public attempt for
that purpose I
might endanger myself by frequenting places the most
nauseous and
contagious that could be conceived of, I refrained going
into the churches,
but frequently conversed with such of the prisoners
as were admitted to
come out into the yard, and found that the
systematical usage
still continued. The guard would often drive me
away with their
fixed bayonets. A Hessian one day followed me five or
six rods, but by
making use of my legs, I got rid of the lubber.
"Sometimes I
could obtain a little conversation notwithstanding their
severities.
"I was in one
of the yards and it was rumoured among those in the
church, and sundry
of the prisoners came with their usual complaints
to me, and among
the rest a large-boned, tall young man, as he told me
from Pennsylvania,
who was reduced to a mere skeleton. He said he was
glad to see me
before he died, which he had expected to have done last
night, but was a
little revived. He further informed me that he and
his brother had
been urged to enlist into the British army, but had
both resolved to
die first; that his brother had died last night, in
consequence of that
resolve, and that he expected shortly to follow
him; but I made the
other prisoners stand a little off and told him
with a low voice to
enlist; he then asked whether it was right in the
sight of God? I
assured him that it was, and that duty to himself
obliged him to
deceive the British by enlisting and deserting the
first opportunity;
upon which he answered with transport that he would
enlist. I charged him not to mention my name as his
adviser, lest it
should get air and
I should be closely confined, in consequence of it.
"The integrity
of these suffering prisoners is incredible.
Many
hundreds of them, I
am confident, submitted to death rather than
enlist in the
British service, which, I am informed, they most
generally were
pressed to do. I was astonished at the resolution of
the two brothers,
particularly; it seems that they could not be
stimulated to such
exertions of heroism from ambition, as they were
but obscure
soldiers. Strong indeed must the internal principle of
virtue be which
supported them to brave death, and one of them went
through the
operation, as did many hundreds others * * * These things
will have their
proper effect upon the generous and brave.
"The officers
on parole were most of them zealous, if possible, to
afford the
miserable soldiers relief, and often consulted with one
another on the
subject, but to no effect, being destitute of the means
of subsistence
which they needed, nor could they project any measure
which they thought
would alter their fate, or so much as be a mean of
getting them out of
those filthy places to the privilege of fresh
air. Some projected
that all the officers should go in procession to
General Howe and
plead the cause of the perishing soldiers, but this
proposal was
negatived for the following reasons: viz: because that
General Howe must
needs be well acquainted and have a thorough
knowledge of the
state and condition of the prisoners in every of
their wretched
apartments, and that much more particular and exact
than any officer on
parole could be supposed to have, as the General
had a return of the
circumstances of the prisoners by his own officers
every morning, of
the number who were alive, as also of the number who
died every
twenty-four hours: and consequently the bill of mortality,
as collected from
the daily returns, lay before him with all the
material situations
and circumstances of the prisoners, and provided
the officers should
go in procession to General Howe, according to the
projection, it would
give him the greatest affront, and that he would
either retort upon
them, that it was no part of their parole to
instruct him in his
conduct to prisoners; that they were mutinying
against his
authority, and, by affronting him, had forfeited their
parole, or that,
more probably, instead of saying one word to them,
would order them
all into as wretched a confinement as the soldiers
whom they sought to
relieve, for at that time the British, from the
General to the
private centinel, were in full confidence, nor did they
so much as
hesitate, but that they should conquer the country.
"Thus the
consultation of the officers was confounded and broken to
pieces, in
consequence of the dread which at the time lay on their
minds of offending
General Howe; for they conceived so murderous a
tryant would not be
too good to destroy even the officers on the least
pretence of an
affront, as they were equally in his power with the
soldiers; and as
General Howe perfectly understood the condition of
the private
soldiers, it was argued that it was exactly such as he and
his council had
devised, and as he meant to destroy them it would be
to no purpose for
them to try to dissuade him from it, as they were
helpless and liable
to the same fate, on giving the least
affront. Indeed
anxious apprehensions disturbed them in their then
circumstances.
"Meantime
mortality raged to such an intolerable degree among the
prisoners that the
very school boys in the street knew the mental
design of it in
some measure; at least they knew that they were
starved to death.
Some poor women contributed to their necessity till
their children were
almost starved; and all persons of common
understanding knew
that they were devoted to the cruellest and worst
of deaths.
"It was also
proposed by some to make a written representation of the
condition of the
soldiery, and the officers to sign it, and that it
should be couched
in such terms, as though they were apprehensive that
the General was
imposed upon by his officers, in their daily returns
to him of the state
and condition of the prisoners, and that therefor
the officers moved
with compassion, were constrained to communicate to
him the facts
relative to them, nothing doubting but that they would
meet with a speedy
redress; but this proposal was most generally
negatived also, and
for much the same reason offered in the other
case; for it was
conjectured that General Howe's indignation would be
moved against such
officers as should attempt to whip him over his
officers' backs;
that he would discern that he himself was really
struck at, and not
the officers who made the daily returns; and
therefor self
preservation deterred the officers from either
petitioning or
remonstrating to General Howe, either verbally or in
writing; as also
they considered that no valuable purpose to the
distressed would be
obtained.
"I made
several rough drafts on the subject, one of which I exhibited
to the Colonels
Magaw, Miles, and Atlee; and they said that they would
consider the matter.
Soon after I called on them, and some of the
gentlemen informed
me that they had written to the General on the
subject, and I
concluded that the gentlemen thought it best that they
should write
without me, as there was such spirited aversion
subsisting between
the British and me."
Ethan Allen goes on
to say: "Our little army was retreating in New
Jersey and our
young men murdered by hundreds in New York." He then
speaks of
Washington's success at Trenton in the following terms:
"This success
had a mighty effect on General Howe and his council, and
roused them to a
sense of their own weakness. * * * Their obduracy and
death-designing
malevolence in some measure abated or was
suspended. The
prisoners, who were condemned to the most wretched and
cruellest of
deaths, and who survived to this period, _though most
of them died
before,_ were immediately ordered to be sent within
General
Washington's lines, for an exchange, and in consequence of it
were taken out of
their filthy and poisonous places of confinement,
and sent out of New
York to their friends in haste. Several of them
fell dead in the
streets of New York, as they attempted to walk to the
vessels in the
harbor, for their intended embarkation. What number
lived to reach the
lines I cannot ascertain, but, from concurrent
representations
which I have since received from numbers of people who
lived in and
adjacent to such parts of the country, where they were
received from the
enemy, _I apprehend that most of them died in
consequence of the
vile usage of the enemy._ Some who were eye
witnesses of the
scene of mortality, more especially in that part
which continued
after the exchange took place, are of opinion that it
was partly in
consequence of a slow poison; but this I refer to the
doctors who
attended them, who are certainly the best judges.
"Upon the best
calculation I have been able to make from personal
knowledge, and the
many evidences I have collected in support of the
facts, I learn
that, of the prisoners taken on Long Island and Fort
Washington and some
few others, at different times and places, about
two thousand
perished with hunger, cold, and sickness, occasioned by
the filth of their
prisons, at New York; and a number more on their
passage to the
continental lines; most of the residue who reached
their friends
having received their death wound, could not be restored
by the assistance
of their physicians and friends: but like their
brother prisoners,
fell a sacrifice to the relentless and scientific
barbarity of the
British. I took as much pains as the circumstances
would admit of to
inform myself not only of matters of fact, but
likewise of the
very design and aims of General Howe and his council,
the latter of which
I predicated on the former, and submit it to the
candid
public."
CHAPTER VIII
THE ACCOUNT OF
ALEXANDER GRAYDON
One of the most
interesting and best memoirs of revolutionary times is
that written by
Alexander Graydon, and as he was taken prisoner at
Fort Washington,
and closely connected with the events in New York
during the winter
of 1776-7, we will quote here his account of his
captivity.
He describes the
building of Fort Washington in July of 1776 by the
men of Magaw's and
Hand's regiments. General Putnam was the
engineer. It was
poorly built for defence, and not adapted for a
siege.
Graydon was a
captain in Colonel Shee's Regiment, but, for some reason
or other, Shee went
home just before the battle was fought, and his
troops were
commanded by Cadwallader in his stead.
Graydon puts the
number of privates
taken prisoner at 2706 and the officers at about
210. Bedinger, as
we have already seen, states that there were 2673
privates and 210
officers. He was a man of painstaking accuracy, and
it is quite
probable that his account is the most trustworthy. As one
of the privates was
Bedinger's own young brother, a boy of fifteen,
whom he undoubtedly
visited as often as possible, while Graydon only
went once to the
prisons, perhaps Bedinger had the best opportunities
for computing the
number of captives.
Graydon says that
Colonel Rawlings was, some time late in the morning
of the 16th of
November, attacked by the Hessians, when he fought with
great gallantry and
effect as they were climbing the heights, until
the arms of the
riflemen became useless from the foulness they
contracted from the
frequent repetition of their fire.
Graydon, himself,
becoming separated from his own men, mistook a party
of Highlanders for
them, and was obliged to surrender to them. He was
put under charge of
a Scotch sergeant, who said to him and his
companion, Forrest:
"Young men, ye should never fight against your
King!"
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 although
by this time there
was none of that appearance of ferocity in the
guard which would
induce much fear that they would execute his
command, I yet
thought it well enough to parry it, and turning to him,
I took off my hat,
saying, 'Sir, I put myself under your protection!'
"No man was
ever more effectually rebuked. His manner was instantly
softened; he met my
salutation with an inclination of his body, and
after a civil
question or two, as if to make amends for his sanguinary
mandate, rode off
towards the fort, to which he had enquired the way.
"Though I had
delivered up my arms I had not adverted to a cartouche
box which I wore
about my waist, and which, having once belonged to
his British
Majesty, presented in front the gilded letters, G. R.
Exasperated at this
trophy on the body of a rebel, one of the soldiers
seized the belt
with great violence, and in the act to unbuckle it,
had nearly jerked
me off my legs. To appease the offended loyalty of
the honest Scot I
submissively took it off and handed it to him, being
conscious that I
had no longer any right to it. At this moment a
Hessian came up. He
was not a private, neither did he look like a
regular
officer. He was some retainer, however,
to the German troops,
and as much of a
brute as any one I have ever seen in human form. The
wretch came near
enough to elbow us, and, half unsheathing his sword,
with a countenance
that bespoke a most vehement desire to use it
against us, he
grunted out in broken English, 'Eh! you rebel! you damn
rebel!'
"I had by this
time entire confidence in our Scotchmen, and therefore
regarded the
caitiff with the same indifference that I should have
viewed a caged wild
beast, though with much greater abhorrence. * * *
"We were
marched to an old stable, where we found about forty or fifty
prisoners already
collected, principally officers, of whom I only
particularly
recollect Lieutenant Brodhead of our battalion.
We
remained on the
outside of the building; and, for nearly an hour,
sustained a series
of the most intolerable abuse. This was chiefly
from the officers
of the light infantry, for the most part young and
insolent puppies,
whose worthlessness was apparently their
recommendation to a
service, which placed them in the post of danger,
and in the way of
becoming food for powder, their most appropriate
destination next to
that of the gallows. The term 'rebel,' with the
epithet 'damned'
before it, was the mildest we received. We were
twenty times told,
sometimes with a taunting affectation of concern,
that we should
every man of us be hanged. * * * The indignity of being
ordered about by
such contemptible whipsters, for a moment unmanned
me, and I was
obliged to apply my handkerchief to my eyes. This was
the first time in
my life that I had been the victim of brutal,
cowardly
oppression, and I was unequal to the shock; but my elasticity
of mind was soon
restored, and I viewed it with the indignant contempt
it deserved.
"For the
greater convenience of guarding us we were now removed to the
barn of Colonel
Morris's house, which had been the head-quarters of
our army. * * * It was a good, new building. * * *
There were from a
hundred and fifty
to two hundred, comprising a motley group, to be
sure. Men and
officers of all descriptions, regulars and militia,
troops continental
and state, and some in hunting shirts, the mortal
aversion of a red
coat. Some of the officers had been plundered of
their hats, and
some of their coats, and upon the new society into
which we were
introduced, with whom a showy exterior was all in all,
we were certainly
not calculated to make a very favorable
impression. I found
Captain Tudor here, of our regiment, who, if I
mistake not, had
lost his hat. * * * It was announced, by an huzza,
that the fort had
surrendered.
"The officer
who commanded the guard in whose custody we now were, was
an ill-looking,
low-bred fellow of this dashing corps of light
infantry. * * * As I stood as near as possible to the
door for the
sake of air, the
enclosure in which we were being extremely crowded
and unpleasant, I
was particularly exposed to his brutality; and
repelling with some
severity one of his attacks, for I was becoming
desperate and
careless of safety, the ruffian exclaimed, 'Not a word,
sir, or damme, I'll
give you my butt!' at the same time clubbing his
fusee, and drawing
it back as if to give the blow, I fully expected
it, but he
contented himself with the threat. I
observed to him that
I was in his power,
and disposed to submit to it, though not proof
against every
provocation. * * * There were several British officers
present, when a
Serjeant-Major came to take an account of us, and
particularly a list
of such of us as were officers. This Serjeant,
though not uncivil,
had all that animated, degagè impudence of air,
which belongs to a
self complacent, non-commissioned officer of the
most arrogant army
in the world; and with his pen in his hand and his
paper on his knee
applied to each of us in his turn for his rank. * *
* The sentinels
were withdrawn to the distance of about ten or twelve
feet, and we were
told that such of us as were officers might walk
before the door.
This was a great relief to us."
The officers were
lodged in the barn loft quite comfortably. A young
Lieutenant Beckwith
had them in charge, and was a humane gentleman. In
the evening he told
them he would send them, if possible, a bottle of
wine, but at any
rate, a bottle of spirits. He kept his word as to the
spirits, which was
all the supper the party in the loft had. "In the
morning a soldier
brought me Mr. B.'s compliments, and an invitation
to come down and
breakfast with him. * * * I thankfully accepted his
invitation, and
took with me Forrest and Tudor. * * * He gave us a
dish of excellent
coffee, with plenty of very good toast, which was
the only morsel we
had eaten for the last twenty-four hours. * * * Our
fellow sufferers
got nothing until next morning. * * *
"All the glory
that was going (in the battle of Fort Washington) had,
in my idea of what
had passed, been engrossed by the regiment of
Rawlings, which had
been actively engaged, killed a number of the
enemy, and lost
many themselves.
"About two
o'clock Mr. B. sent me a plate amply supplied with corned
beef, cabbage, and
the leg and wing of a turkey, with bread in
proportion."
Though Mr. Graydon
calls this gentleman Mr. Becket, it
seems that
there was no young
officer of that name at the battle of Fort
Washington. Becket
appears to be a mistake for Lieutenant Onslow
Beckwith. The
prisoners were now marched within six miles of New York
and Graydon's party
of officers were well quartered in a
house.
"Here," he continues, "for the first time we drew provisions
for the famished
soldiers. * * * Previously to entering the city we
were drawn up for
about an hour on the high ground near the East
River. Here, the
officers being separated from the men, we were
conducted into a
church, where we signed a parole."
At this place a
non-commissioned British officer, who had seen him at
the ordinary kept
by his widowed mother in Philadelphia, when he was a
boy, insisted on
giving him a dollar.
"Quarters were
assigned for us in the upper part of the town, in what
was called 'The
holy ground.' * * * I ventured to take
board at four
dollars per week
with a Mrs. Carroll. * * * Colonel Magaw, Major West,
and others, boarded
with me."
He was fortunate in
obtaining his trunk and mattress.
Speaking of the
prisons in which
the privates were confined he says: "I once and once
only ventured to
penetrate into these abodes of human misery and
despair. But to
what purpose repeat my visit, when I had neither
relief to
administer nor comfort to bestow? * * * I endeavoured to
comfort them with
the hope of exchange, but humanity forbade me to
counsel them to
rush on sure destruction. * * * Our own condition was
a paradise to
theirs. * * * Thousands of my unhappy
countrymen were
consigned to slow,
consuming tortures, equally fatal and potent to
destruction."
The American
officers on parole in New York prepared a memorial to Sir
William Howe on the
condition of these wretched sufferers, and it was
signed by Colonels
Magaw, Miles, and Atlee. This is, no doubt, the
paper of which
Colonel Ethan Allen writes. Captain Graydon was
commissioned to
deliver this document to Sir William Howe. He says:
"The
representation which had been submitted to General Howe in behalf
of the suffering
prisoners was more successful than had been expected.
* * * The
propositions had been considered by Sir William Howe, and he
was disposed to
accede to them. These were that the men should be sent
within our lines,
where they should be receipted for, and an equal
number of the
prisoners in our hands returned in exchange. * * * Our
men, no longer
soldiers (their terms for which they had enlisted
having expired) and
too debilitated for service, gave a claim to sound
men, immediately
fit to take the field, and there was moreover great
danger that if they
remained in New York the disease with which they
were infected might
be spread throughout the city. At any rate hope
was admitted into
the mansions of despair, the prison doors were
thrown open, and
the soldiers who were yet alive and capable of being
moved were conveyed
to our nearest posts, under the care of our
regimental
surgeons, to them a fortunate circumstance, since it
enabled them to
exchange the land of bondage for that of liberty. * *
* Immediately after
the release of our men a new location was assigned
to us. On the 22nd
of January, 1777, we were removed to Long Island."
CHAPTER IX
A FOUL PAGE OF
ENGLISH HISTORY
We will not follow
Mr. Graydon now to Long Island. It was then late in
January, 1777. The
survivors of the American prisoners were, many of
them, exchanged for
healthy British soldiers. The crime had been
committed, one of
the blackest which stains the annals of English
history. By the most accurate computation at least two
thousand
helpless American
prisoners had been slowly starved, frozen, or
poisoned to death
in the churches and other prisons in New York.
No excuse for this
monstrous crime can be found, even by those who are
anxiously in search
of an adequate one.
We have endeavored
to give some faint idea of the horrors of that
hopeless captivity.
As we have already said scarcely any one who
endured
imprisonment for any length of time in the churches lived to
tell the tale. One
of these churches was standing not many years ago,
and the marks of
bayonet thrusts might plainly be seen upon its
pillars. What
terrible deeds were enacted there we can only
conjecture. We _know_ that two thousand, healthy, high-spirited
young men, many of
them sons of gentlemen, and all patriotic, brave,
and long enduring,
even unto death, were foully murdered in these
places of torment,
compared to which ordinary captivity is described
by one who endured
it as paradise. We know, we say, that these young
men perished
awfully, rather than enlist in the British army; that
posterity has
almost forgotten them, and that their dreadful
sufferings ought to
be remembered wherever American history is read.
We have already
said that it is impossible now to obtain the names of
all who suffered
death at the hands of their inhuman jailors during
the fall and winter
of 1776-7. But we have taken Captain Abraham
Shepherd's company
of riflemen as a sample of the prisoners, and are
able, thanks to the
pay roll now in our care, to indicate the fate of
each man upon the
list.
It is a mistake to
say that no prisoners deserted to the
British. After the
account we have quoted from Ethan Allen's book we
feel sure that no one
can find the heart to blame the poor starving
creatures who
endeavored to preserve their remains of life in this
manner.
Henry Bedinger
gives the names of seven men of this company who
deserted. They are
Thomas Knox, a corporal; William Anderson, Richard
Neal, George
Taylor, Moses McComesky, Anthony Blackhead and Anthony
Larkin. Thomas Knox
did not join the British forces until the 17th of
January, 1777;
William Anderson on the 20th of January, 1777.
Richard
Neal left the
American army on the tenth of August, 1776. He,
therefore, was not
with the regiment at Fort Washington. George Taylor
deserted on the 9th
of July, 1776, which was nine days after he
enlisted. Moses
McComesky did not desert until the 14th of June,
1777. Anthony
Blackhead deserted November 15th, 1776, the day before
the battle was
fought; Anthony Larkin, September 15th, 1776. We cannot
tell what became of
any of these men. Those who died of the prisoners
are no less than
fifty-two in this one company of seventy-nine
privates and
non-commissioned officers. This may and probably does
include a few who
lived to be exchanged. The date of death of each man
is given, but not
the place in which he died.
A very singular
fact about this record is that no less than
_seventeen_ of the
prisoners of this company died on the same
day, which was the
fifteenth of February, 1777. Why this was so we
cannot tell. We can only leave the cause of their death to
the
imagination of our
readers. Whether they were poisoned by wholesale;
whether they were
murdered in attempting to escape; whether the night
being
extraordinarily severe, they froze to death; whether they were
butchered by
British bayonets, we are totally unable to tell. The
record gives their
names and the date of death and says that all
seventeen were
prisoners. That is all.
The names of these
men are Jacob Wine, William Waller, Peter Snyder,
Conrad Rush, David
Harmon, William Moredock, William Wilson, James
Wilson, Thomas
Beatty, Samuel Davis, John Cassody, Peter Good, John
Nixon, Christopher
Peninger, Benjamin McKnight, John McSwaine, James
Griffith, and
Patrick Murphy.
Two or three others
are mentioned as dying the day after. Is it
possible that these
men were on board one of the prison ships which
was set on
fire? If so we have been able to
discover no account of
such a disaster on
that date.
Many of the papers
of Major Henry Bedinger were destroyed. It is
possible that he
may have left some clue to the fate of these men, but
if so it is
probably not now in existence. But among the letters and
memoranda written
by him which have been submitted to us for
inspection, is a
list, written on a scrap of paper, of the men that he
recruited for
Captain Shepherd's Company in the summer of 1776. This
paper gives the
names of the men and the date on which each one died
in prison. It is as
follows:
LIST OF MEN RAISED
BY LIEUTENANT HENRY BEDINGER, AND THAT HE BROUGHT
FROM NEW TOWN,
BERKELEY COUNTY, VA., AUGUST FIRST, 1776
Dennis Bush, Fourth
Sergeant. (He was taken prisoner at Fort
Washington, but
lived to be exchanged, and was paid up to October 1st,
1778, at the end of
the term for which the company enlisted.)
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 near
Darkesville. Isaac
Price was an orphan, living with James' Campbell's
father. Samuel
Davis came from near Charlestown.
Henry Bedinger.
This is all, but it
is eloquent with what it does not say. All but two
of this list of
seventeen young, vigorous riflemen died in prison or
from the effects of
confinement. One, alone had sufficient vitality to
endure until the
8th of July, 1777. Perhaps he was more to be pitied
than his comrades.
We now begin to
understand how it happened that, out of more than
2,600 privates
taken prisoner at Fort Washington, 1,900 were dead in
the space of two
months and four days, when the exchange of some of
the survivors took
place. Surely this is a lasting disgrace to one of
the greatest
nations of the world. If, as seems undoubtedly true, more
men perished in
prison than on the battle fields of the Revolution, it
is difficult to see
why so little is made of this fact in the many
histories of that
struggle that have been written. We find that the
accounts of British
prisons are usually dismissed in a few words,
sometimes in an
appendix, or a casual note. But history was ever
written thus. Great
victories are elaborately described; and all the
pomp and
circumstance of war is set down for our pleasure and
instruction. But it is due to the grand solemn muse of
history, who
carries the torch
of truth, that the other side, the horrors of war,
should be as
faithfully delineated. Wars will not cease until the
lessons of their
cruelty, their barbarity, and the dark trail of
suffering they
leave behind them are deeply impressed upon the
mind. It is our
painful task to go over the picture, putting in the
shadows as we see
them, however gloomy may be the effect.
CHAPTER X
A BOY IN PRISON
In the winter of
1761 a boy was born in a German settlement near
Lancaster,
Pennsylvania, the third son of Henry Bedinger and his wife,
whose maiden name
was Magdalene von Schlegel. These Germans, whom we
have already
mentioned, moved, in 1762, to the neighborhood of the
little hamlet, then
called Mecklenburg, Berkeley County,
Virginia.
Afterwards the name of the town was changed to
Shepherdstown, in
honor of its chief proprietor, Thomas Shepherd.
Daniel was a boy of
fourteen when the first company of riflemen was
raised at
Shepherdstown by the gallant young officer, Captain Hugh
Stephenson, in
1775.
The rendezvous of
this company was the spring on his mother's farm,
then called
Bedinger's Spring, where the clear water gushes out of a
great rock at the
foot of an ancient oak. The son of Daniel Bedinger,
Hon. Henry
Bedinger, Minister to the Court of Denmark in 1853, left a
short account of
his father's early history, which we will quote in
this place. He says: "When the war of the Revolution
commenced my
father's eldest
brother Henry was about twenty-two years of age. His
next brother,
Michael, about nineteen, and he himself only in his
fifteenth year.
Upon the first news of hostilities his two brothers
joined a volunteer
company under the command of Captain Hugh
Stephenson, and set
off immediately to join the army at Cambridge.
"My father
himself was extremely anxious to accompany them, but they
and his mother, who
was a widow, forbade his doing so, telling him he
was entirely too
young, and that he must stay at home and take care of
his younger
brothers and sisters. And he was thus very reluctantly
compelled to remain
at home. At the expiration of about twelve months
his brothers
returned home, and when the time for their second
departure had
arrived, the wonderful tales they had narrated of their
life in camp had
wrought so upon my father's youthful and ardent
imagination that he
besought them and his mother with tears in his
eyes, to suffer him
to accompany them. But they, regarding his youth,
would not give
their consent, but took their departure without him.
"However, the
second night after their arrival in camp (which was at
Bergen, New
Jersey), they were astonished by the arrival of my father,
he having run off
from home and followed them all the way on foot, and
now appeared before
them, haggard and weary and half starved by the
lengths of his
march. * * * My father was taken
prisoner at the
battle of Fort
Washington, and the privations and cruel treatment
which he then
underwent gave a blow to his constitution from which he
never recovered.
After the close of the Revolution he returned home
with a constitution
much shattered. * * *"
Many years after
the Revolution Dr. Draper, who died in Madison,
Wisconsin, and left
his valuable manuscripts to the Historical Society
of that State,
interviewed an old veteran of the war, in Kentucky.
This venerable
relic of the Revolution was Major George Michael
Bedinger, a brother
of Daniel. Dr. Draper took down from his
lips a
short account of
the battle of Fort Washington, where his two brothers
were captured.
Major G. M. Bedinger was not in service at that time,
but must have
received the account from one or both of his
brothers. Dr. Draper says: "In the action of Fort
Washington Henry
Bedinger heard a
Hessian captain, having been repulsed, speak to his
riflemen in his own
language, telling them to follow his example and
reserve their fire
until they were close. Bedinger, recognizing his
mother tongue,
watched the approach of the Hessian officer, and each
levelled his
unerring rifle at the other. Both fired, Bedinger was
wounded in the
finger: the ball passing, cut off a lock of his
hair. The Hessian
was shot through the head, and instantly
expired. Captain
Bedinger's young brother Daniel, in his company, then
but a little past
fifteen, shot twenty-seven rounds, and was often
heard to say, after
discharging his piece, 'There! take that, you
----!'
"His youthful
intrepidity, and gallant conduct, so particularly
attracted the
attention of the officers, that, though taken prisoner,
he was promoted to
an ensigncy, his commission dating back six months
that he might take
precedence of the other ensigns of his company.
"These two
brothers remained prisoners, the youngest but a few months,
and the elder
nearly four years, both on prison ships, with the most
cruel treatment, in
filthy holds, impure atmosphere, and stinted
allowance of food.
With such treatment it was no wonder that but eight
hundred out of the
2800 prisoners taken at Fort Washington survived.
"During the
captivity of his brother Henry, Major Bedinger would by
labor, loans at
different times, and the property sold which he
inherited from his
father, procure money to convey to the British
Commissary of
Prisoners to pay his brother Henry's board. Then he was
released from the
filthy prison ship, limited on his parole of honor
to certain limits
at Flatbush, and decently provisioned and better
treated, and it is
pleasant to add that the British officers having
charge of these
matters were faithful in the proper application of
funds thus placed
in their hands. Major Bedinger made many trips on
this labor of
fraternal affection. This, with his attention to his
mother and family,
kept him from regularly serving in the army. But
he, never the less,
would make short tours of service."
So far we have
quoted Dr. Draper's recollections of an interview with
George Michael
Bedinger in his extreme old age. We have already given
Henry Bedinger's
own acount of his captivity. What we know of Daniel's
far severer
treatment we will give in our own words.
It was four days
before the privates taken at Fort Washington had one
morsel to eat. They
were then given a little mouldy biscuit and raw
pork. They were
marched to New York, and Daniel was lodged with many
others, perhaps
with the whole company, in the Old Sugar House on
Liberty Street.
Here he very nearly died of exposure and
starvation. There
was no glass in the windows and scarce one of the
prisoners was
properly clothed. When it snowed they were drifted over
as they slept.
One day Daniel
discovered in some vats a deposit of sugar which he was
glad to scrape to
sustain life. A gentleman, confined with
him in the
Old Sugar House,
used to tell his descendants that the most terrible
fight he ever
engaged in was a struggle with a comrade in prison for
the carcass of a
decayed rat.
It is possible that
Henry Bedinger, an officer on parole in New York,
may have found some
means of communicating with his young brother, and
even of supplying
him, sometimes, with food. Daniel, however, was soon
put on board a
prison ship, probably the Whitby, in New York harbor.
Before the first
exchange was effected the poor boy had yielded to
despair, and had
turned his face to the wall, to die. How bitterly he
must have regretted
the home he had been so ready to leave a few
months before! And
now the iron had eaten into his soul, and he longed
for death, as the
only means of release from his terrible sufferings.
Daniel's father was
born in Alsace, and he himself had been brought up
in a family where
German was the familiar language of the
household. It seems
that, in some way, probably by using his mother
tongue, he had
touched the heart of one of the Hessian guards. When
the officers in
charge went among the prisoners, selecting those who
were to be
exchanged, they twice passed the poor boy as too far gone
to be moved. But
he, with a sudden revival of hope and the desire to
live, begged and
entreated the Hessian so pitifully not to leave him
behind, that that
young man, who is said to have been an officer,
declared that he
would be responsible for him, had him lifted and laid
down in the bottom
of a boat, as he was too feeble to sit or stand. In
this condition he
accompanied the other prisoners to a church in New
York where the
exchange was effected. One or more of
the American
surgeons
accompanied the prisoners. In some way Daniel was conveyed to
Philadelphia, where
he completely collapsed, and was taken to one of
the military
hospitals.
Here, about the
first of January, 1777, his devoted brother, George
Michael Bedinger,
found him. Major Bedinger's son, Dr. B.
F.
Bedinger, wrote an
account of the meeting of these two brothers for
Mrs. H. B. Lee, one
of Daniel's daughters, which tells the rest of the
story. He said:
"My father
went to the hospital in search of his brother, but did not
recognize him. On
inquiry if there were any (that had been) prisoners
there a feeble
voice responded, from a little pile of straw and rags
in a corner, 'Yes,
Michael, there is one.'
"Overcome by
his feelings my father knelt by the side of the poor
emaciated boy, and
took him in his arms. He then bore him to a house
where he could
procure some comforts in the way of food and
clothing. After
this he got an armchair, two pillows, and some leather
straps.
"He placed his
suffering and beloved charge in the chair, supported
him by the pillows,
swung him by the leather straps to his back, and
carried him some
miles into the country, where he found a friendly
asylum for him in
the house of some good Quakers. There he nursed him,
and by the aid of
the kind owners, who were farmers, gave him
nourishing food,
until he partially recovered strength.
"But your
father was very impatient to get home, and wished to proceed
before he was well
able to walk, and did so leave, while my father
walked by his side,
with his arm around him to support him. Thus
they
travelled from the
neighborhood of Philadelphia, to Shepherdstown
(Virginia) of
course by short stages, when my father restored him safe
to his mother and
family.
"Your father
related some of the incidents of that trip to me when I
last saw him at
Bedford (his home) in the spring of 1817, not more
than one year
before his death. Our uncle, Henry Bedinger, was also a
prisoner for a long
time, and although he suffered greatly his
suffering was not
to be compared to your father's.
"After your
father recovered his health he again entered the service
and continued in it
to the end of the war. He was made Lieutenant, and
I have heard my
father speak of many battles he was in, but I have
forgotten the names
and places." [Footnote: Letter of
Dr
B. F. Bedinger to
Mrs H. B. Lee, written in 1871.]
After Daniel
Bedinger returned home he had a relapse, and lay, for a
long time, at the
point of death. He, however, recovered,
and
re-entered the
service, where the first duty assigned him was that of
acting as one of
the guards over the prisoners near Winchester.
He
afterwards fought
with Morgan in the southern campaigns, was in the
battle of the
Cowpens, and several other engagements, serving until
the army was
disbanded. He was a Knight of the Order of the
Cincinnati. His
grandson, the Rev. Henry Bedinger, has
the original
parchment signed by
General Washington, in his possession. This
grandson is now the
chaplain of the Virginia branch of the Society.
In 1791 Daniel
Bedinger married Miss Sarah Rutherford, a daughter of
Hon. Robert
Rutherford, of Flowing Springs, in what is now Jefferson
County, West
Virginia, but was then part of Berkeley County, Virginia.
Lieutenant Bedinger
lived in Norfolk for many years. He was first
engaged in the
Custom House in that city. In 1802 he accepted the
position of navy
agent of the Gosport Navy Yard. He died in 1818 at
his home near
Shepherdstown, of a malady which troubled him ever after
his confinement as
a prisoner in New York. He hated the British with a
bitter hatred,
which is not to be wondered at. He was an ardent
supporter of Thomas
Jefferson, and wrote much for the periodicals of
the time. Withal he
was a scholarly gentleman, and a warm and generous
friend. He built a
beautiful residence on the site of his mother's old
home near
Sheperdstown; where, when he died in 1818, he left a large
family of children,
and a wide circle of friends and admirers.
CHAPTER XI
THE NEWSPAPERS OF
THE REVOLUTION
What we have been
able to glean from the periodicals of the day about
the state of the
prisons in New York during the years 1776 and 1777 we
will condense into
one short chapter.
We will also give
an abstract taken from a note book written by
General Jeremiah
Johnson, who as a boy, lived near Wallabout Bay
during the
Revolution and who thus describes one of the first prison
ships used by the
British at New York. He says: "The subject of the
naval prisoners,
and of the British prisons-ships, stationed at the
Wallabout during
the Revolution, is one which cannot be passed by in
silence. From printed journals, published in New York
at the close of
the war, it
appeared that 11,500 American prisoners had died on board
the prison ships.
Although this number is very great, yet if the
numbers who
perished had been less, the Commissary of Naval Prisoners,
David Sproat, Esq.,
and his Deputy, had it in their power, by an
official Return, to
give the true number taken, exchanged, escaped,
and _dead_. Such a Return
has never appeared in the United
States.
"David Sproat
returned to America after the war, and resided in
Philadelphia, where
he died. [Footnote: This is, we believe,
a
mistake. Another
account says he died at Kirkcudbright, Scotland, in
1792.] The Commissary could not have been ignorant
of the statement
published here on
this interesting subject. We may,
therefore, infer
that about that
number, 11,500, perished in the Prison ships.
"A large
transport called the Whitby, was the first prison ship
anchored in the
Wallabout. She was moored near Remsen's Mill about the
20th of October,
1776, and was then crowded with prisoners.
Many
landsmen were
prisoners on board this vessel: she was said to be the
most sickly of all
the prison ships. Bad provisions, bad water, and
scanted rations
were dealt to the prisoners. No medical men attended
the sick. Disease
reigned unrelieved, and hundreds died from
pestilence, or were
starved on board this floating Prison. I saw the
sand beach, between
a ravine in the hill and Mr. Remsen's dock, become
filled with graves
in the course of two months: and before the first
of May, 1777, the
ravine alluded to was itself occupied in the same
way.
"In the month
of May, 1777, two large ships were anchored in the
Wallabout, when the
prisoners were transferred from the Whitby to
them. These vessels
were also very sickly from the causes before
stated. Although many prisoners were sent on board of
them, and none
exchanged, death
made room for all.
"On a Sunday
afternoon about the middle of October, 1777, one of these
prison ships was
burnt. The prisoners, except a few, who,
it was
said, were burnt in
the vessel, were removed to the remaining ship. It
was reported at the
time, that the prisoners had fired their prison,
which, if true,
proves that they preferred death, even by fire, to the
lingering
sufferings of pestilence and starvation. In the month of
February, 1778, the
remaining prison ship was burnt, when the
prisoners were
removed from her to the ships then wintering in the
Wallabout."
One of the first
notices we have in the newspapers of the day of
American prisoners
is to the following effect: "London, August 5th,
1775. As every
rebel, who is taken prisoner, has incurred the pain of
death by the law
martial, it is said that Government will charter
several transports,
after their arrival at Boston to carry the
culprits to the
East Indies for the Company's service. As it is the
intention of
Government only to punish the ringleaders and commanders
_capitally_, and to
suffer the inferior Rebels to redeem their
lives by entering
into the East India Company's service. This
translation will
only render them more useful subjects than in their
native
country."
This notice, copied
from London papers, appeared in Holt's _New York
Journal_, for
October 19th, 1775. It proved to be no
idle
threat. How many of
our brave soldiers were sent to languish out their
lives in the
British possessions in India, and on the coast of Africa,
we have no means of
knowing. Few, indeed, ever saw their homes again,
but we will give,
in a future chapter, the narrative of one who
escaped from
captivity worse than death on the island of Sumatra.
An account of the
mobbing of William Cunningham and John Hill is given
in both the Tory
and Whig papers of the day. It occurred in March,
1775. "William Cunningham and John Hill were
mobbed by 200 men in New
York, dragged
through the green, Cunningham was robbed of his watch
and the clothes
torn off his back, etc., for being a Tory, and having
made himself
obnoxious to the Americans. He has often
been heard
blustering in
behalf of the ministry, and his behavior has recommended
him to the favor of
several men of eminence, both in the military and
civil departments.
He has often been seen, on a footing of
familiarity, at
their houses, and parading the streets on a horse
belonging to one of
the gentlemen, etc., etc."
The _Virginia
Gazette_ in its issue for the first of July, 1775,
says: "On June
6th, 1775, the prisoners taken at Lexington were
exchanged. The
wounded privates were soon sent on board the Levity.
* * * At about
three a signal was made by the Levity that they were
ready to deliver up
our prisoners, upon which General Putnam and Major
Moncrief went to
the ferry, where they received nine prisoners. The
regular officers
expressed themselves as highly pleased, those who had
been prisoners
politely acknowledged the genteel kindness they had
received from their
captors; the privates, who were all wounded men,
expressed in the
strongest terms their grateful sense of the
tenderness which
had been shown them in their miserable situation;
some of them could
do it only by their tears. It would have been to
the honor of the
British arms if the prisoners taken from us could
with justice have
made the same acknowledgement. It cannot be supposed
that any officers
of rank or common humanity were knowing to the
repeated cruel
insults that were offered them; but it may not be amiss
to hint to the
upstarts concerned, two truths of which they appear to
be wholly ignorant,
viz: That compassion is as essential a part of the
character of a
truly brave man as daring, and that insult offered to
the person
completely in the power of the insulters smells as strong
of cowardice as it
does of cruelty." [Footnote: The
first American
prisoners were
taken on the 17th of June, 1775. These were thrown
indiscriminately
into the jail at Boston without any consideration of
their rank. General
Washington wrote to General Gage on this subject,
to which the latter
replied by asserting that the prisoners had been
treated with care
and kindness, though indiscriminately, as he
acknowledged no
rank that was not derived from the King. General
Carleton during his
command conducted towards the American prisoners
with a degree of
humanity that reflected the greatest honor on his
character."
From Ramsay's "History of the American Revolution"]
At the battle of
the Great Bridge "the Virginia militia showed the
greatest humanity
and tenderness to the wounded prisoners. Several of
them ran through a
hot fire to lift up and bring in some that were
bleeding, and whom
they feared would die if not speedily assisted by
the surgeon. The
prisoners had been told by Lord Dunmore that the
Americans would
scalp them, and they cried out, 'For God's sake do not
murder us!' One of
them who was unable to walk calling out in this
manner to one of
our men, was answered by him: 'Put your arm about my
neck and I'll show
you what I intend to do.' Then taking him, with his
arm over his neck,
he walked slowly along, bearing him with great
tenderness to the
breastwork." _Pennsylvania Evening Post_,
January 6th, 1776.
The Great Bridge
was built over the southern branch of the Elizabeth
River, twelve miles
above Norfolk. Colonel William Woodford commanded
the Virginia
militia on this occasion.
"The scene
closed with as much humanity as it had been conducted with
bravery. The work
of death being over, every one's attention was
directed to the
succor of the unhappy sufferers, and it is an
undoubted fact that
Captain Leslie was so affected with the tenderness
of our troops
towards those who were yet capable of assistance that he
gave signs from the
fort of his thankfulness for it." _Pennsylvania
Evening Post_, Jan.
6th, 1776.
The first mention
we can find of a British prison ship is in the
_New York Packet_
for the 11th of April, 1776: "Captain Hammond *
* * Ordered Captain
Forrester, his prisoner, who was on board the
Roebuck, up to the
prison ship at Norfolk in a pilot boat."
_The Constitutional
Gazette_ for the 19th of April, 1776, has
this announcement,
and though it does not bear directly on the subject
of prisoners, it
describes a set of men who were most active in taking
them, and were
considered by the Americans as more cruel and
vindictive than
even the British themselves.
"Government
have sent over to Germany to engage 1,000 men called
Jagers, people
brought up to the use of the rifle barrel guns in
boar-hunting. They
are amazingly expert. Every petty prince who hath
forests keeps a
number of them, and they are allowed to take
apprentices, by
which means they are a numerous body of people. These
men are intended to
act in the next campaign in America, and our
ministry plume
themselves much in the thought of their being a
complete match for
the American riflemen."
From Gaine's
_Mercury_, a notorious Tory paper published in New
York during the
British occupancy, we take the following: "November
25th, 1776. There are now 5,000 prisoners in town, many
of them half
naked. Congress
deserts the poor wretches,--have sent them neither
provisions nor
clothing, nor paid attention to their distress nor that
of their
families. Their situation must have been
doubly deplorable,
but for the
humanity of the King's officers. Every
possible attention
has been given,
considering their great numbers and necessary
confinement, to
alleviate their distress arising from guilt, sickness,
and poverty."
This needs no
comment. It is too unspeakably false to be worth
contradicting.
"New London,
Conn., November 8th, 1776. Yesterday
arrived E. Thomas,
who was captured
September 1st, carried to New York, and put on board
the Chatham. He
escaped Wednesday sennight."
"New London,
Nov. 20th, 1776. American officers, prisoners on parole,
are walking about
the streets of New York, but soldiers are closely
confined, have but
half allowance, are sickly, and die fast."
"New London,
Nov. 29th, 1776. A cartel arrived here for exchange of
seamen only.
Prisoners had miserable confinement on board of store
ships and
transports, where they suffered for want of the common
necessaries of
life."
"Exact from a
letter written on board the Whitby Prison Ship. New
York, Dec. 9th,
1776. Our present situation is most wretched; more
than 250 prisoners,
some sick and without the least assistance from
physician, drug, or
medicine, and fed on two-thirds allowance of salt
provisions, and
crowded promiscuously together without regard, to
color, person or
office, in the small room of a ship's between decks,
allowed to walk the
main deck only between sunrise and sunset. Only
two at a time
allowed to come on deck to do what nature requires, and
sometimes denied
even that, and use tubs and buckets between decks, to
the great offence
of every delicate, cleanly person, and prejudice of
all our healths.
Lord Howe has liberated all in the merchant service,
but refuses to
exchange those taken in arms but for like prisoners."
(This is an extract
from the Trumbull Papers.)
From a Connecticut
paper: "This may inform those who have friends in
New York, prisoners
of war, that Major Wells, a prisoner, has come
thence to
Connecticut on parole, to collect money for the much
distressed officers
and soldiers there, and desires the money may be
left at Landlord
Betts, Norwalk; Captain Benjamin's, Stratford;
Landlord Beers, New
Haven; Hezekiah Wylly's, Hartford; and at said
Well's, Colchester,
with proper accounts from whom received, and to
whom to be
delivered. N. B. The letters must not be
sealed, or
contain anything of
a political nature." Conn. Papers, Dec.
6th,
1776.
"Conn.
_Gazette_, Feb. 8th, 1777. William Gamble deposes that the
prisoners were
huddled together with negroes, had weak grog; no swab
to clean the ship;
bad oil; raw pork; seamen refused them water;
called them d----d
rebels; the dead not buried, etc."
"Lieut. Wm.
Sterrett, taken August 27, 1776, deposes that his clothing
was stolen, that he
was abused by the soldiers; stinted in food; etc.,
those who had
slight wounds were allowed to perish from neglect. The
recruiting officers
seduced the prisoners to enlist, etc."
"March 7th,
1777. Forty-six prisoners from the Glasgow, transport
ship, were landed
in New Haven, where one of them, Captain Craigie,
died and was
buried." (Their names are published in the Connecticut
_Courant_.)
Connecticut
_Gazette_ of April 30th, 1777, says: "The Connecticut
Assembly sent to
New York a sufficient supply of tow shirts and
trousers for her
prisoners, also £35 to Col. Ethan Allen, by his
brother Levi."
"Lt. Thos.
Fanning, now on parole from Long Island at Norwich, a
prisoner to General
Howe, will be at Hartford on his return to New
York about
September 8th, whence he proposes to keep the public road
to King's Bridge.
Letters and money left at the most noted public
houses in the
different towns, will be conveyed safe to the
prisoners.
Extraordinaries excepted." Connecticut _Gazette_, Aug.
15th, 1777.
"Jan. 8th,
'77. A flag of truce vessel arrived at Milford after a
tedious passage of
eleven days, from New York, having above 200
prisoners, whose
rueful countenances too well discovered the ill
treatment they
received in New York. Twenty died on the passage, and
twenty since they
landed." New Haven, Conn.
CHAPTER XII
THE TRUMBULL PAPERS
AND OTHER SOURCES OF INFORMATION
We will now quote
from the Trumbull Papers and other productions, what
is revealed to the
public of the state of the prisoners in New York in
1776 and 1777. Some
of our information we have obtained from a book
published in 1866
called "Documents and Letters Intended to Illustrate
the Revolutionary
Incidents of Long Island, by Henry Onderdonk, Jr."
He gives an
affecting account of the wounding of General Woodhull,
after his
surrender, and when he had given up his sword.
The British
ruffians who held
him insisted that he should cry, "God save the
King!"
whereupon, taking off his hat, he replied, reverently, "God
save all of
us!" At this the cruel men ran him through, giving him
wounds that proved
mortal, though had they been properly dressed his
life might have
been spared. He was mounted behind a trooper and
carried to
Hinchman's Tavern, Jamaica, where permission was refused to
Dr. Ogden to dress
his wounds. This was on the 28th of
August,
1776. Next day he
was taken westward and put on board an old vessel
off New Utrecht.
This had been a cattle ship. He was next
removed to
the house of
Wilhelmus Van Brunt at New Utrecht. His arm mortified
from neglect and it
was decided to take it off. He sent express to his
wife that he had no
hope of recovery, and begged her to gather up what
provisions she could,
for he had a large farm, and hasten to his
bedside. She accordingly loaded a wagon with bread,
ham, crackers,
butter, etc., and
barely reached her husband in time to see him
alive. With his
dying breath he requested her to distribute the
provisions she had
brought to the suffering and starving American
prisoners.
Elias Baylis, who
was old and blind, was chairman of the Jamaica
Committee of
Safety. He was captured and first imprisoned in the
church at New
Utrecht. Afterwards he was sent to the provost prison in
New York. He had a
very sweet voice, and was an earnest Christian. In
the prison he used
to console himself and his companions in misery by
singing hymns and
psalms. Through the intervention of his friends, his
release was
obtained after two months confinement, but the rigor of
prison life had
been too much for his feeble frame. He died, in the
arms of his
daughter, as he was in a boat crossing the ferry to his
home.
While in the
Presbyterian church in New Utrecht used as a prison by
the British, he had
for companions, Daniel Duryee, William Furman,
William Creed, and
two others, all put into one pew. Baylis asked them
to get the Bible
out of the pulpit and read it to him. They feared to
do this, but
consented to lead the blind man to the pulpit steps. As
he returned with
the Bible in his hands a British guard met him, beat
him violently and
took away the book. They were three weeks in the
church at New
Utrecht. When a sufficient number of Whig prisoners were
collected there
they would be marched under guard to a prison
ship. One old Whig
named Smith, while being conducted to his
destination,
appealed to an onlooker, a Tory of his acquaintance, to
intercede for him.
The cold reply of his neighbor was, "Ah, John,
you've been a great
rebel!" Smith turned to another of his
acquaintances named
McEvers, and said to him, "McEvers, its hard for
an old man like me
to have to go to a prison! Can't you do something
for me?"
"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 such
representations 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 in
America. Next day he was taken to New York. He, with
other prisoners,
was paraded through
the streets to the provost, with a gang of loose
women marching
before them, to add insult to suffering.
Onderdonk says:
"After awhile the rigor of the prison rules was
somewhat
abated." He was allowed to write home, which he did in Dutch,
for provisions,
such as smoked beef, butter, etc. * * * His friends
procured a woman to
do his washing, prepare food and bring it to
him. * * * One day
as he was walking through the rooms followed by his
constant attendant,
a negro with coils of rope around his neck, this
man asked Onderdonk
what he was imprisoned for.
"'I've been a
Committee man,'" said he.
"'Well,' with an
oath and a great deal of abuse, 'You shall be hung
tomorrow.'"
This mulatto was
named Richmond, and was the common hangman. He used
to parade the
provost with coils of ropes, requesting the prisoners to
choose their own
halters. He it was who hung the gallant Nathan Hale,
and was
Cunningham's accessory in all his brutal midnight murders. In
Gaine's paper for
August 4th, 1781, appears the following
advertisement:
"One Guinea Reward, ran away a black man named
Richmond, being the
common hangman, formerly the property of the rebel
Colonel Patterson
of Pa.
"Wm.
Cunningham."
After nearly four
weeks imprisonment the friends of Adrian Onderdonk
procured his
release. He was brought home in a wagon in the night, so
pale, thin, and
feeble from bodily suffering that his family scarcely
recognized him. His
constitution was shattered and he never recovered
his former
strength.
Onderdonk says that
women often brought food for the prisoners in
little baskets,
which, after examination, were handed in. Now and then
the guard might
intercept what was sent, or Cunningham, if the humor
took him, as he
passed through the hall, might kick over vessels of
soup, placed there
by the charitable for the poor and friendless
prisoners.
EXTRACT FROM A
BETTER FROM DR. SILAS HOLMES
"The wounded
prisoners taken at the battle of Brooklyn were put in the
churches of
Flatbush and New Utrecht, but being neglected and
unattended were
wallowing in their own filth, and breathed an infected
and impure air. Ten
days after the battle Dr. Richard Bailey was
appointed to
superintend the sick. He was humane, and dressed the
wounded daily; got
a sack bed, sheet, and blanket for each prisoner;
and distributed the
prisoners into the adjacent barns. When
Mrs. Woodhull
offered to pay Dr. Bailey for his care and attention to
her husband, he
said he had done no more than his duty, and if there
was anything due it
was to me."
Woodhull's wounds
were neglected nine days before Dr. Bailey was
allowed to attend
them.
How long the
churches were used as prisons cannot be ascertained, but
we have no account
of prisoners confined in any of them after the year
1777. In the North
Dutch Church in New York there were, at one time,
eight hundred
prisoners huddled together. It was in
this church that
bayonet marks were
discernible on its pillars, many years after the
war.
The provost and old
City Hall were used as prisons until Evacuation
Day, when O'Keefe
threw his ponderous bunch of keys on the floor and
retired. The prisoners are said to have asked him
where they were to
go.
"To hell, for
what I care," he replied.
"In the Middle
Dutch Church," says Mr. John Pintard, who was a nephew
of Commissary
Pintard, "the prisoners taken on Long Island and at Fort
Washington, sick,
wounded, and well, were all indiscriminately huddled
together, by
hundreds and thousands, large numbers of whom died by
disease, and many
undoubtedly poisoned by inhuman attendants for the
sake of their
watches, or silver buckles."
"What was
called the Brick Church was at first used as a prison, but
soon it and the
Presbyterian Church in Wall Street, the Scotch Church
in Cedar Street,
and the Friends' Meeting House were converted into
hospitals."
Oliver Woodruff,
who died at the age of ninety, was taken prisoner at
Fort Washington,
and left the following record: "We were marched to
New York and went
into different prisons. Eight hundred and sixteen
went into the New
Bridewell (between the City Hall and Broadway); some
into the Sugar
House; others into the Dutch Church. On Thursday
morning they
brought us a little provision, which was the first morsel
we got to eat or
drink after eating our breakfast on Saturday
morning. * * * I
was there (in New Bridewell) three months. In the
dungeons of the old
City Hall which stood on the site of what was
afterwards the
Custom House at first civil offenders were confined,
but afterwards
whale-boatmen and robbers."
Robert Troup, a
young lieutenant in Colonel Lasher's battalion,
testified that he
and Lieut. Edward Dunscomb, Adjutant Hoogland, and
two volunteers were
made prisoners by a detachment of British troops
at three o'clock a
m. on the 27th of August, 1776. They were carried
before the generals
and interrogated, with threats of hanging. Thence
they were led to a
house near Flatbush. At 9 a. m. they were led, in
the rear of the
army, to Bedford. Eighteen officers
captured that
morning were
confined in a small soldier's tent for two nights and
nearly three days.
It was raining nearly all the time.
Sixty
privates, also, had
but one tent, while at Bedford the provost
marshal,
Cunningham, brought with him a negro with a halter, telling
them the negro had
already hung several, and he imagined he would hang
some more. The
negro and Cunningham also heaped abuse upon the
prisoners, showing
them the halter, and calling them rebels,
scoundrels,
robbers, murderers, etc.
From Bedford they
were led to Flatbush, and confined a week in a house
belonging to a Mr.
Leffert, on short allowance of biscuit and salt
pork. Several
Hessians took pity on them and gave them apples, and
once some fresh
beef.
From Flatbush after
a week, he, with seventy or eighty other officers,
were put on board a
snow, lying between Gravesend and the Hook,
without bedding or
blankets; afflicted with vermin; soap and fresh
water for washing
purposes being denied them. They drank and cooked
with filthy water
brought from England. The captain charged a very
large commission
for purchasing necessaries for them with the money
they procured from
their friends.
After six weeks
spent on the snow they were taken on the 17th of
October to New York
and confined in a house near Bridewell. At first
they were not
allowed any fuel, and afterwards only a little coal for
three days in the
week. Provisions were dealt out very negligently,
were scanty, and of
bad quality. Many were ill and most of them would
have died had their
wants not been supplied by poor people and loose
women of the town,
who took pity on them.
"Shortly after
the capture of Fort Washington these officers were
paroled and allowed
the freedom of the town. Nearly half the prisoners
taken on Long
Island died. The privates were treated with great
inhumanity, without
fuel, or the common necessaries of life, and were
obliged to obey the
calls of nature in places of their confinement."
It is said that the
British did not hang any of the prisoners taken in
August on Long
Island, but "played the fool by making them ride with a
rope around their
necks, seated on coffins, to the gallows. Major Otho
Williams was so
treated."
"Adolph Myer,
late of Colonel Lasher's battalion, says he was taken by
the British at
Montresor's Island. They threatened twice to hang him,
and had a rope
fixed to a tree. He was led to General Howe's quarters
near Turtle Bay,
who ordered him to be bound hand and foot. He was
confined four days
on bread and water, in the 'condemned hole' of the
New Jail, without
straw or bedding. He was next put into the College,
and then into the
New Dutch Church, whence he escaped on the
twenty-fourth of
January, 1777. He was treated with great inhumanity,
and would have died
had he not been supported by his friends. * * *
Many prisoners died
from want, and others were reduced to such
wretchedness as to
attract the attention of the loose women of the
town, from whom
they received considerable assistance.
No care was
taken of the sick,
and if any died they were thrown at the door of the
prison and lay
there until the next day, when they were put in a cart
and drawn out to
the intrenchments beyond the Jews' burial ground,
when they were
interred by their fellow prisoners, conducted thither
for that
purpose. The dead were thrown into a
hole promiscuously,
without the usual
rites of sepulchre. Myer was frequently enticed to
enlist." This
is one of the few accounts we have from a prisoner who
was confined in one
of the churches in New York, and he was so
fortunate as to
escape before it was too late. We wish he had given
the details of his
escape. In such a gloomy picture as we are obliged
to present to our
readers the only high lights are occasional acts of
humanity, and such
incidents as fortunate escapes.
It would appear,
from many proofs, that the Hessian soldier was
naturally a good-natured
being, and he seems to have been the most
humane of the
prison guards. We will see, as we go on, instances of
the kindness of
these poor exiled mercenaries, to many of whom the war
was almost as great
a scene of calamity and suffering as it was to the
wretched prisoners
under their care.
"Lieutenant
Catlin, taken September 15th, '76, was confined in prison
with no sustenance
for forty-eight hours; for eleven days he had only
two days allowance
of pork offensive to the smell, bread hard, mouldy
and wormy, made of
canail and dregs of flax-seed; water brackish. 'I
have seen $1.50
given for a common pail full. Three or four pounds of
poor Irish pork
were given to three men for three days. In one church
were 850 prisoners
for near three months.'"
"About the
25th of December he with 225 men were put on board the
Glasgow at New York
to be carried to Connecticut for exchange. They
were aboard eleven
days, and kept on coarse broken bread, and less
pork than before,
and had no fire for sick or well; crowded between
decks, where
twenty-eight died through ill-usage and cold." (This is
taken from the
"History of Litchfield," page 39.)
EXTRACT FROM A
LETTER DATED NEW YORK, DEC. 26, 1776
"The distress
of the prisoners cannot be communicated in words. Twenty
or thirty die every
day; they lie in heaps unburied; what numbers of
my countrymen have
died by cold and hunger, perished for want of the
common necessaries
of life! I have seen it! This, sir, is the boasted
British
clemency! I myself had well nigh perished
under it. The New
England people can
have no idea of such barbarous policy. Nothing can
stop such treatment
but retaliation. I ever despised private revenge,
but that of the
public must be in this case, both just and necessary;
it is due to the
manes of our murdered countrymen, and that alone can
protect the
survivors in the like situation. Rather than experience
again their
barbarity and insults, may I fall by the sword of the
Hessians."
Onderdonk, who
quotes this fragment, gives us no clue to the writer. A
man named S. Young
testifies that, "he was taken at Fort Washington
and, with 500
prisoners, was kept in a barn, and had no provisions
until Monday night,
when the enemy threw into the stable, in a
confused manner, as
if to so many hogs, a quantity of biscuits in
crumbs, mostly
mouldy, and some crawling with maggots, which the
prisoners were
obliged to scramble for without any division. Next day
they had a little
pork which they were obliged to eat raw. Afterwards
they got sometimes
a bit of pork, at other times biscuits, peas, and
rice. They were
confined two weeks in a church, where they suffered
greatly from cold,
not being allowed any fire. Insulted by soldiers,
women, and even
negroes. Great numbers died, three, four, or more,
sometimes, a day.
Afterwards they were carried on board a ship, where
500 were confined
below decks."
The date of this
testimony is given as Dec. 15th, 1776: "W. D. says
the prisoners were
roughly used at Harlem on their way from Fort
Washington to New
York, where 800 men were stored in the New
Bridewell, which
was a cold, open house, the windows not glazed. They
had not one
mouthful from early Saturday morning until Monday. Rations
per man for three
days were half a pound of biscuit, half a pound of
pork, half a gill
of rice, half a pint of peas, and half an ounce of
butter, the whole
not enough for one good meal, and they were
defrauded in this
petty allowance. They had no straw to lie on, no
fuel but one cart load
per week for 800 men. At nine o'clock
the
Hessian guards
would come and put out the fire, and lay on the poor
prisoners with
heavy clubs, for sitting around the fire.
"The water was
very bad, as well as the bread.
Prisoners died like
rotten sheep, with
cold, hunger, and dirt; and those who had good
apparel, such as
buckskin breeches, or good coats, were necessitated
to sell them to
purchase bread to keep them alive."
Hinman, page 277.
"Mrs. White
left New York Jan. 20th, 1777. She says Bridewell, the
College, the New
Jail, the Baptist Meeting House, and the tavern
lately occupied by
Mr. De la Montaigne and several other houses are
filled with sick
and wounded of the enemy. General Lee was under guard
in a small mean
house at the foot of King Street. Wm. Slade says 800
prisoners taken at
Fort Washington were put into the North church. On
the first of
December 300 were taken from the church to the prison
ship. December
second he, with others, was marched to the Grosvenor
transport in the
North River; five hundred were crowded on board. He
had to lie down
before sunset to secure a place." Trumbull Papers.
"Henry
Franklin affirms that about two days after the taking of Fort
Washington he was
in New York, and went to the North Church, in which
were about 800
prisoners taken in said Fort. He inquired into their
treatment, and they
told him they fared hard on account both of
provisions and
lodging, for they were not allowed any bedding, or
blankets, and the
provisions had not been regularly dealt out, so that
the modest or
backward could get little or none, nor had they been
allowed any fuel to
dress their victuals. The prisoners in
New York
were very sickly,
and died in considerable numbers."
"Feb. 11,
1777. Joshua Loring, Commissary of Prisoners, says that but
little provisions
had been sent in by the rebels for their prisoners."
Gaine's Mercury.
_Jan. 4th_. 1777.
"Seventy-seven prisoners went into the Sugar
House. N. Murray
says 800 men were in Bridewell. The doctor gave
poison powders to
the prisoners, who soon died. Some were sent to
Honduras to cut
logwood; women came to the prison-gate to sell
gingerbread."
Trumbull Papers.
The _New York
Gazette_ of May 6th, 1777, states that "of 3000
prisoners taken at
Fort Washington, only 800 are living."
Mr. Onderdonk says:
"There seems to have been no systematic plan
adopted by the
citizens of New York for the relief of the starving
prisoners. We have
scattering notices of a few charitable individuals,
such as the
following:--'Mrs. Deborah Franklin was banished from New
York Nov. 21st,
1780, by the British commandant, for her unbounded
liberality to the
American prisoners. Mrs. Ann Mott was
associated
with Mrs. Todd and
Mrs. Whitten in relieving the sufferings
of
American prisoners
in New York, during the Revolution. John Fillis
died at Halifax,
1792, aged 68. He was kind to American prisoners in
New York. Jacob
Watson, Penelope Hull, etc., are also mentioned.'"
BRITISH ACCOUNT OF
MORTALITY OF PRISONERS
"P. Dobbyn,
master of a transport, thus writes from New York,
Jan. 15th, 1777.
'We had four or five hundred prisoners on board our
ships, but they had
such bad distempers that each ship buried ten or
twelve a day.'
Another writer, under date of Jan. 14th,
'77, says,
'The Churches are
full of American prisoners, who die so fast that 25
or 30 are buried at
a time, in New York City. General Howe gave all
who could walk
their liberty, after taking their oath not to take up
arms against his
Majesty.'" (From a London Journal.)
CHAPTER XIII
A JOURNAL KEPT IN
THE PROVOST
An old man named
John Fell was taken up by the British, and confined
for some months in
the Provost prison. He managed to secrete writing
materials and made
notes of his treatment. He was imprisoned for being
a Whig and one of
the councilmen of Bergen, New Jersey. We will give
his journal entire,
as it is quoted by Mr. Onderdonk.
April 23rd, 1777.
Last night I was taken prisoner from my house by 25
armed men (he lived
in Bergen) who brought me down to Colonel
Buskirk's at Bergen
Point, and from him I was sent to Gen.
Pigot, at
N. Y., who sent me
with Captain Van Allen to the Provost Jail.
24th. Received from
Mrs. Curzon, by the hands of Mr. Amiel, $16, two
shirts, two stocks,
some tea, sugar, pepper, towels, tobacco, pipes,
paper, and a bed
and bedding.
May 1st. Dr. Lewis
Antle and Capt. Thomas Golden at the door, refused
admittance.
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 me
money. Refused
admittance. Capt. Colden came to visit
me.
21. Capt and Mrs
Corne came to visit me, and I was called downstairs
to see them.
23. Lewis Pintard
came as Commissary to take account of officers, in
order to assist
them with money.
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 Long
Island.
29. Stormy in
Provost.
30. Not allowed to
fetch good water.
31. Bad water;
proposing buying tea-water, but refused. This night ten
prisoners 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 Captain
Cunningham'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 of
Sergt. Keath.
(O'Keefe, probably.) And told we are all
alike, no
distinction 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 sickly
and not allowed a
doctor.
17. Capt. Corne
came to speak to me; not allowed.
18. Letter from
prisoners to Sergeant Keath, requesting more
privileges.
19. Received six
bottles claret and sundry small articles, but the
note 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 Sugar
House.
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 speak
at the windows.
17. Peter Zabriskie
had an order to speak with me, and let me know
that all was well
at home
19. Sergt. from
Sugar House came to take account of officers in the
Provost. 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 without
leave of the Sergt.
Everything looks stormy.
6. Warm weather.
Growing better. Mr. Pintard came to supply prisoners
of 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 forbid
the 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 he
had long been
confined and cruelly treated.
17. Mr. Keath
refused me liberty to send a card to Mr Amiel for a lb
of tobacco.
21. Capt. Hyer
discharged from the Provost.
25. Barry brought
up from the dungeon, and Capt. Travis sent down
again without any
provocation.
26. Badcock sent to
dungeon for cutting wood in the evening. Locks put
on all the doors,
and threatened to be locked up. Col. Ethan Allen
brought to the
Provost from Long Island and confined below.
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 Otho
H. Williams brought
from Long Island and confined in our room. Major
Wells from same
place confined below. A. M. William Lawrence of Tappan
died.
8. Campbell,
Taylor, John Cromwell, and Buchanan from Philadelphia
discharged.
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 and
Joralemon. (Jos.
Lemon?)
16. Troops returned
from Jersey. Several prisoners brought to Provost
viz:--Capt. Varick,
Wm. Prevost Brower, etc. Seventeen
prisoners from
Long Island.
22. Nothing
material. Major Wells brought from below upstairs.
24. Received from
Mr. Curson per Mr. Amiel four guineas, six bottles
of wine, and one lb
tobacco.
26. Mr. Pintard
carried list of prisoners and account of grievances to
the General Capt.
Chatham and others carried to dungeon.
28. Yesterday a
number of soldiers were sent below, and several
prisoners brought
out of dungeon. Statement of grievances
presented
to General Jones
which much displeased Sergt. Keath who threatened to
lock up the rooms.
29. Last night
Sergt. K. locked up all the rooms. Rev.
Mr. Jas. Sears
was admitted
upstairs.
30. Sent Mr.
Pintard a list of clothing wanted for continental and
state 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. Received
sundries from Grove
Bend. Three pair ribbed hose, three
towels.
5. Garret Miller,
of Smith's Cove, signed his will in prison, in
presence of
Benjamin Goldsmith, Abr. Skinner, and
myself. C. G.
Miller died of
small-pox--P. M. Buried.
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 the
prisoners.
12. Lt. Col.
Livingstone and upwards of twenty officers from Fort
Montgomery and
Clinton, all below.
13. Received from
Mr. Pintard a letter by flag from Peter R. Fell,
A. M. Mr. Noble
came to the grates to speak to me.
14. Sergt. Keath
sent Lt. Mercer and Mr. Nath.
Fitzrandolph to the
dungeon 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 to
me. Died two A. M.
Oct. 20.
21. Glorious news
from the Northward.
22. Confirmation
strong as Holy Writ. Beef, loaf bread, and butter
drawn today.
23. Weather
continues very cold. Ice in the tub in the hall. A number
of vessels came
down North River. Mr. Wm. Bayard at the door to take
out old Mr. Morris.
24. Prisoners from
the Sugar House sent on board ships.
25. Rev. Mr. Hart
admitted on parole in the city. Sergt.
Woolley from
the Sugar House
came to take names of officers, and says an exchange
is expected.
28. Last night and
today storm continues very severe. Provost in a
terrible condition.
Lt. Col. Livingston admitted upstairs a
few
minutes.
Nov. 1. Lt.
Callender of the train ordered back on Long Island; also
several officers
taken at Fort Montgomery sent on parole to Long
Island.
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 of
town. Yesterday
Sergt refused her the liberty of speaking to
me. Gen.
Robertson's Aid-decamp came to inquire into grievances of
prisoners.
16. Jail
exceedingly disagreeable.--many miserable and shocking
objects, nearly
starved with cold and hunger,--miserable prospect
before me.
18. The Town Major
and Town Adjutant came with a pretence of viewing
the jail.
19. Peter and Cor.
Van Tassel, two prisoners from Tarrytown, in our
room.
20 Mr. Pintard sent
three barrels of flour to be distributed among the
prisoners.
21. Mr. Pintard
came for an account of what clothing the prisoners
wanted.
24. Six tailors
brought here from prison ship to work in making
clothes for
prisoners. They say the people on board are very
sickly. Three
hundred sent on board reduced to one hundred.
25. Mr. Dean and
others brought to jail from the town.
26. Dean locked up
by himself, and Mr. Forman brought upstairs
attended by Rev.
Mr. Inglis, and afterwards ordered downstairs. New
order--one of the
prisoners ordered to go to the Commissary's and see
the provisions
dealt out for the prisoners. Vast numbers of people
assembled at the
Provost in expectation of seeing an execution.
27. John, one of
the milkmen, locked upstairs with a sentry at his
door. A report by
Mr. Webb that a prisoner, Herring, was come down to
be exchanged for Mr
Van Zandt or me.
30. Captain
Cunningham came to the Provost.
Dec. 1. Capt. Money
came down with Mr Webb to be exchanged for Major
Wells.
2. Col. Butler
visited the Provost and promised a doctor should
attend. Received
from Mr Bend cloth for a great coat, etc. Mr. Pmtard
took a list of
clothing wanted for the prisoners.
3. Several
prisoners of war sent from here on board the prison shop, &
some of the sick
sent to the hospital, Dr Romaine being ordered by Sir
H. Clinton to examine the sick Prisoners sickly:
cause,
cold. Prisoners in
upper room (have) scanty clothing and only two
bushels of coal for
room of twenty men per week.
5. Mr. Blanch
ordered out; said to be to go to Morristown to get
prisoners
exchanged. Cold.
7. Mr. Webb came to
acquaint Major Wells his exchange was agreed to
with Capt. Money.
8. Major Gen.
Robertson, with Mayor came to Provost to examine
prisoners. I was
called and examined, and requested my parole. The
General said I had
made bad use of indulgence granted me, in letting
my daughter come to
see me. * * *
9. Major Wells
exchanged.
10. Mr. Pintard
sent 100 loaves for the prisoners. A. M.
Walter
Thurston died.
Prisoners very sickly and die very fast from the
hospitals and
prison ships.
11. Some flags from
North River.
12. Abel Wells
died, a tailor from the prison ship. Mr.
Pintard
brought letters for
sundry people.
14. Sunday. Guards
more severe than ever notwithstanding General
Robertson's promise
of more indulgence. Capt. Van Zandt brought from
Long Island.
16. Sent message to
Mr Pintard for wood. Cold and entirely out of
wood.
17. Commissary
Winslow came and released Major Winslow on his parole
on Long Island.
18. Mr Pintard sent
four cords of wood for the prisoners.
19. Capt. John Paul
Schoot released on parole. Mr Pintard with
clothing for the
people.
21. A paper found
at the door of the Provost, intimating that three
prisoners had a rope
concealed in a bag in one of the rooms in order
to make their
escape. The Sergt. examined all the
rooms, and at night
we were all locked
up.
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 the
petition sent by
Col. Allen for my releasement. The doctor reported to
Dr. Mallet.
29. Gen. Robertson
sent me word I should be liberated in town,
provided I procured
a gentleman in town to be responsible for my
appearance.
Accordingly I wrote to Hon. H. White, Esq.
30. Dr Romaine,
with whom I sent the letter, said Mr White had a
number of
objections, but the doctor hoped to succeed in the
afternoon. Mr.
Winslow came and told the same story I heard the day
before.
31. Sergt. Keath
brought a message from the General to the same
purpose as
yesterday. N. B. I lost the memoranda from this date to the
time of my being
liberated from the Provost on Jan. 7, 1778.
New York Feb. 11.
'78. Received a letter from Joshua Loring, Esq,
Commissary of
Prisoners, with leave from Gen. Robertson for my having
the bounds of the
city allowed me.
March. 23. Wrote to
Major Gen. Robertson and told him this was the
eleventh month of
my imprisonment."
Fell's note to the
general follows, in which he begs to be liberated
to the house of
Mrs. Marriner, who kept an ordinary in the town. A
card in reply from
the general states that it is impossible to comply
with his request
until Mr. Fell's friends give him sufficient security
that he will not
attempt to escape. A Mr. Langdon having broken his
faith in like
circumstances has given rise to a rule, which it is out
of the general's
power to dispense with, etc, etc.
"Feb. 4, 1778.
I delivered to Mr. Pintard the wills of Garret Miller
and Benjamin
Goldsmith, to be forwarded to their respective
families. Present
E. Boudinot.
"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, Deputy
Com. of Prisoners
of my being exchanged for Gov. Skene. Signed by
Joshua Loring,
Commissary General of Prisoners, dated New York, Oct 26
1778."
CHAPTER XIV
FURTHER TESTIMONY
OF CRUELTIES ENDURED BY AMERICAN PRISONERS
Mr. Fell's notes on
his imprisonment present the best picture we can
find of the
condition of the Provost Jail during the term of his
captivity. We have already seen how Mr Elias Boudinot,
American
Commissary of
Prisoners, came to that place of confinement, and what
he found there.
This was in February, 1778. Boudinot also describes
the sufferings of
the American prisoners in the early part of 1778 in
Philadelphia, and
Mr. Fell speaks of Cunningham's return to New
York. He had, it
appears, been occupied in starving prisoners in
Philadelphia during
his absence from the Provost, to which General
Howe sent him back,
after he had murdered one of his victims in
Philadelphia with
the great key.
It appears that the
prisoners in the Provost sent an account of their
treatment to
General Jones, by Mr. Pintard, in
September, 1777,
several months
before the visit of Mr. Elias Boudinot. They complained
that they were
closely confined in the jail without distinction of
rank or character,
amongst felons, a number of whom were under
sentence of death:
that their friends were not allowed to speak to
them, even through
the grates: that they were put on the scanty
allowance of two
pounds hard biscuit, and two pounds of raw pork per
week, without fuel
to dress it. That they were frequently supplied
with water from a
pump where all kinds of filth was thrown, by which
it was rendered
obnoxious and unwholesome, the effects of which were
to cause much
sickness. That good water could have been as easily
obtained. That they
were denied the benefit of a hospital; not
permitted to send
for medicine, nor to have the services of a doctor,
even when in the
greatest distress. That married men and others who
lay at the point of
death were refused permission to have their wives
or other relations
admitted to see them. And that these poor women,
for attempting to
gain admittance, were often beaten from the prison
door. That
commissioned officers, and others, persons of character and
reputation, were
frequently, without a cause, thrown into a loathsome
dungeon, insulted
in a gross manner, and vilely abused by a Provost
Marshal, who was
allowed to be one of the basest characters in the
British Army, and
whose power was so unlimited, that he had caned an
officer, on a
trivial occasion; and frequently beaten the sick
privates when
unable to stand, "many of whom are daily obliged to
enlist in the New
Corps to prevent perishing for want of the
necessaries of
life.
"Neither pen,
ink, or paper allowed (to prevent their treatment being
made public) the
consequence of which indeed, the prisoners themselves
dread, knowing the
malignant disposition of their keeper."
The Board of War
reported on the 21 of January, 1778, that there were
900 privates and
300 officers in New York, prisoners, and that "the
privates have been
crowded all summer in sugar houses, and the
officers boarded on
Long Island, except about thirty, who have been
confined in the
Provost-Guard, and in most loathsome jails, and that
since Oct. 1st, all
those prisoners, both officers and privates, have
been confined in
prisons, prison ships, or the Provost." Lists of
prisoners in the
Provost; those taken by the Falcon, Dec. 1777, and
those belonging to
Connecticut who were in the Quaker and Brick
Meeting House
hospitals in Jan. 1778, may be found in the Trumbull
Papers, VII, 62.
It seems that
General Lee, while a prisoner in New York, in 1778, drew
a prize of $500 in
the New York Lottery, and immediately distributed
it among the
prisoners in that city. A New London, Connecticut, paper,
dated Feb. 20,
1778, states that "it is said that the American
prisoners, since we
have had a Commissary in New York, are well served
with good
provisions, which are furnished at the expense of the
States, and they
are in general very healthy."
We fear this was a
rose-colored view of the matter, though there is no
doubt that our
commissaries did what they could to alleviate the
miseries of
captivity.
Onderdonk quotes
from Gaine's _Mercury_ an advertisement for
nurses in the
hospital, but it is undated.
"Nurses wanted immediately
to attend the
prison hospitals in this city. Good recommendations
required, signed by
two respectable inhabitants. Lewis Pintard."
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 Robert
Shefield, of
Stonington, made his escape from New York after
confinement in a
prison ship. After he was taken he, with his crew of
ten, were thrust
into the fore-peak, and put in irons. On their
arrival at New York
they were carried on board a prison ship, and to
the hatchways, on
opening which, tell not of Pandora's box, for that
must be an
alabaster box in comparison to the opening of these
hatches. True there
were gratings (to let in air) but they kept their
boats upon them.
The steam of the hold was enough to scald the skin,
and take away the
breath, the stench enough to poison the air all
around.
"On his
descending these dreary mansions of woe, and beholding the
numerous spectacles
of wretchedness and despair, his soul fainted
within him. A
little epitome of hell,--about 300 men confined between
decks, half
Frenchmen. He was informed there were three more of these
vehicles of
contagion, which contained a like number of miserable
Frenchmen also, who
were treated worse, if possible, than Americans.
"The heat was
so intense that (the hot sun shining all day on deck)
they were all
naked, which also served the well to get rid of vermin,
but the sick were
eaten up alive. Their sickly countenances, and
ghastly looks were
truly horrible; some swearing and blaspheming;
others crying,
praying, and wringing their hands; and stalking about
like ghosts; others
delirious, raving and storming,--all panting for
breath; some dead,
and corrupting. The air was so foul that at times a
lamp could not be
kept burning, by reason of which the bodies were not
missed until they
had been dead ten days.
"One person
alone was admitted on deck at a time, after sunset, which
occasioned much
filth to run into the hold, and mingle with the bilge
water, which was
not pumped out while he was aboard, notwithstanding
the decks were
leaky, and the prisoners begged permission to let in
water and pump it
out again.
"While Mr.
Sheffield was on board, which was six days, five or six
died daily, and
three of his people. He was sent for on
shore as
evidence in a Court
of Admiralty for condemning his own vessel, and
happily escaped.
"He was
informed in New York that the fresh meat sent in to our
prisoners by our
Commissary was taken by the men-of-war for their own
use. This he can
say: he did not see any aboard the ship he was in,
but they were well
supplied with soft bread from our Commissaries on
shore. But the
provision (be it what it will) is not the
complaint. Fresh
air and fresh water, God's free gift, is all their
cry."
"New London,
Conn. July 31. 78. Last week 500 or 600 prisoners were
released from
confinement at New York and sent out chiefly by way of
New Jersey, being
exchanged."
"New London
Conn. Sep. 26, 78. All American prisoners are nearly sent
out 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 prison
ships 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 172
American prisoners.
They were landed here and in Groton, the greater
part are sickly and
in most deplorable condition, owing chiefly to the
ill usage in the
prison ships, where numbers had their feet and legs
frozen"
CHAPTER XV
THE OLD SUGAR
HOUSE--TRINTY CHURCHYARD
We will now take
our readers with us to the Sugar House on Liberty
Street, long called
the Old Sugar House, and the only one of the three
Sugar Houses which
appear to have been used as a place of confinement
for American
prisoners of war after the year 1777.
We have already
mentioned this dreary abode of wretchedness, but it
deserves a more
elaborate description.
From Valentine's
Manual of the Common Council of New York for 1844 we
will copy the
following brief sketch of the British Prisons in New
York during the
Revolution.
"The British
took possession of New York Sep. 15,
'76, and the
capture of Ft.
Washington, Nov. 16, threw 2700 prisoners into their
power. To these
must be added 1000 taken at the battle of Brooklyn,
and such private
citizens as were arrested for their political
principles, in New
York City and on Long Island, and we may safely
conclude that Sir
William Howe had at least 5000 prisoners to provide
for.
"The sudden
influx of so many prisoners; the recent capture of the
city, and the
unlooked-for conflagration of a fourth part of it, threw
his affairs into
such confusion that, from these circumstances alone,
the prisoners must
have suffered much, from want of food and other
bodily comforts,
but there was superadded the studied cruelty of
Captain Cunningham,
the Provost Marshal, and his deputies, and the
criminal negligence
of Sir Wm. Howe.
"To contain
such a vast number of prisoners the ordinary places of
confinement were
insufficient. Accordingly the Brick Church, the
Middle Church, the
North Church, and the French Church were
appropriated to
their use. Beside these, Columbia College, the Sugar
House, the New
Gaol, the new Bridewell, and the old City Hall were
filled to their
utmost capacity.
"Till within a
few years there stood on Liberty Street, south of the
Middle Dutch
Church, a dark, stone building, with small, deep porthole
looking windows,
rising tier above tier; exhibiting a dungeon-like
aspect. It was five
stories high, and each story was divided into two
dreary apartments.
"On the stones
and bricks in the wall were to be seen names and dates,
as if done with a
prisoner's penknife, or nail. There was a strong,
gaol-like door
opening on Liberty St., and another on the southeast,
descending into a
dismal cellar, also used as a prison. There was a
walk nearly broad
enough for a cart to travel around it, where night
and day, two
British or Hessian guards walked their weary rounds. The
yard was surrounded
by a close board fence, nine feet high. 'In the
suffocating heat of
summer,' says Wm. Dunlap, 'I saw every narrow
aperture of these
stone walls filled with human heads, face above
face, seeking a
portion of the external air.'
"While the
gaol fever was raging in the summer of 1777, the prisoners
were let out in
companies of twenty, for half an hour at a time, to
breathe fresh air,
and inside they were so crowded, that they divided
their numbers into
squads of six each. No. 1 stood for ten minutes as
close to the
windows as they could, and then No. 2 took their places,
and so on.
"Seats there
were none, and their beds were but straw, intermixed with
vermin.
"For many days
the dead-cart visited the prison every morning, into
which eight or ten
corpses were flung or piled up, like sticks of
wood, and dumped
into ditches in the outskirts of the city."
Silas Talbot says:
"A New York gentleman keeps a window shutter that
was used as a checkerboard
in the Sugar House. The prisoners daily
unhinged it, and
played on it."
Many years ago a
small pamphlet was printed in New York to prove that
some of the
American prisoners who died in the Old Sugar House were
buried in Trinity
church-yard. Andrew S. Norwood, who was a boy during
the Revolution,
deposed that he used to carry food to John Van Dyke,
in this prison. The
other prisoners would try to wrest away the food,
as they were driven
mad by hunger. They were frequently fed with bread
made from old,
worm-eaten ship biscuits, reground into meal and
offensive to the
smell. Many of the prisoners died, and some were put
into oblong boxes,
sometimes two in a box, and buried in Trinity
church-yard, and
the boy, himself, witnessed some of the interments. A
part of Trinity
church-yard was used as a common burying-ground,--as
was also the yard
of St. George's Church, and what was called the
Swamp
Burying-Ground.
This boy also
deposed that his uncle Clifford was murdered during the
Revolution, it was
supposed by foreign soldiers, and he was buried in
Trinity
church-yard.
Jacob Freeman, also
a boy during the Revolution, deposed that his
father and several
other inhabitants of Woodbridge were arrested and
sent to New
York. His grandfather was sixty years
old, and when he
was arrested, his
son, who was concealed and could have escaped, came
out of his
hiding-place and surrendered himself for the purpose of
accompanying his
father to prison. The son was a Lieutenant. They were
confined in the
Sugar House several months. Every day
some of the
prisoners died and
were buried in Old Trinity church-yard. Ensign
Jacob Barnitz was
wounded in both legs at the battle of Fort
Washington. He was
conveyed to New York and there thrown into the
Sugar House, and
suffered to lie on the damp ground. A kind friend had
him conveyed to
more comfortable quarters. Barnitz came from York, or
Lancaster, Pa.
Little John Pennell
was a cabin boy, bound to Captain White of the
sloop of war,
Nancy, in 1776. He testified that the prisoners of the
Sugar House, which
was very damp, were buried on the hill called "The
Holy Ground."
"I saw where they were buried. The
graves were long and
six feet wide. Five
or six were buried in one grave." It was Trinity
Church ground.
We will now give an
account of Levi Hanford, who was imprisoned in the
Sugar House in
1777. Levi Hanford was a son of Levi
Hanford, and was
born in
Connecticut, in the town of Norwalk, on the 19th of Feb.,
1759. In 1775 he
enlisted in a militia company. In 1776 he was in
service in New
York. In March 1777, being then a member of a company
commanded by
Captain Seth Seymour, he was captured with twelve others
under Lieut. J. B.
Eels, at the "Old Well" in South Norwalk,
Conn. While a
prisoner in the Old Sugar House he sent the following
letter to his
father. A friend wrote the first part for him, and he
appears to have
finished it in his own handwriting.
New York June 7.
1777
Loving Father:--
I take the opportunity
to let you know I am alive, and in reasonable
health, since I had
the small-pox.--thanks be to the Lord for it. * *
* I received the
things you sent me. * * * I wish you would go and see
if you can't get us
exchanged--if you please. Matthias Comstock is
dead. Sam. Hasted, Ebenezer Hoyt, Jonathan Kellog has
gone to the
hospital to be
inoculated today. We want money very much. I have been
sick but hope I am
better. There is a doctor here that has
helpt
me. * * * I would
not go to the Hospital, for all manner of disease
prevail there. * *
* If you can possibly help us send to the Governor
and try to help
us. * * * Remember my kind love to all
my friends. I
am
Your Obedient son,
Levi Hanford.
Poor Levi Hanford
was sent to the prison ship, Good Intent, and was
not exchanged until
the 8th of May, 1778.
In the
"Journal of American History," the third number of the second
volume, on page
527, are the recollections of Thomas Stone, a soldier
of the Revolution,
who was born in Guilford, Conn., in 1755.
In
April, 1777, he
enlisted under Capt. James Watson in Colonel Samuel
Webb's Regiment,
Connecticut line. He spent the following campaign
near the Hudson.
The 9th of December following Stone and his comrades
under Gen. Parsons,
embarked on board some small vessel at Norwalk,
Conn, with a view
to take a small fort on Long Island. "We left the
shore," he
says, "about six o'clock, P. M. The night was very dark,
the sloop which I
was aboard of parted from the other vessels, and at
daybreak found
ourselves alongside a British frigate. Our sloop
grounded, we struck
our colors-fatal hour! We were conducted to New
York, introduced to
the Jersey Prison Ship. We were all destitute of
any clothing except
what we had on; we now began to taste the vials of
Monarchial tender
mercy.
"About the
25th of Jan. 1778, we were taken from the ships to the
Sugar House, which
during the inclement season was more intolerable
than the Ships.
"We left the
floating Hell with joy, but alas, our joy was of short
duration. Cold and
famine were now our destiny. Not a pane of glass,
nor even a board to
a single window in the house, and no fire but once
in three days to
cook our small allowance of provision. There was a
scene that truly
tried body and soul. Old shoes were bought and eaten
with as much relish
as a pig or a turkey; a beef bone of four or five
ounces, after it
was picked clean, was sold by the British guard for
as many coppers.
"In the spring
our misery increased; frozen feet began to mortify; by
the first of April,
death took from our numbers, and, I hope, from
their misery, from
seven to ten a day; and by the first of May out of
sixty-nine taken
with me only fifteen were alive, and eight out of
that number unable
to work.
"Death stared
the living in the face: we were now attacked by a fever
which threatened to
clear our walls of its miserable inhabitants.
"About the
20th of July I made my escape from the prison-yard. Just
before the lamps
were lighted. I got safely out of the
city, passed
all the guards, was
often fired at, but still safe as to any injury
done me; arrived at
Harlem River eastward of King's Bridge.
"Hope and fear
were now in full exercise. The alarm was struck by the
sentinels keeping
firing at me. I arrived at the banks of
Harlem,--five men
met me with their bayonets at my heart; to resist
was instant death,
and to give up, little better.
"I was
conducted to the main guard, kept there until morning then
started for New
York with waiters with bayonets at my back, arrived at
my old habitation
about 1 o'clock, P. M.; was introduced to the Prison
keeper who
threatened me with instant death, gave me two heavy blows
with his cane; I
caught his arm and the guard interfered. Was driven
to the provost,
thrust into a dungeon, a stone floor, not a blanket,
not a board, not a
straw to rest on. Next day was visited by a Refugee
Lieutenant, offered
to enlist me, offered a bounty, I declined. Next
day renewed the
visit, made further offers, told me the General was
determined I should
starve to death where I was unless I would enter
their service. I
told him his General dare not do it. (I shall here
omit the
imprecations I gave him in charge.)
"The third day
I was visited by two British officers, offered me a
sergeant's post,
threatened me with death as before, in case I
refused. I replied,
'Death if they dare!'
"In about ten
minutes the door was opened, a guard took me to my old
habitation the
Sugar House, it being about the same time of day I left
my cell that I entered
it, being three days and nights without a
morsel of food or a
drop of water,--all this for the crime of getting
out of prison. When
in the dungeon reflecting upon my situation I
thought if ever
mortal could be justified in praying for the
destruction of his
enemies, I am the man.
"After my
escape the guard was augmented, and about this time a new
prison keeper was
appointed, our situation became more tolerable.
"The 16th of
July was exchanged. Language would fail me to describe
the joy of that
hour; but it was transitory. On the morning of the
16th, some friends,
or what is still more odious, some Refugees, cast
into the Prison
yard a quantity of warm bread, and it was devoured
with greediness.
The prison gate was opened, we marched out about the
number of 250.
Those belonging to the North and Eastern States were
conducted to the
North River and driven on board the flag ship, and
landed at
Elizabethtown, New Jersey. Those who ate of the bread soon
sickened; there was
death in the bread they had eaten. Some
began to
complain in about
half an hour after eating the bread, one was taken
sick after another
in quick succession and the cry was, 'Poison,
poison!' I was taken sick about an hour after eating.
When we landed,
some could walk,
and some could not. I walked to town
about two
miles, being led
most of the way by two men. About one half of our
number did not eat
of the bread, as a report had been brought into the
prison _that the
prisoners taken at Fort Washington had been
poisoned in the
same way_.
"The sick were
conveyed in wagons to White Plains, where I expected to
meet my regiment,
but they had been on the march to Rhode Island I
believe, about a
week. I was now in a real dilemma; I had not the
vestige of a shirt
to my body, was moneyless and friendless. What to
do I knew not. Unable to walk, a gentleman, I think his name
was
Allen, offered to
carry me to New Haven, which he did. The next day I
was conveyed to
Guilford, the place of my birth, but no near relative
to help me. Here I learned that my father had died in the
service the
Spring before. I
was taken in by a hospitable uncle, but in moderate
circumstances. Dr.
Readfield attended me for about four months I was
salivated twice,
but it had no good effect. They sent me 30 miles to
Dr Little of East
Haddam, who under kind Providence restored me to
such state of
health that I joined my Regiment in the Spring
following.
"In the year
1780, I think in the month of June, General Green met the
enemy at
Springfield, New Jersey, and in the engagement I had my left
elbow dislocated in
the afternoon. The British fired the village and
retreated. We
pursued until dark. The next morning my arm was so
swollen that it
_could_ not, or at least was not put right, and
it has been ever
since a weak, feeble joint, which has disabled me
from most kinds of
manual labor."
To this account the
grandson of Thomas Stone, the Rev. Hiram Stone,
adds some notes, in
one of which he says, speaking of the Sugar House:
"I have
repeatedly heard my grandfather relate that there were no
windows left in the
building, and that during the winter season the
snow would be
driven entirely across the great rooms in the different
stories, and in the
morning lie in drifts upon our poor, hungry,
unprotected
prisoners. Of a morning several frozen corpses would be
dragged out, thrown
into wagons like logs, then driven away and
pitched into a
large hole or trench, and covered up like dead brutes."
Speaking of the
custom of sending the exchanged prisoners as far as
possible from their
own homes, he says: "I well remember hearing my
grandfather explain
this strange conduct of the enemy in the following
way. Alter the
poison was thus perfidiously administered, the
prisoners belonging
at the North were sent across to the Jersey side,
while those of the
South were sent in an opposite direction, the
intention of the
enemy evidently being to send the exchanged prisoners
as far from home as
possible, that most of them might die of the
effect of the
poison before reaching their friends. Grandfather used
to speak of the
treatment of our prisoners as most cruel and
murderous, though
charging it more to the Tories or Refugees than to
the British.
"The effects
of the poison taken into his system were never eradicated
in the life-time of
my grandfather, a 'breaking out,' or rash,
appearing every
spring, greatly to his annoyance and discomfort."
CHAPTER XVI
THE CASE OF JOHN
BLATCHFORD
In our attempt to
describe the sufferings of American prisoners taken
during the
Revolution, we have, for the most part, confined ourselves
to New York, only
because we have been unable to make extensive
research into the
records of the British prisons in other places. But
what little we have
been able to gather on the subject of the
prisoners sent out
of America we will also lay before our readers.
We have already
stated the fact that some of our prisoners were sent
to India and some
to Africa. They seem to have been sold into slavery,
and purchased by
the East India Company, and the African Company as
well.
It is doubtful if
any of the poor prisoners sent to the unwholesome
climate of Africa
ever returned to tell the story of British cruelties
inflicted upon them
there,--where hard work in the burning
sun,--scanty
fare,--and jungle fever soon ended their miseries. But
one American
prisoner escaped from the Island of Sumatra, where he had
been employed in
the pepperfields belonging to the East India
Company. His story
is eventful, and we will give the reader an
abridgement of it,
as it was told by himself, in his narrative, first
published in a New
England newspaper.
John Blatchford was
born at Cape Ann, Mass., in the year 1762. In
June, 1777, he went
as a cabin boy on board the Hancock, a continental
ship commanded by
Capt. John Manly. On the 8th of July the Hancock was
captured by the
Rainbow, under Sir George Collier, and her crew was
taken to Halifax.
John Blatchford
was, at this time, in his sixteenth year. He was of
medium height, with
broad shoulders, full chest, and well proportioned
figure. His
complexion was sallow, his eyes dark, and his hair black
and curly. He
united great strength with remarkable endurance, else he
could not have
survived the rough treatment he experienced at the
hands of fate. It
is said that as a man he was temperate, grave, and
dignified, and
although his strength was so great, and his courage
most undaunted, yet
he was peaceable and slow to anger. His narrative
appears to have
been dictated by himself to some better educated
person. It was
first published in New London, Conn., in the year
1788. In the year
1797 an abstract of it appeared in Philip Freneau's
_Time Piece_, a
paper published in New York. In July, 1860, the
entire production
was published in the _Cape Ann Gazette_.
We
will now continue
the narrative in Blatchford's own words:
"On our
arrival at Halifax we were taken on shore and confined in a
prison 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 be
very sickly. * * *
George Barnard, who had been a midshipman on the
Hancock, and who
was confined in the same room as myself, concerted a
plan to release us,
which was to be effected by digging a small
passage under
ground, to extend to a garden that was behind the
prison, and without
the prison wall, where we might make a breach in
the night with
safety, and probably all obtain our liberty. This plan
greatly elated our
spirits, and we were anxious to proceed immediately
in executing it.
"Our cabins
were built one above another, from the floor to the height
of a man's head;
and mine was pitched upon to be taken up; and six of
us agreed to do the
work, whose names were George Barnard, William
Atkins, late
midshipmen in the Hancock; Lemuel Towle of Cape Ann,
Isaiah Churchill of
Plymouth; Asa Cole of Weathersfield, and myself.
"We took up
the cabin and cut a hole in the plank underneath. The
sugar house stood
on a foundation of stone which raised the floor four
feet above the
ground, and gave us sufficient room to work, and to
convey away the
dirt that we dug up.
"The
instruments that we had to work with were one scraper, one long
spike, and some
sharp sticks; with these we proceeded in our difficult
undertaking. As the hole was too small to admit of more
than one
person to work at a
time we dug by turns during ten or twelve days,
and carried the
dirt in our bosoms to another part of the cellar. By
this time we
supposed we had dug far enough, and word was given out
among the prisoners
to prepare themselves for flight.
"But while we
were in the midst of our gayety, congratulating
ourselves upon our
prospects, we were basely betrayed by one of our
own countrymen,
whose name was Knowles. He had been a midshipman on
board the Boston
frigate, and was put on board the Fox when she was
taken by the
Hancock and Boston. What could have
induced him to
commit so vile an
action cannot be conceived, as no advantage could
accrue to him from
our detection, and death was the certain
consequence to many
of his miserable countrymen. That it was
so is
all that I can say.
A few hours before we were to have attempted our
escape Knowles
informed the Sergeant of the guard of our design, and
by his treachery
cost his country the lives of more than one hundred
valuable
citizens,--fathers, and husbands, whose return would have
rejoiced the hearts
of now weeping, fatherless children, and called
forth tears of joy
from wives, now helpless and disconsolate widows.
"When we were
discovered the whole guard were ordered into the room
and being informed
by Knowles who it was that performed the work we
were all six
confined in irons; the hole was filled up and a sentinel
constantly placed
in the room, to prevent any further attempt.
"We were all
placed in close confinement, until two of my
fellow-sufferers,
Barnard and Cole, died; one of which was put into
the ground with his
irons on his hands.
"I was
afterwards permitted to walk the yard. But as my irons were too
small, and caused
my hands to swell, and made them very sore, I asked
the Sergeant to
take them off and give me larger ones. He being a
person of humanity,
and compassionating my sufferings, changed my
irons for others
that were larger, and more easy to my hands.
"Knowles, who
was also permitted to walk the yard, for his perfidy,
would take every
opportunity to insult and mortify me, by asking me
whether I wanted to
run away again, and when I was going home, etc?
"His daily
affronts, together with his conduct in betraying, his
countrymen, so
exasperated me that I wished for nothing more than an
opportunity to
convince him that I did not love him.
"One day as he
was tantalizing over me as usual, I suddenly drew my
one hand out of my
irons, flew at him and struck him in the face,
knocked out two or
three of his teeth, and bruised his mouth very
much. He cried out that the prisoner had got loose,
but before any
assistance came, I
had put my hand again into the hand-cuff, and was
walking about the
yard as usual. When the guard came they demanded of
me in what manner I
struck him. I replied with both my hands.
"They then
tried to pull my hands out, but could not, and concluded it
must be as I said.
Some laughed and some were angry, but in the end I
was ordered again
into prison.
"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, in
which we sprung our
main-mast, and received considerable other
damage. We were
then obliged to bear away for the West Indies, and on
our passage fell in
with and took a brig from Norwich, laden with
stock.
"The Captain
and hands were put on board a Danish vessel the same
day. We carried the
brig into Antigua, where we immediately repaired,
and were ordered in
company of the Vulture, sloop of war, to convoy a
sloop of
merchantmen into New York.
"We left the
fleet off Sandy Hook, and sailed for Philadelphia, where
we lay until we
were made a packet, and ordered for Halifax with
dispatches. We had
a quick passage, and arrived safe.
"While we lay
in the road Admiral Byron arrived, in the Princess Royal
from England, who,
being short of men, and we having a surplusage for
a packet, many of
our men were ordered on board the Princess Royal,
and among them most
of our boat's crew.
"Soon after,
some of the officers going on shore, I was ordered into
the boat. We landed
at the Governor's slip--it being then near
night. This was the
first time since I had been on board the Greyhound
that I had had an
opportunity to escape from her, as they were before
this particularly
careful of me; therefore I was determined to get
away if possible,
and to effect it I waded round a wharf and went up a
byway, fearing I
should meet the officers. I soon got into the street,
and made the best
of my way towards Irishtown (the southern suburbs of
Halifax) where I
expected to be safe, but unfortunately while running
I was met and
stopped by an emissary, who demanded of me my business,
and where I was
going? I tried to deceive him, that he
might let me
pass, but it was in
vain, he ordered me to follow him.
"I offered him
what money I had, about seven shillings, sixpence, to
let me go, this too
was in vain. I then told him I was an
American,
making my escape,
from a long confinement, and was determined to pass,
and took up a
stone. He immediately drew his bayonet, and ordered me
to go back with
him. I refused and told him to keep his distance. He
then run upon me
and pushed his bayonet into my side. It
come out
near my navel; but
the wound was not very deep; he then made a second
pass at me, and
stabbed me through my arm; he was about to stab me a
third time, when I
struck him with the stone and knocked him down. I
then run, but the
guard who had been alarmed, immediately took me and
carried me before
the Governor, where I understood the man was dead.
"I was
threatened with every kind of death, and ordered out of the
Governor's
presence. * * * Next day I was sent on board the Greyhound,
the ship I had run
from, and we sailed for England. Our captain being
a humane man
ordered my irons off, a few days after we sailed, and
permitted me to do
duty as formerly. Being out thirteen days we spoke
the Hazard sloop of
war, who informed that the French fleet was then
cruising in the
English Channel. For this reason we put into Cork, and
the dispatches were
forwarded to England.
"While we lay
in the Cove of Cork I jumped overboard with the
intention of
getting away; unfortunately I was discovered and fired at
by the marines; the
boat was immediately sent after me, took me up,
and carried me on
board again. At this time almost all the officers
were on shore, and
the ship was left in charge of the sailing-master,
one Drummond, who
beat me most cruelly. To get out of his way I run
forward, he
followed me, and as I was running back he came up with me
and threw me down
the main-hold. The fall, together with the beating
was so severe that
I was deprived of my senses for a considerable
time. When I
recovered them I found myself in the carpenter's berth,
placed upon some
old canvas between two chests, having my right thigh,
leg and arm broken,
and several parts of my body severely bruised. In
this situation I
lay eighteen days till our officers, who had been on
business to Dublin,
came on board. The captain inquired for the
prisoners, and on
being informed of my situation came down with the
doctor to set my
bones, but finding them callussed they concluded not
to meddle with me.
"The ship lay
at Cork until the French fleet left the Channel, and
then sailed for
Spithead. On our arrival there I was sent in irons on
board the Princess
Amelia, and the next day was carried on board the
Brittania, in
Portsmouth Harbor, to be tried before Sir Thomas Pye,
lord high admiral
of England, and President of the court martial.
"Before the
officers had collected I was put under the care of a
sentinel, and the
seamen and women who came on board compassionated my
sufferings, which
rather heightened than diminished my distress.
"I was sitting
under the awning, almost overpowered by the reflection
of my unhappy
situation, every morning expecting to be summoned for my
trial, when I heard
somebody enquire for the prisoner, and supposing
it to be an officer
I rose up and answered that I was there.
"The gentleman
came to me, told me to be of good chear, and taking out
a bottle of
cordial, bade me drink, which I did. He then enquired
where I
belonged. I informed him. He asked me if
I had parents
living, and if I
had any friends in England? I answered I had
neither. He then
assured me he was my friend, and would render me all
the assistance in
his power. He then enquired of me every circumstance
relative to my fray
with the man at Halifax, for whose death I was now
to be tried and
instructed me what to say on my trial, etc."
Whether this man
was a philanthropist, or an agent for the East India
Company, we do not
know. He instructed Blatchford to plead
guilty,
and then defended
him from the charge of murder, no doubt on the plea
of self-defence.
Blatchford was therefore acquitted of murder, but
apparently sold to
the East India Company as a slave. How this was
condoned we do not
know, but will let the poor sailor continue his
narrative in his
own words.
"I was carried
on board an Indiaman, and immediately put down into the
run, where I was
confined ten days. * * * On the seventh day I heard
the boatswain pipe
all hands, and about noon I was called up on board,
where I found
myself on board the Princess Royal, Captain Robert Kerr,
bound to the East
Indies, with six others, all large ships belonging
to the East India
Company." He had been told that he was to be sent
back to America to
be exchanged, and his disappointment amounted
almost to despair.
"Our captain
told me if I behaved well and did my duty I should
receive as good
usage as any man on board; this gave me great
encouragement. I
now found my destiny fixed, that whatever I could do
would not in the
least alter my situation, and therefor was determined
to do the best I
could, and make myself as contented as my unfortunate
situation would
admit.
"After being
on board seven days I found there were in the Princess
Royal 82 Americans,
all destined to the East Indies, for being what
they called
'Rebels.'
"We had a
passage of seventeen weeks to St Helena, where we put in and
landed part of our
cargo, which consisted wholly of provisions. * * *
The ship lay here
about three weeks. We then sailed for Batavia, and
on the passage
touched at the Cape of Good Hope, where we found the
whole of the fleet
that sailed with us from England. We took in some
provisions and
necessaries, and set sail for Batavia, where we arrived
in ten weeks. Here
we purchased a large quantity of arrack, and
remained a
considerable time.
"We then
sailed for Bencoulen in the Island of Sumatria, and after a
passage of about
six weeks arrived there. This was in June, 1780.
"At this place
the Americans were all carried on shore, and I found
that I was no
longer to remain on board the ship, but condemned to
serve as a soldier
for five years. I offered to bind myself to the
captain for five
years, or any longer term if I might serve on board
the ship. He told
me it was impossible for me to be released from
acting as a
soldier, unless I could pay £50, sterling. As I was unable
to do this I was
obliged to go through the manual exercise with the
other prisoners;
among whom was Wm. Randall of Boston, and Josiah
Folgier of
Nantucket, both young men, and one of them an old ship-mate
of mine.
"These two and
myself agreed to behave as ignorant and awkward as
possible, and what
motions we learned one day we were to forget the
next. We pursued
this conduct nearly a fortnight, and were beaten
every day by the
drill-sergeant who exercised us, and when he found we
were determined, in
our obstinacy, and that it was not possible for
him to learn us
anything, we were all three sent into the pepper
gardens belonging
to the East India Company; and continued picking
peppers from
morning till night, and allowed but two scanty meals a
day. This, together
with the amazing heat of the sun, the island lying
under the equator,
was too much for an American constitution, unused
to a hot climate,
and we expected that we should soon end our misery
and our lives; but
Providence still preserved us for greater
hardships.
"The Americans
died daily with heat and hard fare, which determined my
two comrades and
myself in an endeavor to make our escape. We had been
in the
pepper-gardens four months when an opportunity offered, and we
resolved upon trying
our fortune. Folgier, Randall and myself
sat out
with an intention
of reaching Croy (a small harbor where the Dutch
often touched at to
water, on the opposite side of the island).
Folgier had by some
means got a bayonet, which he fixed in the end of
a stick. Randall
and myself had nothing but staves, which were all the
weapons we carried
with us. We provided ourselves with fireworks [he
means flints to
strike fire] for our journey, which we pursued
unmolested till the
fourth day just at night, when we heard a rustle
in the bushes and
discovered nine sepoys, who rushed out upon us.
"Folgier being
the most resolute of us run at one of them, and pushed
his bayonet through
his body into a tree. Randall knocked down
another; but they
overpowered us, bound us, and carried us back to the
fort, which we
reached in a day and a half, though we had been four
days travelling
from it, owing to the circle we made by going round
the shore, and they
came across the woods being acquainted with the
way.
"Immediately
on our arrival at the fort the Governor called a court
martial, to have us
tried. We were soon all condemned to be shot next
morning at seven
o'clock, and ordered to be sent into the dungeon and
confined in irons,
where we were attended by an adjutant who brought a
priest with him to
pray and converse with us, but Folgier, who hated
the sight of an
Englishman, desired that we might be left alone. * * *
the clergyman
reprimanded him, and told him he made very light of his
situation on the
supposition that he would be reprieved; but if he
expected it he
deceived himself. Folgier still persisted in the
clergyman's leaving
us, if he would have us make our peace with God,
'for,' said he,
'the sight of Englishmen, from whom we have received
such treatment, is
more disagreeable than the evil spirits of which
you have spoken;'
that, if he could have his choice, he would choose
death in preference
to life, if he must have it on the condition of
such barbarous
usage as he had received from their hands; and the
thoughts of death
did not seem so hideous to him as his past
sufferings.
"He visited us
again about midnight, but finding his company was not
acceptable, he soon
left us to our melancholy reflections.
"Before
sunrise we heard the drums beat, and soon after heard the
direful noise of
the door grating on its iron hinges. We were all
taken out, our
irons taken off, and we conducted by a strong guard of
soldiers to the
parade, surrounded by a circle of armed men, and led
into the midst of
them, where three white officers were placed by our
side;--silence was
then commanded, and the adjutant taking a paper out
of his pocket read
our sentence;--and now I cannot describe my
feelings upon this
occasion, nor can it be felt by any one but those
who have
experienced some remarkable deliverance from the grim hand of
death, when
surrounded on all sides, and nothing but death expected
from every quarter,
and by Divine Providence there is some way found
out for escape--so
it seemed to me when the adjutant pulled out
another paper from
his pocket and read: 'That the Governor and
Council, in
consideration of the youth of Randall and myself,
supposing us to be
led on by Folgier, who was the oldest, thought
proper to pardon us
from death, and that instead we were to receive
800 lashes each.'
"Although this
last sentence seemed terrible to me, yet in comparison
with death, it
seemed to be light. Poor Folgier was
shot in our
presence,--previous
to which we were told we might go and converse
with him. Randall
went and talked with him first, and after him I went
up to take my
leave, but my feelings were such at the time I had not
power to utter a
single word to my departing friend, who seemed as
undaunted and seemingly
as willing to die as I was to be released, and
told me not to
forget the promises we had formerly made to each other,
which was to
embrace the first opportunity to escape.
"We parted,
and he was immediately after shot dead. We were next taken
and tied, and the
adjutant brought a small whip made of cotton, which
consisted of a
number of strands and knotted at the ends; but these
knots were all cut
off by the adjutant before the drummer took it,
which made it not
worse than to have been whipped with cotton yarn.
"After being
whipped 800 lashes we were sent to the Company's
hospital, where we
had been about three weeks when Randall told me he
intended very soon
to make his escape:--This somewhat surprised me, as
I had lost all
hopes of regaining my liberty, and supposed he had. I
told him I had
hoped he would never mention it again; but however, if
that was his
design, I would accompany him. He advised me, if I was
fearful, to tarry
behind; but finding he was determined on going, I
resolved to run the
risque once more; and as we were then in a
hospital we were
not suspected of such a design.
"Having
provided ourselves with fire-works, and knives, about the
first of December,
1780, we sat out, with the intent to reach the
Dutch settlement of
Croy, which is about two or three hundred miles
distance upon a
direct line, but as we were obliged to travel along
the coast (fearing
to risque the nearest way), it was a journey of 800
miles.
"We took each
a stick and hung it around our neck, and every day cut a
notch, which was
the method we took to keep time.
"In this
manner we travelled, living upon fruit, turtle eggs, and
sometimes turtle,
which we cooked every night with the fire we built
to secure us from
wild beasts, they being in great plenty,--such as
buffaloes, tigers,
jackanapes, leopards, lions, and baboons and
monkies.
"On the 30th
day of our traveling we met with nothing we could eat and
found no water. At
night we found some fruit which appeared to the
eyes to be very
delicious, different from any we had seen in our
travels. It
resembled a fruit which grows in the West Indies, called a
Jack, about the
size of an orange. We being very dry and hungry
immediately
gathered some of this fruit, but finding it of a sweet,
sickish taste, I
eat but two. Randall eat freely. In the evening we
found we were
poisoned: I was sick and puked considerably, Randall was
sick and began to
swell all round his body. He grew worse all night,
but continued to
have his senses till the next day, when he died, and
left me to mourn my
greater wretchedness,--more than 400 miles from
any settlement, no
companion, the wide ocean on one side, and a
prowling wilderness
on the other, liable to many kinds of death, more
terrible than being
shot.
"I laid down
by Randall's body, wishing, if possible, that he might
return and tell me
what course to take. My thoughts almost
distracted
me, so that I was
unable to do anything untill the next day, during
all which time I
continued by the side of Randall. I then got up and
made a hole in the
sand and buried him.
"I now
continued my journey as well as the weak state of my body would
permit,--the
weather being at the time extremely hot and rainy. I
frequently lay down
and would wish that I might never rise
again;--despair had
almost wholly possessed me; and sometimes in a
kind of delirium I
would fancy I heard my mother's voice, and my
father calling me,
and I would answer them. At other times my wild
imagination would
paint to my view scenes which I was acquainted
with. Then
supposing myself near home I would run as fast as my legs
could carry
me. Frequently I fancied that I heard
dogs bark, men
cutting wood, and
every noise which I have heard in my native country.
"One day as I
was travelling a small dog, as I thought it to be, came
fawning round me
and followed me, but I soon discovered it to be a
young lion. I supposed that its dam must be nigh, and
therefore
run. It followed me
some time and then left me. I proceeded on, but
had not got far
from it before it began to cry. I looked round and saw
a lioness making
towards it. She yelled most frightfully, which
greatly terrified
me; but she laid down something from her mouth for
her young one, and
then with another yell turned and went off from me.
"Some days
after I was travelling by the edge of a woods, which from
its appearance had
felt severely the effects of a tornado or
hurricane, the
trees being all torn up by the roots, and I heard a
crackling noise in
the bushes. Looking about I saw a monstrous large
tiger making slowly
towards me, which frightened me exceedingly. When
he had approached
within a few rods of me, in my surprise I lifted up
my hands and
hollowed very loud. The sudden noise frightened him,
seemingly as much
as I had been, and he immediately turned and run
into the woods, and
I saw him no more.
"After this I
continued to travel on without molestation, only from
the monkies who
were here so plentiful that oftentimes I saw them in
large droves;
sometimes I run from them, as if afraid of them, they
would then follow,
grin, and chatter at me, and when they got near I
would turn, and
they would run from me back into the woods, and climb
the trees to get
out of my way.
"It was now 15
weeks since I had left the hospital. I
had travelled
most all of the day
without any water and began to be very thirsty,
when I heard the
sound of running water, as it were down a fall of
rocks. I had heard
it a considerable time and at last began to suspect
it was nothing, but
imaginary, as many other noises I had before
thought to have
heard. I however went on as fast as I could, and at
length discovered a
brook. On approaching it I was not a little
surprised and
rejoiced by the sight of a Female Indian, who was
fishing at the
brook. She had no other dress on than that which mother
nature affords
impartially to all her children, except a small cloth
which she wore
round her waist.
"I knew not
how to address myself to her. I was afraid if I spoke she
would run, and
therefore I made a small noise; upon which she looked
round, and seeing
me, run across the brook, seemingly much frightened,
leaving her fishing
line. I went up to her basket which contained five
or six fish which
looked much like our trout. I took up the basket and
attempted to wade
across where she had passed, but was too weak to
wade across in that
place, and went further up the stream, where I
passed over, and
then looking for the Indian woman I saw her at some
distance behind a
large cocoa-nut tree. I walked towards her but dared
not keep my eyes
steadily upon her lest she would run as she did
before. I called to
her in English, and she answered in her own
tongue, which I
could not understand. I then called to her in the
Malaysian, which I
understood a little of; she answered me in a kind
of surprise and
asked me in the name of Okrum Footee (the name of
their God) from
whence I came, and where I was going. I
answered her
as well as I could
in the Melais, that I was from Fort Marlborough,
and going to
Croy--that I was making my escape from the English, by
whom I had been
taken in war. She told me that she had been taken by
the Malays some
years before, for that the two nations were always at
war, and that she
had been kept as a slave among them three years and
was then retaken by
her countrymen. While we were talking together she
appeared to be very
shy, and I durst not come nearer than a rod to
her, lest she
should run from me. She said that Croy, the place I was
bound to, was about
three miles distant: That if I would follow her
she would conduct
me to her countrymen, who were but a small distance
off. I begged her to plead with her countrymen to
spare my life. She
said she would, and
assured me that if I behaved well I should not be
hurt. She then
conducted me to a small village, consisting of huts or
wigwams. When we
arrived at the village the children that saw me were
frightened and run
away from me, and the women exhibited a great deal
of fear and kept at
a distance. But my guide called to them and told
them not to be
afraid, for that I was not come to hurt them, and then
informed them from
whence I came, and that I was going to Croy.
"I told my
guide I was very hungry, and she sent the children for
something for me to
eat. They came and brought me little round balls
of rice, and they,
not daring to come nigh, threw them at me. These I
picked up and eat.
Afterwards a woman brought some rice and goat's
milk in a copper
bason, and setting it on the ground made signs for me
to take it up and
eat it, which I did, and then put the bason down
again. They then
poked away the bason with a stick, battered it with
stones, and making
a hole in the ground, buried it.
"After that
they conducted me to a small hut, and told me to tarry
there until the
morning, when they would conduct me to the harbor. I
had but little
sleep that night, and was up several time to look out,
and saw two or
three Indians at a little distance from the hut, who I
supposed were
placed there to watch me.
"Early in the
morning numbers came around the hut, and the female who
was my guide asked
me where my country was? I could not make her
understand, only
that it was at a great distance. She then asked me if
my countrymen eat
men? I told her, no, and seeing some goats pointed
at them, and told
her we eat such as them. She then asked me what made
me white, and if it
was not the white rain that come upon us when we
were small * * * as
I wished to please them I told her that I supposed
it was, for it was
only in certain seasons of the year that it fell,
and in hot weather
when it did not fall the people grew darker until
it returned, and
then the people all grew white again. This seemed to
please them very
much.
"My
protectress then brought a young man to me who she said was her
brother, and who
would show me the way to the harbour. She then cut a
stick about eight
feet long, and he took hold of one end and gave me
the other. She told
me that she had instructed her brother what to say
at the
harbour. He then led off, and I
followed. During our walk I
put out my hand to
him several times, and made signs of friendship,
but he seemed to be
afraid of me, and would look upwards and then fall
flat on the ground
and kiss it: this he repeated as often as I made
any sign or token
of friendship to him.
"When we had
got near the harbor he made a sign for me to sit down
upon a rock, which
I did. He then left me and went, as I supposed, to
talk to the people
at the water concerning me; but I had not sat long
before I saw a
vessel coming round the point into the harbor.
"They soon
came on shore in the boat. I went down to them and made my
case known and when
the boat returned on board they took me with them.
It was a Dutch snow
bound from China to Batavia. After they
had
wooded and watered
they set sail for Batavia:--being out about three
weeks we arrived
there: I tarried on board her about three weeks
longer, and then
got on board a Spanish ship which was from Rio de la
Plate bound to
Spain, but by stress of weather was obliged to put into
this port. After
the vessel had repaired we sailed for Spain. When we
made the Cape of
Good Hope we fell in with two British cruisers of
twenty guns each,
who engaged us and did the vessel considerable
damage, but at
length we beat them off, and then run for the coast of
Brazil, where we
arrived safe, and began to work at repairing our
ship, but upon
examination she was found to be not fit to proceed on
her voyage. She was
therefore condemned. I then left her and got on
board a Portuguese
snow bound up to St. Helena, and we arrived safe at
that place.
"I then went
on shore and quitted her and engaged in the garrison
there to do duty as
a soldier for my provisions till some ship should
arrive there bound
for England. After serving there a month I entered
on board a ship
called the Stormont, but orders were soon after
received that no
Indiaman should sail without convoy; and we lay here
six months, during
which time the Captain died.
"While I was
in St. Helena the vessel in which I came out from England
arrived here,
homeward bound; she being on the return from her second
voyage since I came
from England. And now I made known my case to
Captain Kerr, who
readily took me on board the Princess Royal, and
used me kindly and
those of my old ship-mates on board were glad to
see me again.
Captain Kerr on first seeing me asked me if I was not
afraid to let him
know who I was, and endeavored to frighten me; yet
his conduct towards
me was humane and kind.
"It had been
very sickly on board the Princess Royal, and the greater
part of the hands
who came out of England in her had died, and she was
now manned chiefly
with lascars. Among those who had died was the
boatswain, and
boatswain's mate, and Captain Kerr made me boatswain of
the ship, in which
office I continued until we arrived in London, and
it protected me
from being impressed upon our arrival in England.
"We sailed
from St. Helena about the first of November, 1781, under
convoy of the
Experiment of fifty guns, commanded by Captain Henry,
and the Shark sloop
of war of 18 guns, and we arrived in London about
the first of March,
1782, it having been about two years and a half
from the time I had
left it.
"In about a
fortnight after our arrival in London I entered on board
the King George, a
store-ship bound to Antigua, and after four weeks
passage arrived
there.
"The second
night after we came to anchor in Antigua I took the ship's
boat and escaped in
her to Montserrat (in the West Indies) which place
had but just before
been taken by the French.
"Here I did
not meet with the treatment which I expected; for on my
arrival at
Montserrat I was immediately taken up and put in prison,
where I continued
twenty-four hours, and my boat taken from me. I was
then sent to
Guadaloupe, and examined by the Governor. I made known my
case to him, by
acquainting him with the misfortunes I had gone
through in my
captivity, and in making my escape. He
seemed to
commiserate me,
gave me ten dollars for the boat that I escaped in,
and provided a
passage for me on board a French brigantine that was
bound from
Gaudaloupe to Philadelphia.
"The vessel
sailed in a few days, and now my prospects were favorable,
but my misfortunes
were not to end here, for after being out
twenty-one days we
fell in with the Anphitrite and Amphene, two
British cruizers,
off the Capes of Delaware, by which we were taken,
carried in to New
York and put on board the Jersey prison ship. After
being on board
about a week a cartel was fitted out for France, and I
was sent on board
as a French prisoner. The cartel was ordered for
St. Maloes, and
after a passage of thirty-two days we arrived safe at
that place.
"Finding no
American vessel at St. Male's, I went to the Commandant,
and procured a pass
to go by land to Port l'Orient. On my arrival
there I found three
American privateers belonging to Beverley in the
Massachusetts. I
was much elated at seeing so many of my countrymen,
some of whom I was
well acquainted with. I immediately entered on
board the
Buccaneer, Captain Pheirson. We sailed on a cruise, and
after being out
eighteen days we returned to L'Orient with six
prizes. Three days
after our arrival in port we heard the joyful news
of peace; on which
the privateer was dismantled, the people
discharged, and
Captain P sailed on a merchant voyage to Norway.
"I then
entered on board a brig bound to Lisbon (Captain Ellenwood of
Beverley) and
arrived at Lisbon in eight days. We took in a cargo of
salt, and sailed
for Beverley, where we arrived the ninth of May,
1783. Being now
only fifteen miles from home, I immediately set out
for Cape Ann, went
to my father's house, and had an agreeable meeting
with my friends,
after an absence of almost six years.
"John
Blatchford
"New London,
May 10th, 1788.
"N. B. Those
who are acquainted with the narrator will not scruple to
give full credence
to the foregoing account, and others may satisfy
themselves by
conversing with him. The scars he carries are a proof of
his narrative, and
a gentleman of New London who was several months
with him, was
acquainted with part of his sufferings, though it was
out of his power to
relieve him. He is a poor man with a wife and two
children. His
employment is fishing and coasting. _Editor_."
Our readers may be
interested to know what became of John Blatchford,
who wrote, or
dictated, the narrative we have given, in the year
1788. He was, at
that time, a married man. He had married a young
woman named Ann
Grover. He entered the merchant marine, and died at
Port au Prince
about the year 1794, when nearly thirty-three years of
age. Thus early
closed the career of a brave man, who had experienced
much hardship, and
had suffered greatly from man's inhumanity to man,
and who is, as far
as we know, the only American prisoner sent to the
East Indies who
ever returned to tell the story of the barbarities
inflicted upon him.
CHAPTER XVII
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
AND OTHERS ON THE SUBJECT OF AMERICAN PRISONERS
When Benjamin
Franklin and Silas Deane were in Paris they wrote the
following letter to
Lord Stormont, the English Ambassador to France.
Paris, April 2nd,
1777.
My Lord:--
We did ourselves
the honor of writing some time since to your Lordship
on the subject of
exchanging prisoners: you did not condescend to give
us any answer, and
therefore we expect none to this. We, however, take
the liberty of
sending you copies of certain depositions which we
shall transmit to
Congress, whereby it will be known to your Court,
that the United
States are not unacquainted with the barbarous
treatment their
people receive when they have the misfortune to be
your prisoners here
in Europe, and that if your conduct towards us is
not altered, it is
not unlikely that severe reprisals may be thought
justifiable from a
necessity of putting some check to such abominable
practices. For the
sake of humanity it is to be wished that men would
endeavor to
alleviate the unavoidable miseries attending a state of
war. It has been
said that among the civilized nations of Europe the
ancient horrors of
that state are much diminished; but the compelling
men by chains,
stripes, and famine to fight against their friends and
relatives, is a new
mode of barbarity, which your nation alone has the
honor of inventing,
and the sending American prisoners of war to
Africa and Asia,
remote from all probability of exchange, and where
they can scarce
hope ever to hear from their families, even if the
unwholesomeness of
the climate does not put a speedy end to their
lives, is a manner
of treating captives that you can justify by no
other precedent or
custom except that of the black savages of
Guinea. We are your
Lordship's most obedient, humble servants,
Benjamin Franklin,
Silas Deane.
The reply to this
letter was laconic.
"The King's
Ambassador recognizes no letters from Rebels, except when
they come to ask
mercy."
Inclosed in the
letter from our representatives were the following
depositions.
THE DEPOSITION OF
ELIPHALET DOWNER
Eliphalet Downer,
Surgeon, taken in the Yankee privateer, testifies
that after he was
made prisoner by Captains Ross and Hodge, who took
advantage of the
generous conduct of Captain Johnson of the Yankee to
them his prisoners,
and of the confidence he placed in them in
consequence of that
conduct and their assurances; he and his
countrymen were
closely confined, yet assured that on their arrival in
port they should be
set at liberty, and these assurances were repeated
in the most solemn
manner, instead of which they were, on their
approach to land,
in the hot weather of August, shut up in a small
cabin; the windows
of which were spiked down and no air admitted,
insomuch that they
were all in danger of suffocation from the
excessive heat.
Three or four days
after their arrival in the river Thames they were
relieved from this
situation in the middle of the night, hurried on
board a tender and
sent down to Sheerness, where the deponent was put
into the Ardent,
and there falling sick of a violent fever in
consequence of such
treatment, and languishing in that situation for
some time, he was
removed, still sick, to the Mars, and
notwithstanding
repeated petitions to be suffered to be sent to prison
on shore, he was
detained until having the appearance of a
mortification in
his legs, he was sent to Haslar hospital, from whence
after recovering
his health, he had the good fortune to make his
escape.
While on board
those ships and in the hospital he was informed and
believes that many
of his countrymen, after experiencing even worse
treatment than he,
were sent to the East Indies, and many of those
taken at Quebec
were sent to the coast of Africa, as soldiers.
THE DEPOSITION OF
CAPTAIN SETH CLARK OF NEWBURY PORT IN THE STATE OF
MASSACHUSETTS BAY
IN AMERICA
"This deponent
saith that on his return from Cape Nichola Mole to
Newbury Port, he
was taken on the 17th of September last by an armed
schooner in his
British Majesty's service, ---- Coats, Esquire,
Commander, and
carried down to Jamaica, on his arrival at which place
he was sent on
board the Squirrel, another armed vessel, ---- Douglas,
Esquire, Commander,
where, although master and half owner of the
vessel in which he
was taken, he was returned as a common sailor
before the mast,
and in that situation sailed for England in the month
of November, on the
twenty-fifth of which month they took a schooner
from Port a Pie to
Charlestown, S. C., to which place she belonged,
when the owner, Mr.
Burt, and the master, Mr. Bean, were brought on
board. On the latter's denying he had any ship
papers Captain Douglas
ordered him to be
stripped and tied up and then whipped with a wire
cat of nine tails
that drew blood every stroke and then on his saying
that he had thrown
his papers overboard he was untied and ordered to
his duty as a
common sailor, with no place for himself or his people
to lay on but the
decks. On their arrival at Spithead, the
deponent
was removed to the
Monarch, and there ordered to do duty as a
fore-mast-man, and
on his refusing on account of inability to do it,
he was threatened
by the Lieutenant, a Mr. Stoney, that if he spoke
one word to the
contrary he should be brought to the gangway, and
there severely
flogged.
"After this he
was again removed and put on board the Bar-fleur, where
he remained until
the tenth of February. On board this ship the
deponent saw
several American prisoners, who were closely confined and
ironed, with only
four men's allowance to six. These
prisoners and
others informed
this deponent that a number of American prisoners had
been taken out of
the ship and sent to the East Indies and the coast
of Africa, which he
has told would have been his fate, had he arrived
sooner.
"This deponent
further saith, That in Haslar hospital, to which place
on account of
sickness he was removed from the Bar-fleur, he saw a
Captain Chase of
Providence, New England, who told him he had been
taken in a sloop of
which he was half owner and master, on his passage
from Providence to
South Carolina, by an English transport, and turned
over to a ship of
war, where he was confined in irons thirteen weeks,
insulted, beat, and
abused by the petty officers and common sailors,
and on being
released from irons was ordered to do duty as a foremost
man until his
arrival in England, when being dangerously ill he was
sent to said
hospital."
Paris March 30th.
1777.
Benjamin Franklin,
in a letter written in 1780, to a Mr. Hartley, an
English gentleman
who was opposed to the war, said that Congress had
investigated the
cruelties perpetrated by the English upon their
defenceless
prisoners, and had instructed him to prepare a _school
book_ for the use
of American children, to be illustrated by
thirty-five good
engravings, each to picture some scene of horror,
some enormity of
suffering, such as should indelibly impress upon the
minds of the school
children a dread of British rule, and a hatred of
British malice and
wickedness!
The old philosopher
did not accomplish this task: had he done so it is
improbable that we
would have so long remained in ignorance of some of
the facts which we
are now endeavoring to collect. It will be pleasant
to glance, for a
moment, on the other side the subject. It is well
known that there
was a large party in England, who, like Benjamin
Franklin's
correspondent, were opposed to the war; men of humanity,
fair-minded enough
to sympathize with the struggles of an oppressed
people, of the same
blood as themselves.
"The Prisoners
of 1776, A Relic of the Revolution," is a little book
edited by the Rev.
R. Livesey, and published in Boston, in 1854. The
facts in this
volume were complied from the journal of Charles Herbert
of Newburyport,
Mass. This young man was taken prisoner in December,
1776. He was a
sailor on board the brigantine Dolton. He and his
companions were
confined in the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth, England.
Herbert, who was in
his nineteenth year, was a prisoner more than two
years. He managed
to keep a journal during his captivity, and has left
us an account of
his treatment by the English which is a pleasant
relief in its
contrast to the dark pictures that we have drawn of the
wretchedness of
American prisoners elsewhere. A collection of upwards
of $30,000 was
taken up in England for the relief of our prisoners
confined in English
jails.
Herbert secreted
his journal in a chest which had a false bottom. It
is too long to give
in its entirety, but we have made a few extracts
which will describe
the treatment the men received in England, where
all that was done
was open to public inspection, and where no such
inhuman monsters as
Cunningham were suffered to work their evil will
upon their victims.
"Dec. 24th,
1776. We were taken by the Reasonable, man-of-war of 64
guns. I put on two
shirts, pair of drawers and breeches, and trousers
over them, two or
three jackets, and a pair of new shoes, and then
filled my bosom and
pockets as full as I could carry.
Nothing but a
few old rags and
twelve old blankets were sent to us. Ordered down to
the cable tier.
Almost suffocated. Nothing but the bare cable to lie
on, and that very
uneven.
"Jan. 15,
1777. We hear that the British forces have taken Fort
Washington with a
loss of 800."
After several
changes Herbert was put on board the Tarbay, a ship of
74 guns, and
confined between decks, with not room for all to lie down
at once.
"Very cold.
Have to lie on a wet deck without blankets. Some obliged
to 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-five
nights without any,
all the time since we were taken. * * *
"We are told
that the Captain of this ship, whose name is Royer, gave
us these clothes
and beds out of his own pocket."
On the twelfth of
April he was carried on shore to the hospital, where
his daily allowance
was a pound of beef, a pound of potatoes, and
three pints of
beer.
On the 7th of May
he writes: "I now have a pound of bread, half a
pound of mutton and
a quart of beer daily. The doctor is very
kind. Three of our
company have died."
On the fifth of
June he was committed to the Old Mill Prison at
Plymouth. Many
entries in his journal record the escapes of his
companions.
"Captain Brown made his escape." "William Woodward of the
charming Sallie
escaped, etc., etc."
June 6th he
records: "Our allowance here in prison is a pound of beef,
a pound of greens,
and a quart of beer, and a little pot liquor that
the greens and beef
were boiled in, without any thickening." Still he
declares that he
has "a continued gnawing in his stomach." The people
of the neighborhood
came to see them daily when they were exercising
in the prison yard,
and sometimes gave them money and provisions
through the pickets
of the high fence that surrounded the prison
grounds. Herbert
had a mechanical turn, and made boxes which he sold
to these visitors,
procuring himself many comforts in this manner.
About ten prisoners
were brought in daily. They were constantly
digging their way
out and were sometimes recaptured, but a great
number made their
escape. On the twentieth of July he
records that
they begin to make
a breach in the prison wall. "Their intention is to
dig eighteen feet
underground to get into a field on the other side of
the wall.
"We put all
the dirt in our chests."
August third he
says: "There are 173 prisoners in the wards. On the
fifth thirty-two
escaped, but three were brought back. These were
confined in the
Black Hole forty days on half allowance, and obliged
to lie on the bare
floor.
"September
12th. We had a paper wherein was a melancholy account of
the barbarous
treatment of American prisoners, taken at Ticonderoga.
"Sept. 16th.
Today about twenty old countrymen petitioned the Board
for permission to
go on board His Majesty's ships.
"Jan. 7th.
1778. 289 prisoners here in Plymouth. In
Portsmouth there
are 140 prisoners.
Today the prison was smoked with charcoal and
brim-stone."
He records the gift
of clothes, blankets, and all sorts of
provisions. They
were allowed to wash at the pump in relays of
six. Tobacco and
everything necessary was freely given them.
"Jan. 27th.
The officers in a separate prison are allowed to burn
candles in the
evening until gun-fire, which is eight o'clock.
"28th. Today
some new washing troughs were brought up for us to wash
our clothes in; and
now we have plenty of clothes, soap, water, and
tubs to wash in. In
general we are tolerably clean.
"Feb. 1st.
Sunday. Last evening between 7 and 9 o'clock five of the
officers in a
separate prison, who had agreed with the sentry to let
them go, made their
escape and took two sentries with them. The five
officers were
Captain Henry Johnston, Captain Eleazar Johnston, Offin
Boardman, Samuel
Treadwell, and one Mr. Deal.
"Feb. 8th.
Sunday. We have the paper wherein is an account of a letter
from Dr. Franklin,
Dean, and Lee, to Lord North, and to the ministry,
putting them in
mind of the abuse which the prisoners have had from
time to time, and
giving them to know that it is in the power of the
Americans to make
ample retaliation. * * * We learn that
their answer
was that in America
there was an exchange."
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 do
once or twice a
week. They are Mr. Heath, and Mr. Sorry, the former a
Presbyterian
minister, in Dock, the latter a merchant in Plymouth.
They are the two
agents appointed by the Committee in London to supply
us with
necessaries. A smile from them seems like a smile from a
father. They tell
us that everything goes well on our side.
"April 7th.
Today the latter (Mr. Sorry) came to see us, and we
desired him, for
the future, to send us a four penny white loaf
instead of a
six-penny one to each mess, per day, for we have more
provision than many
of us want to eat, and any person can easily
conjecture that
prisoners, in our situation, who have suffered so much
for the want of
provisions would abhor such an act as to waste what we
have suffered so
much for the want of."
Herbert was
liberated at the end of two years.
Enough has been quoted
to prove the
humanity with which the prisoners at Plymouth were
treated. He gives a
valuable list of crews in Old Mill Prison,
Plymouth, during
the time of his incarceration, with the names of
captains, number
that escaped, those who died, and those who joined
the English.
Joined
NAMES OF SHIPS AND
CAPTAINS No. of British
Men
Escaped Died Ships
Brig Dolton, Capt.
Johnston 120 21
8 7
Sloop Charming
Sally, Capt. Brown. 52 6
7 16
Brig Fancy, Capt.
Lee 56 11
2 0
Brig Lexington,
Capt. Johnston 51 6
1 26
Schooner Warren,
Capt. Ravel 40 2
0 6
PARTS OF CREWS
TAKEN INTO PLYMOUTH
Brig Freedom, Capt.
Euston 11 3
1 0
Ship Reprisal,
Capt. Weeks 10 2
0 3
Sloop Hawk 6 0
0 0
Schooner Hawk,
Capt. Hibbert 6 0
0 0
Schooner Black
Snake, Capt. Lucran 3 1
0 0
Ship Oliver
Cromwell 7 1
0 4
Letter of Marque
Janey, Capt. Rollo 2 1
0 0
Brig Cabot 3 0
0 0
True Blue, Capt.
Furlong 1 0
0 0
Ranger 1 0
0 0
Sloop Lucretia 2 0
0 0
Musquito
Tender 1 0
0 1
Schooner, Capt.
Burnell 2 1
0 1
Sturdy Beggar 3
0 0 0
Revenge, Capt
Cunningham 3 0
0 0
Total 380 55
19 62
Remained in Prison until exchanged, 244
Before we leave the
subject of Plymouth we must record the fact that
some time in the
year 1779 a prize was brought into the harbor
captured from the
French with 80 French prisoners. The English crew
put in charge of
the prize procured liquor, and, in company of some of
the loose women of
the town, went below to make a night of it. In the
dead of night the
Frenchmen seized the ship, secured the hatches, cut
the cable, took her
out of port, homeward bound, and escaped.
A writer in the
London _Gazette_ in a letter to the Lord Mayor,
dated August 6th,
1776, says: "I was last week on board the American
privateer called
the Yankee, commanded by Captain Johnson, and lately
brought into this
port by Captain Ross, who commanded one of the West
India sugar ships,
taken by the privateer in July last: and as an
Englishman I
earnestly wish your Lordship, who is so happily placed at
the head of this
great city (justly famed for its great humanity even
to its enemies),
would be pleased to go likewise, or send proper
persons, to see the
truly shocking and I may say barbarous and
miserable condition
of the unfortunate American prisoners, who,
however criminal
they may be thought to have been, are deserving of
pity, and entitled
to common humanity.
"They are
twenty-five in number, and all inhumanly shut close down,
like wild beasts,
in a small stinking apartment, in the hold of a
sloop, about
seventy tons burden, without a breath of air, in this
sultry season, but
what they receive from a small grating overhead,
the openings in
which are not more than two inches square in any part,
and through which
the sun beats intensely hot all day, only two or
three being
permitted to come on deck at a time; and then they are
exposed in the open
sun, which is reflected from the decks like a
burning glass.
"I do not at
all exaggerate, my lord, I speak the truth, and the
resemblance that
this barbarity bears to the memorable Black Hole at
Calcutta, as a
gentleman present on Saturday observed, strikes every
eye at the sight.
All England ought to know that the same game is now
acting upon the
Thames on board this privateer, that all the world
cried out against,
and shuddered at the mention of in India, some
years ago, as
practised on Captain Hollowell and other of the King's
good subjects. The
putrid steams issuing from the hold are so hot and
offensive that one
cannot, without the utmost danger, breathe over it,
and I should not be
at all surprised if it should cause a plague to
spread.
"The miserable
wretches below look like persons in a hot bath,
panting, sweating,
and fainting, for want of air; and the surgeon
declares that they
must all soon perish in this situation, especially
as they are almost
all in a sickly state from bilious disorders.
"The captain and
surgeon, it is true, have the liberty of the cabin
(if it deserves the
name of a cabin), and make no complaints on their
own account. They
are both sensible and well behaved young men, and
can give a very
good account of themselves, having no signs of fear,
and being supported
by a consciousness of the justice of their cause.
"They are men
of character, of good families in New England, and
highly respected in
their different occupations; but being stripped of
their all by the
burning of towns, and other destructive measures of
the present
unnatural war, were forced to take the disagreeable method
of making reprisals
to maintain themselves and their children rather
than starve. * * * English prisoners taken by the
Americans have been
treated with the most
remarkable tenderness and generosity, as numbers
who are safely
returned to England most freely confess, to the honor
of our brethern in
the colonies, and it is a fact, which can be well
attested in London,
that this very surgeon on board the privateer,
after the battle of
Lexington, April 19th, 1775, for many days
voluntarily and
generously without fee or reward employed himself in
dressing the King's
wounded soldiers, who but an hour before would
have shot him if
they could have come at him, and in making a
collection for
their refreshment, of wine, linen, money, etc., in the
town where he
lived. * * * The capture of the privateer was, solely
owing to the
ill-judged lenity and brotherly kindness of Captain
Johnson, who not
considering his English prisoners in the same light
that he would
French or Spanish, put them under no sort of
confinement, but
permitted them to walk the decks as freely as his own
people at all
times. Taking advantage of this indulgence the prisoners
one day watched
their opportunity when most of the privateer's people
were below, and
asleep, shut down the hatches, and making all fast,
had immediate
possession of the vessel without using any force."
What the effect of
this generous letter was we have no means of
discovering. It
displays the sentiments of a large party in England,
who bitterly
condemned the "unnatural war against the Colonies."
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ADVENTURES OF
ANDREW SHERBURNE
While we are on the
subject of the treatment of American prisoners in
England, which forms
a most grateful contrast to that which they
received in New
York, Philadelphia, and other parts of America, we
will give an
abstract of the adventures of another young man who was
confined in the Old
Mill Prison at Plymouth, England. This young man
was named Andrew
Sherburne. He was born at Rye, New Hampshire, on the
3oth of September,
1765.
He first served on
the continental ship of war, Ranger, which shipped
a crew at
Portsmouth, N. H. His father consented that he should go
with her, and his
two half uncles, Timothy and James Weymouth, were on
board. There were
about forty boys in the crew. Andrew was
then in
his fourteenth
year, and was employed as waiter to the boatswain. The
vessel sailed in
the month of June, 1779. She took ten prizes and
sailed for home,
where she arrived in August, 1779. Next
year she
sailed again on
another cruise, but was taken prisoner by the British
at Charleston, S.
C., on the 12th of May, 1780.
"Our
officers," says Sherburne, "were paroled and allowed to retain
their waiters. We
were for several days entirely destitute of
provisions except
muscles, which we gathered from the muscle beds. I
was at this time
waiter to Captain Pierce Powers, master's mate of the
Ranger. He treated
me with the kindness of a father."
"At this
time," he continues, "Captain Simpson and the other officers
procured a small
vessel which was employed as a cartel, to transport
the officers, their
boys and baggage, agreeably to the terms of
capitulation, to
Newport, R. I. It being difficult to obtain suitable
casks for water
they procured such as they could. These
proved to be
foul, and after we
got to sea our water became filthy and extremely
noxious. Very few
if any on board escaped an attack of the diarrhoea."
After his return he
next shipped under Captain Wilds on the Greyhound,
from Portsmouth, N.
H., and at last, after many adventures, was taken
prisoner by
Newfoundlanders, off Newfoundland. He was then put on
board the Fairy, a
British sloop of war, commanded by Captain Yeo, "a
complete
tyrant" "Wilds and myself," he continues, "were called to
the
quarter deck, and
after having been asked a few questions by Captain
Yeo, he turned to
his officers and said: 'They are a couple of fine
lads for his
Majesty's service. Mr. Gray, see that they do their
duty.'"
When the sloop
arrived in England the boys complained that they were
prisoners of war,
in consequence of which they were sent to the Old
Mill Prison at
Plymouth, accused of "rebellion, piracy, and high
treason."
Here they found
acquaintances from Portsmouth, N. H. The other
prisoners were very
kind to young Sherburne, gave him clothing and
sent him to a
school which was kept in the prison. Ship building and
other arts were
carried on in this place, and he learned navigation,
which was of great
service to him in after life.
The fare, he
declared, was tolerably good, but there was not enough of
it. He amused
himself by making little toy ships. He became ill and
delirious, but
recovered in time to be sent to America when a general
exchange of
prisoners was effected in 1781. The rest
of his
adventures has
nothing to do with prisons, in England, and shall not
now be detailed.
Although the
accounts of the English prisons left by Herbert,
Sherburne and
others are so favorable, yet it seems that, after the
year 1780, there
was some cause of complaint even there. We will quote
a passage from the
British Annual Register to prove this
statement. This
passage we take from the Register for 1781, page 152.
"A petition
was presented to the House the same day (June 20th) by
Mr. Fox, from the
American prisoners in Mill Prison, Plymouth, setting
forth that they
were treated with less humanity than the French and
Spanish, though by
reason that they had no Agent established in this
country for their
protection, they were entitled to expect a larger
share of indulgence
than others. They had not a sufficient allowance
of _bread_, and
were very scantily furnished with clothing.
"A similar
petition was presented to the House of Peers by the Duke of
Richmond, and these
petitions occasioned considerable debate in both
Houses. Several motions were grounded on these
petitions, but to
those proposed by
the Lords and gentlemen in the opposition, were
determined in the
negative, and others to _exculpate_ the
Government in this
business were resolved in the affirmative. It
appeared upon
inquiry, that the American prisoners were allowed a half
pound of bread less
per day than the French and Spanish prisoners. But
the petitions of
the Americans produced no alterations in their favor,
and the conduct of
the Administration was equally unpolitic and
illiberal. The
additional allowance, which was solicited on behalf of
the prisoners,
could be no object, either to Government or to the
Nation, and it was
certainly unwise, by treating American prisoners
worse than those of
France or Spain, to increase the fatal animosity
which had unhappily
taken place between the mother country and the
Colonies, and this,
too, at a period when the subjugation of the
latter had become
hopeless."
CHAPTER XIX
MORE ABOUT THE
ENGLISH PRISONS--MEMOIR OF ELI BICKFORD--CAPTAIN
FANNING
Eli Bickford, who
was born on the 29th of September, 1754, in the town
of Durham, N. H.,
and enlisted on a privateer, was taken prisoner by
the British,
confined at first on the Old Jersey, and afterwards sent
to England with
many others, in a vessel commanded by Captain
Smallcorn, whom he
called "a sample of the smallest corn he had ever
met." While on board this vessel he was taken down
with the
smallpox. No beds
or bedding were provided for the prisoners and a
plank on deck was
his only pillow. He and his fellow
sufferers were
treated with great
severity, and insulted at every turn. When they
reached England
they were sent to prison, where he remained in close
confinement for
four years and six months.
Finding a piece of
a door hinge, he and some of the others endeavored
to make their
escape by digging a passage under the walls. A report of
their proceedings
reached the jailer, but, secure in the strength of
the walls he did
not believe it. This jailor would frequently jest
with Bickford on
the subject, asking him when he intended to make his
escape. His answers
were so truthful and accurate that they served to
blind the jailor
still further. One morning as this official entered
the prison he said:
"Well, Bickford, how soon will you be ready to go
out?"
"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 found
themselves under an
adjoining house. They proceeded to take up the
brick floor,
unlocked the door and passed out, without disturbing the
inmates, who were
all asleep. Unable to escape they concealed
themselves for
awhile, and then tamely gave themselves up. Such a
vigilant watch was
kept upon the house after they were missed from the
prison, that they
had no other choice. So they made a contract with a
man who was to
return them to the prison, and then give them half of
the reward of forty
shillings which was offered for their re-capture.
So successful was
this expedient that it was often put into operation
when they needed
money.
As a punishment for
endeavoring to escape they were confined in the
Black Hole for a
week on bread and water.
Bickford describes
the prison regulations for preserving order which
were made and
carried out by the prisoners themselves. If a difficulty
arose between two
of them it was settled in the following manner. The
prisoners formed a
circle in the centre of which the disputants took
their stand, and
exchanged a few rounds of well-directed blows, after
which they shook
hands, and were better friends than before.
Bickford was not
released until peace was declared. He
then returned
to his family, who
had long thought him dead. It was on Sunday morning
that he reached his
native town. As he passed the meeting house he was
recognized, and the
whole congregation ran out to see and greet him.
He had but seven
dollars as his whole capital when he married. He
moved to Vermont,
where he farmed a small place, and succeeded in
making a
comfortable livelihood. He attained the great age of 101, and
was one of the last
surviving prisoners of the Revolution.
THE ADVENTURES OF A
NAVAL OFFICER
In the year 1806 a
little book with this title was published in New
York, by Captain
Nathaniel Fanning. It was dedicated to John
Jackson,
Esquire, the man
who did so much to interest the public in the
preservation and
interment of the remains of the martyrs of the
prisonships in the
Wallabout.
Fanning was born in
Connecticut, in the year 1755. On the
26th of
May, 1778, he went
on board the brig Angelica, commanded by Captain
William Dennis,
which was about to sail on a six months cruise.
There
were 98 men and
boys in the crew, and Fanning was prize-master on
board the
privateer. She was captured by the Andromeda, a frigate of
28 guns, five days
from Philadelphia, with General Howe on board on
his way back to
England.
All the prisoners
were paraded on deck and asked if they were willing
to engage in his
British Majesty's service. Nearly all answered in the
negative. They were
then told that they were "a set of rebels," and
that it was more
than probable that they would all be hung at
Portsmouth.
Their baggage was
then taken away, and they were confined in the hold
of the ship. Their
clothes were stolen by the sailors, and a frock and
cheap trousers
dealt out to each man in their place.
The heat was
intolerable in the hold, although they went naked. In
this condition they
plotted to seize the vessel, and procured some
weapons through the
agency of their surgeon. Spencer, the captain's
clerk, betrayed
them to the captain of the Andromeda, and, after that,
the hatches were
barred down, and they began to think that they would
all die of
suffocation. The sentence pronounced
upon them was that
they should be allowed
only half a pint of water a day for each man,
and barely food
enough to sustain life.
Their condition
would have been terrible, but, fortunately for them,
they were lodged
upon the water casks, over which was constructed a
temporary
deck. By boring holes in the planks they
managed, by means
of a proof glass,
to obtain all the water they needed.
Between them and
the general's store room was nothing but a partition
of plank. They went
to work to make an aperture through which a man
could pass into
this store room. A young man named Howard from Rhode
Island was their
instigator in all these operations. They discovered
that one of the
shifting boards abaft the pump room was loose, and
that they could
ship and unship it as they pleased. When it was
unshipped there was
just room for a man to crawl into the store
room. "Howard
first went in," writes Captain Fanning, "and presently
desired me to hand
him a mug or can with a proof glass. A few minutes
after he handed me
back the same full, saying 'My friends, as good
Madeira wine as
ever was drank at the table of an Emperor!'
"I took it
from his hands and drank about half a pint.
"Thus we lived
like hearty fellows, taking care every night to secure
provisions, dried
fruit, and wines for the day following * * * and all
without our
enemies' knowledge."
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.
The
prisoners were sent
to Hazel hospital, to be examined by the
Commissioners of
the Admiralty, and then marched to Forton prison,
where they were
committed under the charges of piracy and high
treason. This prison was about two miles from
Portsmouth harbor, and
consisted of two
commodious buildings, with a yard between them large
enough to parade a
guard of 100 men, which was the number required to
maintain law and
order at the station.
They also had a
spacious lot of about three quarters of an acre in
extent, adjoining
the houses, in which they took their daily
exercise. In the
middle of this lot was a shed with seats. It was open
on all sides. The
lot was surrounded by a wall of iron pickets, eight
feet in height. The
agent for American prisoners was nicknamed by them
"the old
crab." He was very old and ugly.
Only three-fourths
of the usual allowance to prisoners of war was
dealt out to them,
and they seem to have fared much worse than the
inmates of the Old
Mill Prison at Plymouth.
Captain Fanning
declares that they were half starved, and would
sometimes beg bones
from the people who came to look at them. When
they obtained bones
they would dig out the marrow, and devour it. The
guard was cruel and
spiteful. One day they heated some pokers red hot
and began to burn
the prisoners' shirts that were hung up to
dry. These men
begged the guard, in a very civil manner, not to burn
all their shirts,
as they had only one apiece. This
remonstrance
producing no effect
they then ran to the pickets and snatched away
their shirts. At
this the officer on command ordered a sentinel to
fire on them. This
he did, killing one prisoner, and wounding
several. There were
three hundred American prisoners in the yard at
this time.
These prisons
appear to have been very imperfectly guarded, and the
regular occupation
of the captives, whenever their guards were asleep
or absent, was to
make excavations for the purpose of escaping. A
great many regained
their freedom in this manner, though some were
occasionally
brought back and punished by being shut up for forty days
in the Black Hole
on bread and water. Some, less fortunate, remained
three or four years
in the prison.
There was always
digging going on in some part of the prison and as
soon as one hole
was discovered and plastered up, another would be
begun. For a long
time they concealed the dirt that they took out of
these excavations
in an old stack of disused chimneys. The
hours for
performing the work
were between eleven and three o'clock at
night. Early in the
morning they ceased from their labors, concealing
the hole they had
made by pasting white paper over it.
There was a school
kept constantly in the prison, where many of them
had the first
opportunity that had ever been granted them of receiving
an education. Many learned to read and write, and became
proficient
in French.
At one time there
were 367 officers confined in this place. In the
course of twelve
months 138 of them escaped and got safely to
France. While some
of the men were digging at night, others would be
dancing to drown
the noise. They had several violins, and seem to have
been a reckless and
jovial set.
The officers bunked
on the second floor over the guard room of the
English officers.
At times they would make so much noise that the
guard would rush up
the stairs, only to find all lights out and every
man _asleep and
snoring_ in his hammock. They would relieve their
feelings by a
volley of abusive language and go down stairs again,
when instantly the
whole company would be on their feet, the violins
would strike up,
and the fun be more fast and furious than ever. These
rushes of the guard
would sometimes be repeated several times a night,
when they would
always find the prisoners in their hammocks. Each
hammock had what
was called a "king's rug," a straw bed, and pillow.
At one time several
men were suddenly taken sick, with strong symptoms
of poison. They
were removed to the hospital, and for a time, there
was great
alarm. The prisoners feared that
"the same game was playing
here as had been
done on the Old Jersey, where we had heard that
thousands of our
countrymen had died." The poison employed in this
instance was glass
pounded fine and cooked with their bread.
An English
clergyman named Wren sympathized strongly with the
prisoners and
assisted them to escape. He lived at
Gosport, and if
any of the captives
were so fortunate as to dig themselves out and
succeed in reaching
his house, they were safe. This good man begged
money and food for
"his children," as he called them.
On the second of
June, 1779, 120 of them were exchanged. There were
then 600 confined
in that prison. On the 6th of June they sailed for
Nantes in France.
The French treated them with great kindness, made up
a purse for them,
and gave them decent clothing.
Fanning next went
to L'Orient, and there met John Paul Jones, who
invited him to go
on board the Bon Homme Richard as a midshipman. They
sailed on the 14th
of August on the memorable expedition to the
British Channel.
After being with
Jones for some time Fanning, on the 23rd of March,
1781, sailed for
home in a privateer from Morlaix, France. This
privateer was captured
by the English frigate, Aurora.
"Captain
Anthon and myself and crew," writes Mr. Fanning, "were all
ordered to a prison
at about two miles from Falmouth. The very
dirtiest and most
loathsome building I ever saw. Swarms of lice,
remarkably fat and
full grown; bed bugs, and fleas. I believe the
former were of
Dutch extraction, as there were confined here a number
of Dutch prisoners
of war, and such a company of dirty fellows I never
saw before or
since."
Yet these same poor
fellows ceded to Captain Anthon and Mr. Fanning a
corner of the
prison for their private use. This they managed to get
thoroughly
cleansed, screened themselves off with some sheets,
provided themselves
with large swinging cots, and were tolerably
comfortable. They
were paroled and allowed full liberty within bounds,
which were a mile
and a half from the prison. In about six weeks
Fanning was again
exchanged, and went to Cherbourg in France, where he
met Captain Manly,
who had just escaped from the Mill prison after
three years
confinment.
CHAPTER XX
SOME SOUTHERN NAVAL
PRISONERS
Very little is
known of the State navies of the south during the
Revolution. Each
State had her own small navy, and many were the
interesting
adventures, some successful, and others unfortunate, that
the hardy sailors
encountered. The story of each one of these little
vessels would be as
interesting as a romance, but we are here only
concerned with the
meagre accounts that have reached us of the
sufferings of some
of the crews of the privateers who were so unlucky
as to fall into the
hands of the enemy.
In the infant navy
of Virginia were many small, extremely fleet
vessels. The names
of some of the Virginia ships, built at Gosport,
Fredericksburg, and
other Virginia towns, were the Tartar, Oxford,
Thetis, Virginia,
Industry, Cormorant, Loyalist (which appears to have
been captured from
the British), Pocohontas, Dragon, Washington,
Tempest, Defiance,
Oliver Cromwell, Renown, Apollo, and the Marquis
Lafayette. Virginia
also owned a prisonship called the Gloucester.
Brigs and
brigantines owned by the State were called the Raleigh,
Jefferson, Sallie
Norton, Northampton, Hampton, Greyhound, Dolphin,
Liberty, Mosquito,
Rochester, Willing Lass, Wilkes, American Fabius,
Morning Star, and
Mars. Schooners were the Adventure,
Hornet,
Speedwell, Lewis,
Nicholson, Experiment, Harrison, Mayflower, Revenge,
Peace and Plenty,
Patriot, Liberty, and the Betsy. Sloops were the
Virginia,
Rattlesnake, Scorpion, Congress, Liberty, Eminence,
Game-Cock, and the
American Congress. Some of the galleys were the
Accomac, Diligence,
Hero, Gloucester, Safeguard, Manly, Henry,
Norfolk, Revenge,
Caswell, Protector, Washington, Page, Lewis, Dragon,
and Dasher. There were two armed pilot boats named Molly
and
Fly. Barges were
the York and Richmond. The Oxford, Cormorant, and
Loyalist were
prizes. The two latter were taken from the English by
the French and sold
to Virginia.
What an interesting
book might be written about this little navy!
Nearly all were
destined to fall at last into the hands of the enemy;
their crews to
languish out the remainder of their days in foul
dungeons, where
famine and disease made short work of them. Little
remains to us now
except the names of these vessels.
The Virginia was
built at Gosport. The Dragon and some others were
built at
Fredericksburg. Many were built at Norfolk.
The Hermit was
early captured by the British. The gallant little
Mosquito was taken
by the Ariadne. Her crew was confined in a
loathsome jail at
Barbadoes. But her officers were sent to
England,
and confined in
Fortune jail at Gosport. They succeeded in escaping
and made their way
to France. The names of these officers were Captain
John Harris;
Lieutenant Chamberlayne; Midshipman Alexander Moore;
Alexander Dock,
Captain of Marines; and George Catlett, Lieutenant of
Marines.
The Raleigh was
captured by the British frigate Thames. Her crew was
so shamefully
maltreated that upon representations made to the Council
of State upon their
condition, it was recommended that by way of
retaliation the
crew of the Solebay, a sloop of war which had fallen
into the hands of
the Americans, should be visited with the like
severe
treatment. To what extent this was
carried out we cannot
discover.
The Scorpion was
taken by the British in the year 1781, a fatal year
for the navy of
Virginia.
In the year 1857 an
unsigned article on the subject of the Virginia
Navy was published
in the _Southern Literary Messenger_, which
goes on to say:
"But of all the sufferings in these troublous times
none endured such
horrors as did those Americans who were so
unfortunate as to
become prisoners of war to the British. They were
treated more as
felons than as honorable enemies. It can scarcely be
credited that an
enlightened people would thus have been so lost to
the common
instincts of humanity, as were they in their conduct
towards men of the
same blood, and speaking the same language with
themselves. True it
is they sometimes excused the cruelty of their
procedures by
avowing in many instances their prisoners were deserters
from the English
flag, and were to be dealt with accordingly. Be this
as it may, no
instance is on record where a Tory whom the Americans
had good cause to
regard as a traitor, was visited with the severities
which characterized
the treatment of the ordinary military captives,
on the part of the
English authorities. * * * The patriotic seamen of
the Virginia navy
were no exceptions to the rule when they fell into
the hands of the
more powerful lords of the ocean. They were carried
in numbers to
Bermuda, and to the West Indies, and cast into loathsome
and pestilential
prisons, from which a few sometimes managed to
escape, at the
peril of their lives. Respect of position and rank
found no favor in
the eyes of their ungenerous captors, and no appeal
could reach their
hearts except through the promises of bribes. Many
languished and died
in those places, away from country and friends,
whose fate was not
known until long after they had passed away. But it
was not altogether
abroad that they were so cruelly maltreated. The
record of their
sufferings in the prisons of the enemy, in our own
country, is left to
testify against these relentless persecutors.
"In New York
and Halifax many of the Virginian officers and seamen
were relieved of
their pains, alone by the hand of death; and in their
own State, at
Portsmouth, the like fate overtook many more, who had
endured horrors
rivalled only by the terrors of the Black Hole of
Calcutta. * * * The
reader will agree that we do not exaggerate when
he shall have seen
the case as given under oath by one who was in
every respect a
competent witness.
"It will be
remembered that, in another part of this narrative,
mention was made of
the loss in Lynhaven Bay of the galley Dasher, and
the capture of the
officers and the crew. Captain Willis Wilson was
her unfortunate
commander on that occasion. He and his men were
confined in the
Provost Jail at Portsmouth, Virginia, and after his
release he made
public the 'secrets' of that 'Prison House,' by the
following
deposition, which is copied from the original document.
"'The
deposition of Willis Wilson, being first sworn deposes and
sayeth: That about
the 23rd July last the deponent was taken a
prisoner of war;
was conducted to Portsmouth (Virginia) after having
been plundered of
all his clothing, etc., and there lodged with about
190 other
prisoners, in the Provost. This deponent
during twenty odd
days was a
spectator to the most savage cruelty with which the unhappy
prisoners were
treated by the English. The deponent has every reason
to believe there
was a premeditated scheme to infect all the prisoners
who had not been
infected with the smallpox. There were upwards of 100
prisoners who never
had the disorder, notwithstanding which negroes,
with the infection
upon them, were lodged under the same roof of the
Provost. Others
were sent in to attend upon the prisoners, with the
scabs of that
disorder upon them.
"'Some of the
prisoners soon caught the disorder, others were down
with the flux, and
some from fevers. From such a complication of
disorders 'twas
thought expedient to petition General O'Hara who was
then commanding
officer, for a removal of the sick, or those who were
not, as yet,
infected with the smallpox. Accordingly a petition was
sent by Dr. Smith who shortly returned with a verbal
answer, as he
said, from the
General. He said the General desired him to inform the
prisoners that the
_law of nations was annihilated_, that he had
nothing then to
bind them but bolts and bars, and they were to
continue where they
were, but that they were free agents to inoculate
if they chose.
"'About thirty
agreed with the same Smith to inoculate them at a
guinea a man; he
performed the operation, received his guinea from
many, and then left
them to shift for themselves, though he had agreed
to attend them
through the disorder. Many of them, as well as those
who took it in the
natural way, died. Colonel Gee, with many
respectable
characters, fell victims to the unrelenting cruelty of
O'Hara, who would
admit of no discrimination between the officers,
privates, negroes,
and felons; but promiscuously confined the whole in
one house. * * * They also suffered often from want of
water, and
such as they got
was very muddy and unfit to drink.
'"Willis
Wilson.
"'This day
came before me Captain Willis Wilson and made oath that the
above is true.
'"Samuel
Thorogood.'"
There is much of
great interest in this article on the Virginia Navy
which is not to our
present purpose. The writer goes on to
tell how,
on one occasion,
the ship Favorite, bearing a flag of truce, was
returning to
Virginia, with a number of Americans who had just been
liberated or
exchanged in Bermuda, when she was overhauled by a
British man-of-war,
and both her crew and passengers robbed of all
they had. The
British ships which committed this dastardly deed were
the Tiger, of 14
guns, and the schooner Surprise, of 10 guns.
Captain James
Barron, afterwards Commodore Barren, was the master
spirit of the
service in Virginia. One of the
Virginian vessels, very
appropriately named
the Victory, was commanded by him, and was never
defeated.
In 1781 Joseph Galloway
wrote a letter to Lord Howe in which he says:
"The rebel
navy has been in a great measure destroyed by the small
British force
remaining in America, and the privateers sent out from
New York. Their
navy, which consisted, at the time of your departure,
of about thirty
vessels, is now reduced to eight, and the number of
privateers fitted
out in New England amounting to an hundred and
upwards is now less
than forty."
CHAPTER XXI
EXTRACTS FROM
NEWSPAPERS--SOME OF THE PRISON SHIPS--CASE OF CAPTAIN
BIRDSALL
At the risk of
repetition of some facts that have already been given,
we must again refer
the reader to some extracts from the newspapers of
the day. In this
instance the truth can best be established by the
mouths of many
witnesses, and we do not hesitate to give the English
side whenever we
have been able to discover anything bearing on the
subject in the
so-called loyal periodicals of the time.
From Freeman's
_Journal,_ date of Jan. 19th, 1777, we take the
following:
"General Howe
has discharged all the privates who were prisoners in
New York. Half he
sent to the world of spirits for want of food: the
others he hath sent
to warn their countrymen of the danger of falling
into his hands, and
to convince them by ocular demonstration, that it
is infinitely
better to be slain in battle, than to be taken prisoner
by British brutes,
whose tender mercies are cruelties."
In the _Connecticut
Journal_ of Jan. 30th, 1777, is the
following:
"This account
of the sufferings of these unfortunate men was obtained
from the prisoners
themselves. As soon as they were taken
they were
robbed of all their
baggage; of whatever money they had, though it
were of paper; of
their silver shoe buckles and knee buckles, etc.;
and many were
stripped almost of their clothes. Especially those who
had good clothes
were stripped at once, being told that such were 'too
good for rebels.'
"Thus deprived
of their clothes and baggage, they were unable to shift
even their linen,
and were obliged to wear the same shirts for even
three or four
months together, whereby they became extremely nasty;
and this of itself
was sufficient to bring on them many mortal
diseases.
"After they
were taken they were in the first place put on board the
ships, and thrust
down into the hold, where not a breath of fresh air
could be obtained,
and they were nearly suffocated for want of air.
"Some who were
taken at Fort Washington were first in this manner
thrust down into
the holds of vessels in such numbers that even in the
cold season of
November they could scarcely bear any clothes on them,
being kept in a
constant sweat. Yet these same persons, after lying in
this situation
awhile, till the pores of their bodies were as
perfectly open as
possible, were of a sudden taken out and put into
some of the
churches of New York, without covering, or a spark of
fire, where they
suffered as much by the cold as they did by the
sweating stagnation
of the air in the other situation; and the
consequence was
that they took such colds as brought on the most fatal
diseases, and swept
them off almost beyond conception.
"Besides these
things they suffered severely for want of
provisions. The
commissioners pretended to allow a half a pound of
bread, and four
ounces of pork per day; but of this pittance they were
much cut short.
What was given them for three days was not enough for
one day and, in
some instances, they went for three days without a
single mouthful of
food of any kind. They were pinched to such an
extent that some on
board the ships would pick up and eat the salt
that happened to be
scattered there; others gathered up the bran which
the light horse
wasted, and eat it, mixed with dirt and filth as it
was.
"Nor was this
all, both the bread and pork which they did allow them
was extremely bad.
For the bread, some of it was made out of the bran
which they brought
over to feed their light horse, and the rest of it
was so muddy, and
the pork so damnified, being so soaked in bilge
water during the
transportation from Europe, that they were not fit to
be eaten by human
creatures, and when they were eaten were very
unwholesome. Such
bread and pork as they would not pretend to give to
their own
countrymen they gave to our poor sick dying prisoners.
"Nor were they
in this doleful condition allowed a sufficiency of
water. One would
have thought that water was so cheap and plentiful an
element, that they
would not have grudged them that. But there are, it
seems, no bounds to
their cruelty. The water allowed them was so
brackish, and
withal nasty, that they could not drink it until reduced
to extremity. Nor did they let them have a sufficiency of
even such
water as this.
"When winter
came on, our people suffered extremely for want of fire
and clothes to keep
them warm. They were confined in churches where
there were no
fireplaces that they could make fires, even if they had
wood. But wood was
only allowed them for cooking their pittance of
victuals; and for
that purpose very sparingly. They had none to keep
them warm even in
the extremest of weather, although they were almost
naked, and the few
clothes they had were their summer clothes. Nor had
they a single
blanket, nor any bedding, not even straw allowed them
until a little
before Christmas.
"At the time
those were taken on Long Island a considerable part of
them were sick of
the dysentery; and with this distemper on them were
first crowded on
board the ships, afterwards in the churches in New
York, three, four
or five hundred together, without any blankets, or
anything for even
the sick to lie upon, but the bare floors or
pavements.
"In this
situation that contagious distemper soon communicated from
the sick to the
well, who would probably have remained so, had they
not in this manner
been thrust in together without regard to sick or
well, or to the
sultry, unwholesome season, it being then the heat of
summer. Of this
distemper numbers died daily, and many others by their
confinement and the
sultry season contracted fevers and died of
them. During their
sickness, with these and other diseases, they had
no medicines,
nothing soothing or comfortable for sick people, and
were not so much as
visited by the physician for months together.
"Nor ought we
to omit the insults which the humane Britons offered to
our people, nor the
artifices which they used to enlist them in their
service to fight
against their country. It seems that one end of their
starving our people
was to bring them, by dint of necessity, to turn
rebels to their own
country, their own consciences, and their God. For
while thus
famishing they would come and say to them: 'This is the
just punishment of
your rebellion. Nay, you are treated too well for
rebels; you have
not received half you deserve or half you shall
receive. But if you
will enlist into his Majesty's service, you shall
have victuals and
clothes enough.'
"As to
insults, the British officers, besides continually cursing and
swearing at them as
rebels, often threatened to hang them all; and, on
a particular time,
ordered a number, each man to choose his halter out
of a parcel
offered, wherewith to be hanged; and even went so far as
to cause a gallows
to be erected before the prison, as if they were to
be immediately
executed.
"They further
threatened to send them all into the East Indies, and
sell them there for
slaves.
"In these and
numberless other ways did the British officers seem to
rack their
inventions to insult, terrify, and vex the poor
prisoners. The
meanest, upstart officers among them would insult and
abuse our colonels
and chief officers.
"In this
situation, without clothes, without victuals or drink, or
even water, or with
those which were base and unwholesome; without
fire, a number of
them sick, first with a contagious and nauseous
distemper; these,
with others, crowded by hundreds into close
confinement, at the
most unwholesome season of the year, and continued
there for four
months without blankets, bedding, or straw; without
linen to shift or
clothes to cover their bodies;--No wonder they all
became sickly, and
having at the same time no medicine, no help of
physicians, nothing
to refresh or support nature, died by scores in a
night, and those
who were so far gone as to be unable to help
themselves lay
uncared for, till death, more kind than Britons, put an
end to their
misery.
"By these
means, and in this way, 1,500 brave Americans, who had nobly
gone forth in
defence of their injured, oppressed country, but whom
the chance at war
had cast into the hands of our enemies, died in New
York, many of whom
were very amiable, promising youths, of good
families, the very
flower of our land; and of those who lived to come
out of prison, the
greater part, as far as I can learn, are dead or
dying. Their
constitutions are broken; the stamina of nature worn out;
they cannot
recover--they die. Even the few that might have survived
are dying of the
smallpox. For it seems that our enemies determining
that even these,
whom a good constitution and a kind Providence had
carried through
unexampled sufferings, should not at last escape
death, just before
their release from imprisonment infected them with
that fatal distemper.
"To these
circumstances we subjoin the manner in which they buried
those of our people
who died. They dragged them out of the prison by
one leg or one arm,
piled them up without doors, there let them lie
until a sufficient
number were dead to make a cart load, then loaded
them up in a cart,
drove the cart thus loaded out to the ditches made
by our people when
fortifying New York; there they would tip the cart,
tumble the corpses
together into the ditch, and afterwards slightly
cover them with
earth. * * * While our poor prisoners have been thus
treated by our
foes, the prisoners we have taken have enjoyed the
liberty of walking
and riding about within large limits at their
pleasure; have been
freely supplied with every necessary, and have
even lived on the
fat of the land. None have been so well fed, so
plump, and so merry
as they; and this generous treatment, it is said,
they could not but
remember. For when they were returned in the
exchange of
prisoners, and saw the miserable, famished, dying state of
our prisoners,
conscious of the treatment they had received, they
could not refrain
from tears." _Connecticut Journal,_ Jan. 30th,
1777.
In April of the
year 1777 a committee that was appointed by Congress
to inquire into the
doings of the British on their different marches
through New York
and New Jersey reported that "The prisoners, instead
of that humane
treatment which those taken by the United States
experienced, were
in general treated with the greatest barbarity. Many
of them were kept
near four days without food altogether.
* * *
Freemen and men of
substance suffered all that generous minds could
suffer from the
contempt and mockery of British and foreign
mercenaries. Multitudes died in prison. When they were
sent out
several died in
being carried from the boats on shore, or upon the
road attempting to
go home. The committee, in the course of their
inquiry, learned
that sometimes the common soldiers expressed sympathy
with the prisoners,
and the foreigners (did this) more than the
English. But this
was seldom or never the case with the officers, nor
have they been able
to hear of any charitable assistance given them by
the inhabitants who
remained in, or resorted to the city of New York,
which neglect, if
universal, they believe was never known to happen in
any similar case in
a Christian country."
We have already
shown that some of the citizens of New York, even a
number of the
profligate women of the town, did their best to relieve
the wants of the
perishing prisoners. But the guards were very strict,
and what they could
do was inadequate to remove the distresses under
which these victims
of cruelty and oppression died. As we are
attempting to make
this work a compendium of all the facts that can be
gathered upon the
subject, we must beg the reader's indulgence if we
continue to give
corroborating testimony of the same character, from
the periodicals of
the day. We will next quote from the _New
Hampshire Gazette,_
date of February 4th, 1779.
"It is painful
to repeat the indubitable accounts we are constantly
receiving, of the
cruel and inhuman treatment of the subjects of these
States from the
British in New York and other places. They who hear
our countrymen who
have been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands
of those
unrelenting tyrants, relate the sad story of their captivity,
the insults they
have received, and the slow, cool, systematic manner
in which great
numbers of those who could not be prevailed on to enter
their service have
been murdered, must have hearts of stone not to
melt with pity for
the sufferers, and burn with indignation at their
tormentors. As we
have daily fresh instances to prove the truth of
such a representation,
public justice requires that repeated public
mention should be
made of them. A cartel vessel lately arrived at New
London in
Connecticut, carrying about 130 American prisoners from the
prison ships in New
York. Such was the condition in which these poor
creatures were put
on board the cartel, that in the short run, 16 died
on board; upwards
of sixty when they were landed, were scarcely able
to move, and the
remainder greatly emaciated and enfeebled; and many
who continue alive
are never likely to recover their former
health. The
greatest inhumanity was experienced by the prisoners in a
ship of which one
Nelson, a Scotchman, had the superintendence.
Upwards of 300
American prisoners were confined at a time, on board
this ship. There
was but one small fire-place allowed to cook the food
of such a number.
The allowance of the prisoners was, moreover,
frequently delayed,
insomuch that, in the short days of November and
December, it was
not begun to be delivered out until 11 o'clock in the
forenoon so that
the whole could not be served until three. At sunset
the fire was
ordered to be quenched; no plea from the many sick, from
their absolute
necessity, the shortness of the time or the smallness
of the hearth, was
allowed to avail. The known consequence was that
some had not their
food dressed at all; many were obliged to eat it
half raw. On board
the ship no flour, oatmeal, and things of like
nature, suited to
the condition of infirm people, were allowed to the
many sick, nothing
but ship-bread, beef, and pork. This is the account
given by a number
of prisoners, who are credible persons, and this is
but a part of their
sufferings; so that the excuse made by the enemy
that the prisoners
were emaciated and died by contagious sickness,
which no one could
prevent, is futile. It requires no great sagacity
to know that
crowding people together without fresh air, and feeding,
or rather starving
them in such a manner as the prisoners have been,
must unavoidably
produce a contagion. Nor is it a want of candor to
suppose that many
of our enemies saw with pleasure this contagion,
which might have
been so easily prevented, among the prisoners who
could not be
persuaded to enter the service."
THE CASE OF CAPTAIN
BIRDSALL
Soon after the
battle of Long Island Captain Birdsall, a Whig officer,
made a successful
attempt to release an American vessel laden with
flour for the army,
which had been captured in the Sound by the
British. Captain
Birdsall offered, if the undertaking was approved of
by his superior officer,
to superintend the enterprise himself. The
proposal was
accepted, when Birdsall, with a few picked men, made the
experiment, and
succeeded in sending the vessel to her original
destination. But he
and one of his men fell into the hands of the
enemy. He was sent
to the Provost Jail under surveillance of "that
monster in human
shape, the infamous Cunningham." He requested the use
of pen, ink, and
paper, for the purpose of acquainting his family of
his situation. On
being refused he made a reply which drew from the
keeper some
opprobious epithets, accompanied by a thrust from his
sword, which
penetrated the shoulder of his victim, and caused the
blood to flow
freely. Being locked up alone in a
filthy apartment,
and denied any
assistance whatever, he was obliged to dress the wound
with his own linen,
and then to endure, in solitude and misery, every
indignity which the
malice of the Provost Master urged him to inflict
upon a _damned
rebel_, who, he declared, ought to be hung.
"After several
months of confinement and starvation he was exchanged."
Two Whig gentlemen
of Long Island were imprisoned in the Provost
Prison some time in
the year 1777. Two English Quakers named Jacob
Watson and Robert
Murray at last procured their release.
Their names
were George
Townsend and John Kirk. Kirk caught the
smallpox while in
prison. He was sent
home in a covered wagon. His wife met him at the
door, and tenderly
nursed him through the disorder. He
recovered in
due time, but she
and her infant daughter died of the malady. There
were hundreds of
such cases: indeed throughout the war contagion was
carried into every
part of the country by soldiers and former
prisoners. In some
instances the British were accused of selling
inoculated clothing
to the prisoners. Let us hope that some, at least,
of these reports
are unfounded.
The North Dutch
Church was the last of the churches used as prisons to
be torn down. As
late as 1850 it was still standing, and marks of
bayonet thrusts
were plainly to be discerned upon its pillars.
How
many of the
wretched sufferers were in this manner done to death we
have no means of
discovering, but it must have been easier to die in
that manner than to
have endured the protracted agonies of death by
starvation.
John Pintard, who
assisted his uncle, Lewis Pintard, Commissioner for
American prisoners
in New York, thus wrote of their sufferings. It
must be remembered
that the prisoners taken in 1776 died, for the most
part, before our struggling
nation was able to protect them, before
Commissioners had
been appointed, and when, in her feeble infancy, the
Republic was
powerless to aid them.
"The prisoners
taken on Long Island and at Fort Washington, sick,
wounded, and well,
were all indiscriminately huddled together, by
hundreds and
thousands, large numbers of whom died by disease, and
many undoubtedly
poisoned by inhuman attendants, for the sake of their
watches or silver
buckles."
It was on the 20th
of January, 1777, that Washington proposed to
Mr. Lewis Pintard,
a merchant of New York, that he should accept the
position as
resident agent for American prisoners. In May of that year
General Parsons
sent to Washington a plan for making a raid upon Long
Island, and
bringing off the American officers, prisoners of war on
parole. Washington,
however, disapproved of the plan, and it was not
executed.
No one sympathized
with the unfortunate victims of British cruelty
more deeply than
the Commander-in-chief. But he keenly felt the
injustice of
exchanging sound, healthy, British soldiers, for starved
and dying wretches,
for the most part unable even to reach their
homes. In a letter
written by him on the 28th of May, 1777, to General
Howe, he declared
that a great proportion of prisoners sent out by the
British were not
fit subjects for exchange, and that, being made so
unfit by the
severity of their treatment, a deduction should be
made. It is
needless to say that the British General refused this
proposition.
On the 10th of
June, 1777, Washington, in a long letter to General
Howe, states that
he gave clothing to the British prisoners in his
care. He also
declares that he was not informed of the sufferings of
the Americans in
New York until too late, and that he was refused
permission to
establish an agency in that city to purchase what was
necessary to supply
the wants of the prisoners.
It was not until
after the battle of Trenton that anything could be
done to relieve
these poor men. Washington, by his heroism, when he
led his little band
across the half frozen Delaware, saved the lives
of the small
remnant of prisoners in New York. After the battle he had
so many British and
Hessian prisoners in his power, that he was able
to impress upon the
British general the fact that American prisoners
were too valuable
to be murdered outright, and that it was more
expedient to keep
them alive for purposes of exchange.
Rivington's
_Gazette_ of Jan. 15th, 1779, contains this notice:
"Privateers
arriving in New York Harbor are to put their prisoners on
board the Good Hope
or Prince of Wales prison ships.
"James
Dick."
If the Jersey were
in use at that time it must have been too crowded
for further
occupancy. But although there is frequent mention in the
periodicals of the
day of the prison ships of New York the Jersey did
not become
notorious until later.
On the 29th of
June, 1779, Sir George Collier, in a notice in
Rivington's
_Gazette_, forbids "privateers landing prisoners on
Long Island to the
damage and annoyance of His Majesty's faithful
servants."
This order was no
doubt issued, in fear of contagion, which fear led
the British to
remove their prison ships out of New York Harbor to the
retired waters of
Wallabout Bay, where the work of destruction could
go on with less
fear of producing a general pestilence.
In the issue for
the 23rd of August, 1779, we read: "To be sold, The
sails and rigging
of the ship Good Hope. Masts, spars, and yards as
good as new."
Among the accounts
of cruelty to the prisoners it is refreshing to
come upon such a
paragraph as this, from a New London, Conn. paper,
dated August 18th,
1779. "Last week five or six hundred American
prisoners were
exchanged. A flag returned here with 47 American
prisoners, and
though taken out of the Good Hope prison ship, it must
(for once) be
acknowledged that all were very well and healthy. Only
150 left."
The next quotation
that we will give contains one of the first
mentions of the
Jersey as a prison ship, that we have been able to
find.
"New London,
Sept. 1st, 1779. D. Stanton testifies that he was taken
June 5th and put in
the Jersey prison ship. An allowance from Congress
was sent on board.
About three or four weeks past we were removed on
board the Good
Hope, where we found many sick. There is now a hospital
ship provided, to
which they are removed, and good attention paid."
A Boston paper
dated September 2nd, 1779, has the following: "Returned
to this port
Alexander Dickey, Commissary of Prisoners, from New York,
with a cartel,
having on board 180 American prisoners. Their
countenances
indicate that they have undergone every conceivable
inhumanity."
"New London,
Sep. 29th 1779. A Flag arrived here from New York with
117 prisoners,
chiefly from New England."
From Rivington's
_Gazette,_ March lst, 1780. "Last Saturday
afternoon the Good
Hope prison ship, lying in the Wallebocht Bay was
entirely consumed
after having been wilfully set on fire by a
Connecticut man
named Woodbury, who confessed to the fact. He with
others of the
incendiaries are removed to the Provost. The prisoners
let each other down
from the port holes and decks into the water."
So that was the end
of the Good Hope. She seems to have been burned by
some of the
prisoners in utter desperation, probably with some hope
that, in the
confusion, they might be enabled to escape, though we do
not learn that any
of them were so fortunate, and the only consequence
of the deed appears
to have been that the remaining ships were crowded
to suffocation.
A writer in the
Connecticut _Gazette,_ whose name is not given,
says: "May
25th, 1780. I am now a prisoner on board the Falmouth, a
place the most
dreadful; we are confined so that we have not room even
to lie down all at
once to sleep. It is the most horrible, cursed,
hole that can be
thought of. I was sick and longed for some small
beer, while I lay
unpitied at death's door, with a putrid fever, and
though I had money
I was not permitted to send for it. I offered
repeatedly a hard
dollar for a pint. The wretch who went forward and
backward would not
oblige me. I am just able to creep about. Four
prisoners have
escaped from this ship. One having, as by accident,
thrown his hat
overboard, begged leave to go after it in a small boat,
which lay
alongside. Having reached the hat they secured the sentinel
and made for the
Jersey shore, though several armed boats pursued, and
shot was fired from
the shipping."
The New Jersey
_Gazette_ of June 4th, 1780, says: "Thirty-five
Americans,
including five officers, made their escape from the prison
ship at New York
and got safely off."
"For Sale. The
remains of the hospital ship Kitty, as they now lie at
the Wallebocht,
with launch, anchors, and cables." Gaine's
_Mercury_, July
1st, 1780.
New Jersey
_Gazette_, August 23, 1780. "Captain Grumet, who made
his escape from the
Scorpion prison ship, at New York, on the evening
of the 15th, says
more lenity is shown the prisoners. There are 200 in
the Strombolo, and
120 in the Scorpion."
It was in 1780 that
the poet Freneau was a prisoner on the Scorpion,
which, at that
time, was anchored in the East River. In Rivington's
_Gazette_, at the
end of that year, the "hulks of his Majesty's
sloops Scorpion and
Hunter" are advertised for sale. Also "the
Strombolo
fire-ship, now lying in North River." It appears, however,
that there were no
purchasers, and they remained unsold. They were
still in use until
the end of the year 1781. Gaine's _Mercury_
declares that
"the Strombolo, from August 21st to December 10th, 1781,
had never less than
150 prisoners on board, oftener over 200."
"Captain
Cahoon with four others escaped from a prison ship to Long
Island in a boat,
March 8, notwithstanding they were fired on from the
prison and hospital
ships, and pursued by guard boats from three in
the afternoon to
seven in the evening. He left 200 prisoners in New
York."
_Connecticut Journal_, March 22, 1781.
The _Connecticut
Gazette_, in May, 1781, stated that 1100 French
and American
prisoners had died during the winter in the prison
ships. "New
London, November 17th, 1781. A Flag of truce returned here
from New York with
132 prisoners, with the rest of those carried off
by Arnold. They are
chiefly from the prison ships, and some from the
Sugar House, and
are mostly sick."
"New London,
Jan. 4th, 1782. 130 prisoners landed here from New York
December third, in
most deplorable condition. A great part are since
dead, and the
survivors so debilitated that they will drag out a
miserable
existence. It is enough to melt the most obdurate heart to
see these miserable
objects landed at our wharves sick and dying, and
the few rags they
have on covered with vermin and their own
excrements."
CHAPTER XXII
THE JOURNAL OF DR.
ELIAS CORNELIUS--BRITISH PRISONS IN THE SOUTH
We must now conduct
our readers back to the Provost Prison in New
York, where, for
some time, Colonel Ethan Allen was incarcerated. Dr.
Elias Cornelius, a
surgeon's mate, was taken prisoner by the British
on the 22nd of
August, 1777. On that day he had ridden to the enemy's
advanced post to
make observations, voluntarily accompanying a
scouting party. On
his way back he was surprised, over-powered, and
captured by a party
of British soldiers.
This was at East
Chester. He seems to have lagged behind the rest of
the party, and thus
describes the occurrence: "On riding into town
(East Chester) four
men started from behind a shed and took me
prisoner. They
immediately began robbing me of everything I had, horse
and harness,
pistols, Great Coat, shoe-buckles, pocket book, which
contained over
thirty pounds, and other things. The leader of the
guard abused me
very much. * * * When we arrived at King's Bridge I
was put under the
Provost Guard, with a man named Prichard and several
other
prisoners." They were kept at the guard house there for some
time, and regaled
with mouldy bread, rum and water, and sour apples,
which were thrown
down for them to scramble for, as if they were so
many pigs. They
were at last marched to New York. Just before reaching
that city they were
carried before a Hessian general to be "made a
show of." The
Hessians mocked them, told them they were all to be
hung, and even went
so far as to draw their swords across their
throats. But a
Hessian surgeon's mate took pity on Cornelius, and gave
him a glass of
wine.
On the march to New
York in the hot summer afternoon they were not
allowed to stop
even for a drink of water. Cornelius was in a fainting
condition, when a
poor woman, compassionating his sad plight, asked to
be allowed to give
them some water. They were then about four miles
from New York. She
ran into her house and brought out several pails of
beer, three or four
loaves of bread, two or three pounds of cheese,
and besides all
this, she gave money to some of the prisoners. Her
name was Mrs.
Clemons. She was from Boston and kept a
small store
along the road to
New York.
Cornelius says:
"We marched till we come to the Bowery, three quarters
of a mile from New
York. * * * As we come into town,
Hessians,
Negroes, and
children insulted, stoned, and abused us.
* * * In this
way we were led
through half the streets as a show. * * * At last we
were ordered to the
Sugar House, which formerly went by the name of
Livingstone's Sugar
House. Here one Walley, a Sergeant of the 20th
Regiment of Irish
traitors in the British service, had the charge of
the prisoners. This man was the most barbarous, cruel man
that ever I
saw. He drove us
into the yard like so many hogs. From there he
ordered us into the
Sugar House, which was the dirtiest and most
disagreeable place
that I ever saw, and the water in the pump was not
better than that in
the docks. The top of the house was open * * * to
the weather, so
that when it rained the water ran through every floor,
and it was
impossible for us to keep dry. Mr. Walley gave thirteen of
us four pounds of
mouldy bread and four pounds of poor Irish pork for
four days. I asked
Mr Walley if I was not to have my parole. He
answered 'No!' When
I asked for pen and ink to write a few lines to my
father, he struck
me across the face with a staff which I have seen
him beat the
prisoners." (with)
On the next morning
Cornelius was conveyed to the Provost Guard. "I
was then taken down
to a Dungeon. The provost marshal was Sergeant
Keith"
(Cunningham appears to have been, at this time, murdering the
unfortunate
prisoners in his power at Philadelphia).
"There was in
this place a Captain Travis of Virginia, and Captain of
a sloop of war.
There were also in this dismal place nine thieves,
murderers,
etc. A Captain Chatham was taken sick
with nervous
fever. I requested
the Sergeant to suffer me to send for some
medicine, or I
believed he might die, to which he replied he might
die, and if he did
he would bury him.
"All the
provisions each man had was but two pounds meat and two
pounds bread for a
week, always one and sometimes both was not fit to
eat. * * * I had no change of linen from the 25th
of August to the
12th of
September."
It seems that the
father of Cornelius, who lived on Long Island, was
an ardent Tory.
Cornelius asked Sergeant O'Keefe to be allowed to send
to his father for
money and clothing. But this was refused. "In this
hideous
place," he continues, "I was kept until the 20th of September;
when Sergeant Keath
took Captains C., and Travis, and myself, and led
us to the upper
part of the prison, where were Ethan Allen, Major
Williams, Paine and
Wells and others. Major Williams belonged at
Maryland and was
taken prisoner at Fort Washington. * * *
"While at this
place we were not allowed to speak to any friend, not
even out of the
window. I have frequently seen women beaten with canes
and ram-rods who
have come to the prisons' windows to speak to their
Husbands, Sons, or
Brothers, and officers put in the dungeon just for
asking for cold
water."
Dried peas were
given out to the prisoners, without the means of
cooking them.
When Fort
Montgomery was taken by the British the American officers
who had been in
command at that post were brought to the Provost and
put into two small
rooms on the lower floor. Some of them were badly
wounded, but no
surgeon was allowed to dress their wounds. Cornelius
asked permission to
do so, but this was refused. "All of us in the
upper prison,"
he continues, "were sometimes allowed to go on top of
the house. I took
this opportunity to throw some Ointment and Lint
down the chimney to
the wounded in the lower rooms with directions how
to use it. I knew
only one of them--Lt. Col. Livingstone."
At the time of
Burgoyne's surrender a rumor of the event reached the
prisoners, and
women passing along the street made signs to assure
them that that
general was really a captive. Colonel Livingstone
received a letter
from his father giving an account of Burgoyne's
surrender.
"Soon we heard hollooing and other expressions of joy from
him and others in
the (lower) rooms. * * * He put the letter up
through a crack in
the floor for us to read. * * * The whole prison
was filled with joy
inexpressible. * * * From this time we
were
better treated,
although the provision was bad, but we drew rather
larger quantities
of it. Some butter, and about a gill of rice and
some cole were
dealt out to us, which we never drew before.
"About this
time my father came to see me. I was called down to the
grates. My heart at
first was troubled within me; I burst into tears,
and did not speak
for some minutes. I put my hand through the grates,
and took my
father's and held it fast. The poor old gentleman shed
many tears, and
seemed much troubled to see me in so woeful a place.
* * * He asked me
what I thought of myself now, and why I could not
have been ruled by
him. * * * Soon the Provost Marshal came and said
he could not allow
my father to stay longer.
"* * * Toward
the latter part of December we had Continental bread and
beef sent us, and
as much wood as we wished to burn. A friend gave me
some money which
was very useful.
"Jan. 9th,
1778. This day Mr. Walley came and took from the prison
myself and six
others under guard to the Sugar House. * * * At this
time my health was
bad, being troubled with the scurvy, and my
prospects for the
winter were dark."
He describes the
Sugar House as a dreadful place of torment, and says
that thirty
disorderly men were allowed to steal from the other
prisoners the few
comforts they possessed. They would even take the
sick out of their
beds, steal their bedding, and beat and kick the
wretched sufferers.
The articles thus procured they would sell to
Mr. Walley (or
Woolley) for rum.
On the 13th of
January Cornelius was sent to the hospital. The Brick
Meeting House was
used for the sick among the prisoners.
"Here,"
he continues, "I stayed until the 16th. I was not much better
than I was in the
Sugar House, no medicine was given me, though I had
a cough and a
fever. The Surgeon wished me as soon as I got better to
take the care of
the sick, provided I could get my parole.
"Jan. 16th. On
coming next morning he (the surgeon) said he could get
my parole. I was
now determined to make my escape, though hardly able
to undertake it.
Just at dusk, having made the Sentinel intoxicated, I
with others, went
out into the backyard to endeavor to escape over the
fence. The others
being backward about going first, I climbed upon a
tombstone and gave
a spring, and went over safe, and then gave orders
for the others to
do so also. A little Irish lad undertook to leap
over, and caught
his clothes in the spikes on the wall, and made
something of a
noise. The sentinel being aroused called out 'Rouse!'
which is the same
as to command the guards to turn out. They were soon
out and surrounded
the prison. In the mean time I had made my way to
St. Paul's Church,
which was the wrong way to get out of town.
"The guards, expecting
that I had gone towards North River, went in
that direction. On
arriving at the Church I turned into the street to
go by the College
and thus go out of town by the side of the river.
Soon after I was
out of town I heard the eight o'clock gun, which * *
* was the signal
for the sentinels to hail every man that came by. I
wished much to
cross the river, but could not find any boat
suitable. While
going along up the side of the river at 9 P.M., I was
challenged by a
sentinel with the usual word (Burdon), upon which I
answered nothing,
and on being challenged the second time I answered
'Friend.' He bade
me advance and give the countersign, upon which I
fancied (pretended)
I was drunk, and advanced in a staggering manner,
and after falling
to the ground he asked me where I was going. I told
him 'Home,' but
that I had got lost, and having been to New York had
taken rather too
much liquor, and become somewhat intoxicated.
He
then asked me my name
which I told him was Matthew Hoppen. Mr. Hoppen
lived not far
distant. I solicited him to put me in
the right
direction, but he
told me I must not go until the Sergeant of the
guard dismissed me
from him, unless I could give him the
countersign. I still
entreated him to let me go. Soon he consented and
directed my course,
which I thanked him for. Soon the moon arose and
made it very light,
and there being snow on the ground, crusted over,
and no wind,
therefore a person walking could be heard a great
distance.
"At this time
the tumor in my lungs broke, and being afraid to cough
for fear of being
heard, prevented me from relieving myself of the pus
that was lodged
there.
"I had now to
cross lots that were cleared and covered with snow, the
houses being thick
on the road which I was to cross, and for fear of
being heard I lay
myself flat on my stomach and crept along on the
frozen snow. When I
come to the fence I climbed over, and walked down
the road, near a
house where there was music and dancing. At this time
one of the guards
came out. I immediately fell down upon my face. Soon
the man went into
the house. I rose again, and crossed the fence into
the field, and
proceeded towards the river. There being no trees or
rocks to prevent my
being seen, and not being able to walk without
being heard, and
the dogs beginning to bark, I lay myself down flat
again, and crept
across the field, which took me half an hour. I at
length reached the
river and walked by the side of it some distance,
and saw a small
creek which ran up into the island, and by the side of
it a small house,
and two Sentinels one on each side of it. Not
knowing what to do
I crept into a hole in the bank which led in
between two rocks.
Here I heard them talk. I concluded to endeavor to
go around the head
of the creek, which was about half a mile, but on
getting out of the
hole I took hold of the limb of a tree which gave
way, and made a
great noise. The sentinel, on hearing it said, 'Did
you not hear a
person on the creek?'
"I waited some
minutes and then went around the head of the creek and
came down the river
on the other side to see if I could not find a
boat to cross to
Long Island. But on finding sentinels near by I
retreated a short
distance back, and went up the river. I
had not
gone more than
thirty rods when I saw another sentinel posted on the
bank of the river
where I must pass. * * * I stood some time thinking
what course to
pursue, but on looking at the man found he did not move
and was leaning on
his gun. I succeeded in passing by
without waking
him up. After this I found a Sentinel every fifteen
or twenty rods
until I came within
two miles of Hell Gate. Here I stayed until my
feet began to
freeze, and having nothing to eat I went a mile further
up the river. It now being late I crept into the bushes and
lay down
to think what to do
next. I concluded to remain where I was during the
night, and early in
the morning to go down to New York and endeavor to
find some house to
conceal myself in.
"In the
morning as soon as the Revelry Beating commenced I went on my
way to New York
which was eight miles from this place. After
proceeding awhile I
heard the morning guns fired from New York, though
I was four miles
from it. I passed the sentinels unmolested down the
middle of the road,
and arrived there before many were up. I met many
British and Hessian
soldiers whom I knew very well, but they did not
know me.
"I went to a
house, and found them friends of America, and was kindly
received of them,
and (they) promised to keep me a few days.
"I had not
been here but three quarters of an hour when I was obliged
to call for a bed.
After being in bed two or three hours I was taken
with a stoppage in
my breast, and made my resperation difficult, and
still being afraid
to cough loud for fear of being heard. The good
lady of the house
gave me some medicine of my own prescribing, which
soon gave me
relief. Soon after a rumor spread about town among the
friends of America
of my confinement, and expecting soon to be
retaken, they took
measures to have me conveyed to Long Island, which
was accordingly
done.
"Feb. 18th,
1778. The same day I was landed I walked nine miles, and
put up at a
friend's house, during my walk I passed my Grandfather's
house, and dare not
go in for fear he would deliver me up to the
British. Next
morning I started on my journey again, and reached the
place I intended at
12 o'clock, and put up with two friends. The next
morning I and two
companions started from our friends with four days
provisions, and
shovels and axes to build us a hut in the woods. We
each of us had a
musket, powder, and balls. After going two miles in
the woods we dug
away the snow and made us a fire. After
warming
ourselves we set to
work to build ourselves a hut; and got one side of
it done the first
day, and the next we finished it. It was tolerably
comfortable. We kept large fires, and cooked our meat on
the
coals. In eight or
ten days we had some provisions brought us by our
friends. At this
time we heard that Captain Rogers was cast away on
Long Island, and
concealed by some of his friends. We went to see him,
and found him. We
attempted to stay in the house in a back room. At
about ten A. M. there came in a Tory, he knowing some of
us seemed
much troubled. We
made him promise that he would not make known our
escape. The next
day our two comrades went back to their old quarters,
and Captain Rogers
and myself and a friend went into the woods and
built us a hut,
about ten miles from my former companions, with whom
we kept up a
constant correspondence. Soon a man was brought to us by
our friends, whom
we found to be John Rolston, a man who was confined
in the Provost Jail
with us, and was carried to the Hospital about
three weeks after I
was, and made his escape the same way, and by
friends was brought
to Long Island.
"March 19th,
1778. About 5 o'clock a friend came to us and and said we
had an opportunity
to go over to New England in a boat that had just
landed with four
Tories, that had stolen the boat at Fairfield,
Conn. We
immediately sent word to our two friends with whom I first
helped to build a
hut, but they could not be found. At sunset those
that came in the
boat went off, and some of our friends guided us
through the woods
to the boat, taking two oars with us, for fear we
should not find any
in the boat. On arrival at the place our kind
friends helped us
off. We rowed very fast till we were a
great
distance from land.
The moon rose soon, and the wind being fair we
arrived we knew not
where, about a half hour before day. We went on
shore, and soon
found it was Norwalk, Conn. We had bade farewell to
Long Island, for
the present, upon which I composed the following
lines:--
"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 a
place called the
Old Mill, where we found a guard (American) who
hailed us at a
distance, and on coming up to him kindly received us,
and invited us to
his house to warm us. This being done we went home
with Captain
Rodgers, for he lived in Norwalk. Here we went to bed at
sunrise, and stayed
till 10 o'clock. After dinner we took leave of
Captain Rodgers and
started for head-quarters in Pennsylvania, where
the grand Army was
at that time. In seven days we arrived at Valley
Forge.
"Elias
Cornelius."
This portion of the
journal of Dr. Cornelius was published in the
_Putnam County
Republican_, in 1895, with a short account of the
author.
Dr. Cornelius was
born on Long Island in 1758, and was just twenty at
the time of his
capture. His ancestors came from Holland. They were of
good birth, and
brought a seal bearing their coat of arms to this
country. On the
15th of April, 1777, he was appointed surgeon's mate
to the Second
Regiment of Rhode Island troops under Colonel Israel
Angell.
The article in the
_Republican_ gives a description of Cunningham
and the Provost
which we do not quote in full, as it contains little
that is new. It
says, however that "While Cunningham's victims were
dying off from cold
and starvation like cattle, he is said to have
actually mingled an
arsenical preparation with the food to make them
die the quicker. It
is recorded that he boasted that he had killed
more rebels with
his own hand than had been slain by all the King's
forces in
America."
Cornelius continued
in the Continental service until January 1st,
1781, and received
an honorable discharge. After the war he
settled
at Yorktown,
Westchester County, and came to be known as the "beloved
physician." He
was very gentle and kind, and a great Presbyterian. He
died in 1823, and
left descendants, one of whom is Judge
C. M. Tompkins, of
Washington, D. C.
As we have seen,
Cunningham was not always in charge of the
Provost. It appears
that, during his absence in Philadelphia and other
places, where he
spread death and destruction, he left Sergeant
O'Keefe, almost as
great a villian as himself, in charge of the
hapless prisoners
in New York. It is to be hoped that his boast that
he had killed more
Americans than all the King's forces is an
exaggeration. It may, however, be true that in the years
1776 and
1777 he destroyed
more American soldiers than had, at that time,
fallen on the field
of battle.
When an old building
that had been used as a prison near the City Hall
was torn down a few
years ago to make way for the Subway Station of
the Brooklyn
Bridge, a great number of skeletons were found _in its
cellars_. That
these men starved to death or came to their end by
violence cannot be
doubted. New York, at the time of the
Revolution,
extended to about
three-quarters of a mile from the Battery, its
suburbs lying
around what is now Fulton Street.
Cornelius speaks of
the Bowery as about
three-quarters of a mile from New York!
"St. Paul's
Church," says Mr. Haltigan, in his very readable book
called "The
Irish in the American Revolution," "where Washington
attended divine
service, is now the only building standing that
existed in those
days, and that is a veritable monument to Irish and
American
patriotism. * * * On the Boston Post Road, where it crossed a
brook in the
vicinity of Fifty-Second street and Second avenue, then
called Beekman's
Hill, William Beekman had an extensive country
house. During the
Revolution this house was the British headquarters,
and residence of
Sir William Howe, where Nathan Hale was condemned to
death, and where
Major Andrè received his last instructions before
going on his
ill-fated mission to the traitor Arnold."
Lossing tells us of
the imprisonment of one of the signers of the
Declaration of
Independence, in the following language: "Suffering and
woe held terrible
sway after Cornwallis and his army swept over the
plains of New
Jersey. Like others of the signers of the great
Declaration,
Richard Stockton was marked for peculiar vengeance by the
enemy. So suddenly
did the flying Americans pass by in the autumn of
1776, and so soon
were the Hessian vultures and their British
companions on the
trail, that he had barely time to remove his family
to a place of
safety before his beautiful mansion was filled with rude
soldiery. The house
was pillaged, the horses and stock were driven
away, the furniture
was converted into fuel, the choice old wines in
the cellar were
drunk, the valuable library, and all the papers of
Mr. Stockton were
committed to the flames, and the estate was laid
waste. Mr.
Stockton's place of concealment was discovered by a party
of loyalists, who
entered the house at night, dragged him from his
bed, and treating
him with every indignity that malice could invent,
hurried him to New
York, where he was confined in the loathsome
Provost Jail and
treated with the utmost cruelty. When, through the
interposition of
Congress he was released, his constitution was
hopelessly
shattered, and he did not live to see the independence of
his country
achieved. He died at his home at Princeton, in February,
1781, blessed to
the last with the tender and affectionate attentions
of his noble
wife."
We have gathered
very little information about the British prisons in
the south, but that
little shall be laid before the reader. It repeats
the same sad story
of suffering and death of hundreds of martyrs to
the cause of
liberty, and of terrible cruelty on the part of the
English as long as
they were victorious.
Mr. Haltigan tells
of the "tender mercies" of Cornwallis at the south
in the following
words: "Cornwallis was even more cruel than Clinton,
and more flagrant
in his violations of the conditions of capitulation.
After the fall of
Charleston the real misery of the inhabitants
began. Every
stipulation made by Sir Henry Clinton for their welfare
was not only
grossly violated, but he sent out expeditions in various
sections to plunder
and kill the inhabitants, and scourge the country
generally. One of
these under Tarleton surprised Colonel Buford and
his Virginia
regiment at Waxhaw, N. C., and while negotiations were
pending for a
surrender, the Americans, without notice, were suddenly
attacked and
massacred in cold blood. Colonel Buford and one hundred
of his men saved
themselves only by flight. Though the
rest sued for
quarter, one
hundred and thirteen of them were killed on the spot, and
one hundred and
fifty more were so badly hacked by Tarleton's dragoons
that they could not
be removed. Only fifty-three out of the
entire
regiment were
spared and taken prisoners. 'Tarleton's quarter'
thereafter became
the synonym for barbarity. * * * Feeling
the silent
influence of the
eminent citizens under parole in Charleston,
Cornwallis resolved
to expatriate them to Florida.
"Lieutenant
Governor Gadsden and seventy-seven other public and
influential men
were taken from their beds by armed parties, before
dawn on the morning
of the 27th of August, 1780, hurried on board the
Sandwich prison
ship, without being allowed to bid adieu to their
families, and were
conveyed to St. Augustine.
"The pretence
for this measure, by which the British authorities
attempted to
justify it, was the false accusation that these men were
concerting a scheme
for burning the town and massacring the loyal
inhabitants. Nobody
believed the tale, and the act was made more
flagrant by this
wicked calumny. Arrived at St. Augustine the
prisoners were
offered paroles to enjoy liberty within the precincts
of the town.
Gadsden, the sturdy patriot, refused acquiescence, for he
disdained making
further terms with a power that did not regard the
sanctity of a
solemn treaty. He was determined not to be deceived the
second time.
"'Had the
British commanders,' he said, 'regarded the terms of
capitulation at
Charleston I might now, although a prisoner, enjoy the
smiles and
consolations of my family under my own roof; but even
without a shadow of
accusation preferred against me, for any act
inconsistent with my
plighted faith, I am torn from them, and here, in
a distant land,
invited to enter into new engagements. I will give no
parole.'
"'Think better
of it,' said Governor Tonyn, who was in command, 'a
second refusal of
it will fix your destiny,--a dungeon will be your
future habitation.'
"'Prepare it
then,' replied the inflexible patriot, 'I will give no
parole, so help me
God!'
"And the petty
tyrant did prepare it, and for forty-two weeks that
patriot, of almost
threescore years of age, never saw the light of the
blessed sun, but
lay incarcerated in the dungeon of the castle of St
Augustine. All the
other prisoners accepted paroles, but they were
exposed to
indignities more harrowing to the sensitive soul than close
confinement. When
they were exchanged, in June, 1781, they were not
allowed even to
touch at Charleston, but were sent to Philadelphia,
whither their
families had been banished when the prisoners were taken
to the
Sandwich. More than a thousand persons
were thus exiled, and
husbands and wives,
fathers and children, first met in a distant State
after a separation
of ten months.
"Nearly all
the soldiers taken prisoners at Charleston were confined
in prison ships in
the harbor, where foul air, bad food, filth, and
disease killed
hundreds of them. Those confined at Haddrell's Point
also suffered
terribly. Many of them had been nurtured in affluence;
now far from
friends and entirely without means, they were reduced to
the greatest
straits. They were not even allowed to
fish for their
support, but were
obliged to perform the most menial services.
After
thirteen months
captivity, Cornwallis ordered them to be sent to the
West Indies, and
this cruel order would have been carried out, but for
the general
exchange of prisoners which took place soon afterwards.
"Governor
Rutledge, in speaking before the South Carolina Assembly at
Jacksonboro, thus
eloquently referred to the rigorous and
unjustifiable
conduct of the British authorities:
"'Regardless
of the sacred ties of honor, destitute of the feelings of
humanity, and
determined to extinguish, if possible, every spark of
freedom in this
country, the enemy, with the insolent pride of
conquerors, gave
unbounded scope to the exercise of their tyrannical
disposition,
infringed their public engagements, and violated their
most solemn
treaties. Many of our worthiest citizens, without cause,
were long and
closely confined, some on board prison ships, and others
in the town and
castle of St. Augustine. Their properties were
disposed of at the
will and caprice of the enemy, and their families
sent to a different
and distant part of the continent without the
means of support.
Many who had surrendered prisoners of war were
killed in cold
blood. Several suffered death in the most ignominious
manner, and others
were delivered up to savages and put to tortures,
under which they
expired. Thus the lives, liberties, and properties of
the people were
dependent solely on the pleasure of the British
officers, who
deprived them of either or all on the most frivolous
pretenses. Indians, slaves, and a desperate banditti of
the most
profligate
characters were caressed and employed by the enemy to
execute their
infamous purposes. Devastation and ruin marked their
progress and that
of their adherents; nor were their violences
restrained by the
charms or influence of beauty and innocence; even
the fair sex, whom
it is the duty of all, and the pleasure and pride
of the brave to
protect, they and their tender offspring, were victims
to the inveterate
malice of an unrelenting foe. Neither the tears of
mothers, nor the
cries of infants could excite pity or compassion. Not
only the peaceful
habitation of the widow, the aged and the infirm,
but the holy
temples of the Most High were consumed in flames, kindled
by their
sacrilegious hands. They have tarnished the glory of the
British army,
disgraced the profession of a British soldiery, and
fixed indelible
stigmas of rapine, cruelty and peridy, and profaneness
on the British
name.'"
When in 1808 the
Tammany Society of New York laid the cornerstone of a
vault in which the
bones of many of the prison ship martyrs were laid
Joseph D. Fay, Esq., made an oration in which he said:
"But the
suffering of those unfortunate Americans whom the dreadful
chances of war had
destined for the prison-ships, were far greater
than any which have
been told. In that deadly season of the year, when
the dog-star rages
with relentless fury, when a pure air is especially
necessary to
health, the British locked their prisoner, after long
marches, in the
dungeons of ships affected with contagion, and reeking
with the filth of
crowded captives, dead and dying. * * * No
reasoning, no
praying could obtain from his stern tyrants the smallest
alleviation of his
fate.
"In South
Carolina the British officer called Fraser, after trying in
every manner to
induce the prisoners to enlist, said to them: 'Go to
your dungeons in
the prison ships, where you shall perish and rot, but
first let me tell
you that the rations which have been hitherto
allowed for your
wives and children shall, from this moment, cease
forever; and you
shall die assured that they are starving in the
public streets, and
that _you_ are the authors of their fate.'
"A sentence so
terribly awful appalled the firm soul of every
listening hero. A
solemn silence followed the declaration; they cast
their wondering
eyes one upon the other, and valor, for a moment, hung
suspended between
love of family, and love of country.
Love of
country at length
rose superior to every other consideration, and
moved by one
impulse, this glorious band of patriots thundered into
the astonished ears
of their persecutors, 'The prison-ships and Death,
or Washington and
our country!'
"Meagre famine
shook hands with haggard pestilence, joining a league
to 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, was
of French Huguenot
ancestry. The Freneaus came to New York in 1685.
His mother was
Agnes Watson, a resident of New York, and the poet was
born on the second
of January, 1752.
In the year 1780 a
vessel of which he was the owner, called the
Aurora, was taken
by the British. Freneau was on board,
though he was
not the captain of
the ship. The British man-of-war, Iris, made the
Aurora her prize,
after a fight in which the sailing master and many
of the crew were
killed. This was in May, 1780. The survivors were
brought to New
York, and confined on board the prison ship, Scorpion.
Freneau has left a
poem describing the horrors of his captivity in
very strong
language, and it is easy to conceive that his suffering
must have been
intense to have aroused such bitter feelings. We give a
part of his poem,
as it contains the best description of the
indignities
inflicted upon the prisoners, and their mental and
physical sufferings
that we have found in any work on the subject.
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. He
was on board the
Scorpion and Hunter about two months, and was then
exchanged. We fear that he has not in the least
exaggerated the
horrors of his
situation. In fact there seem to have been many bloody
pages torn from the
book of history, that can never be perused. Many
dark deeds were
done in these foul prisons, of which we can only give
hints, and the
details of many crimes committed against the helpless
prisoners are left
to our imaginations. But enough and more than
enough is known to
make us fear that _inhumanity_, a species of
cruelty unknown to
the lower animals, is really one of the most
prominent
characteristics of men. History is a
long and bloody record
of battles,
massacres, torture chambers; greed and violence; bigotry
and sin. The root
of all crimes is selfishness. What we call
inhumanity is we
fear not _inhuman_, but _human nature unrestrained_.
It is true that
some progress is made, and it is no longer the custom
to kill all
captives, at least not in civilized countries.
But war
will always be
"_horrida bella_," chiefly because war means license,
when the
unrestrained, wolfish passions of man get for the time the
upper hand. Our
task, however, is not that of a moralist, but of a
narrator of facts,
from which all who read can draw the obvious moral
for themselves.
CHAPTER XXIV
"THERE WAS A
SHIP"
Of all the ships
that were ever launched the "Old Jersey" is the most
notorious. Never
before or since, in the dark annals of human
sufferings, has so
small a space enclosed such a heavy weight of
misery. No other
prison has destroyed so many human beings in so short
a space of time.
And yet the Jersey was once as staunch and beautiful
a vessel as ever
formed a part of the Royal Navy of one of the
proudest nations of
the world. How little did her builders imagine
that she would go
down to history accompanied by the execrations of
all who are
acquainted with her terrible record!
It is said that it
was in the late spring of 1780 that the Old Jersey,
as she was then
called, was first moored in Wallabout Bay, off the
coast of Long
Island. We can find no record to prove that she was used
as a prison ship
until the winter of that year. She was,
at first, a
hospital ship for
British soldiers.
The reason for the
removal of the unfortunate prisoners from the ships
in New York Harbor
was that pestilential sickness was fast destroying
them, and it was
feared that the inhabitants of New York would suffer
from the prevailing
epidemics. They were therefore placed in rotten
hulks off the quiet
shores of Long Island, where, secluded from the
public eye, they
were allowed to perish by the thousands from cruel
and criminal
neglect.
"The Old Jersey
and the two hospital ships," says General J. Johnson,
"remained in
the Wallabout until New York was evacuated by the
British. The Jersey
was the receiving ship: the others, truly, the
ships of death!
"It has been
generally thought that all the prisoners died on board
the Jersey. This is
not true. Many may have died on board of her who
were not reported
as sick, but all who were placed on the sick list
were removed to the
hospital ships, from which they were usually
taken, sewed up in
a blanket, to their graves.
"After the
hospital ships were brought into the Wallabout, it was
reported that the
sick were attended by physicians. Few indeed were
those who
recovered, or came back to tell the tale of their sufferings
in those horrible
places. It was no uncommon sight to see five or six
dead bodies brought
on shore in a single morning, when a small
excavation would be
dug at the foot of the hill, the bodies cast into
it, and then a man
with a shovel would quickly cover them by
shovelling sand
down the hill upon them.
"Many were
buried in a ravine of this hill and many on Mr. Remsen's
farm. The whole
shore, from Rennie's Point, to Mr. Remsen's dooryard,
was a place of
graves; as were also the slope of the hill near the
house; the shore,
from Mr. Remsen's barn along the mill-pond to
Rappelye's farm;
and the sandy island between the flood-gates and the
mill-dam, while a
few were buried on the shore on the east side of the
Wallabout.
"Thus did
Death reign here, from 1776 (when the Whitby prison ship was
first moored in the
Wallabout) until the peace. The whole Wallabout
was a sickly place
during the war. The atmosphere seemed to be charged
with foul air: from
the prison ships; and with the effluvia of dead
bodies washed out
of their graves by the tides. * * * More than half
of the dead buried
on the outer side of the mill-pond, were washed out
by the waves at
high tide, during northeasterly winds.
"The bodies of
the dead lay exposed along the beach, drying and
bleaching in the
sun, and whitening the shores, till reached by the
power of a
succeeding storm, as the agitated waves receded, the bones
receded with them
into the deep, where they remain, unseen by man,
awaiting the
resurrection morn, when, again joined to the spirits to
which they belong,
they will meet their persecuting murderers at the
bar of the Supreme
Judge of the quick and the dead.
"We have
ourselves," General Johnson continues, "examined many of the
skulls lying on the
shore. From the teeth they appeared to
be the
remains of men in
the prime of life."
We will quote more
of this interesting account written by an
eyewitness of the
horrors he records, in a later chapter. At present
we will endeavor to
give the reader a short history of the Jersey,
from the day of her
launching to her degradation, when she was devoted
to the foul usages
of a prison ship.
She was a fourth
rate ship of the line, mounting sixty guns, and
carrying a crew of
four hundred men. She was built in 1736,
having
succeeded to the
name of a celebrated 50-gun ship, which was then
withdrawn from the
service, and with which she must not be
confounded. In 1737
she was fitted for sea as one of the Channel
Fleet, commanded by
Sir John Norris.
In the fall of 1738
the command of the Jersey was given to Captain
Edmund Williams,
and in July, 1739, she was one of the vessels which
were sent to the
Mediterranean under Rear Admiral Chaloner Ogle, when
a threatened
rupture with Spain rendered it necessary to strengthen
the naval force in
that quarter.
The trouble in the
Mediterranean having been quieted by the appearance
of so strong a
fleet, in 1740 the Jersey returned home; but she was
again sent out,
under the command of Captain Peter Lawrence, and was
one of the vessels
forming the fleet of Sir John Norris, when, in the
fall of that year
and in the spring of 1741, that gentleman made his
fruitless
demonstrations against the Spanish coast. Soon afterwards
the Jersey, still
forming one of the fleet commanded by Sir Chaloner
Ogle, was sent to
the West Indies, to strengthen the forces at that
station, commanded
by Vice-Admiral Vernon, and she was with that
distinguished
officer when he made his well-known, unsuccessful
attack on
Carthagena, and the Spanish dominions in America in that
year.
In March, 1743,
Captain Lawrence was succeeded m the command of the
Jersey by Captain
Harry Norris, youngest son of Admiral Sir John
Norris: and the
Jersey formed one of the fleet commanded by Sir John
Norris, which was
designed to watch the enemy's Brest fleet; but
having suffered
severely from a storm while on that station, she was
obliged to return
to the Downs.
Captain Harry
Norris having been promoted to a heavier ship, the
command of the
Jersey was given soon afterwards to Captain Charles
Hardy subsequently
well known as Governor of the Colony of New York;
and in June, 1744,
that officer having been appointed to the command
of the Newfoundland
Station, she sailed for North America, and bore
his flag in those
waters during the remainder of the year. In 1745,
still under the
immediate command of Captain Hardy, the Jersey was one
of the ships which,
under Vice-Admiral Medley, were sent to the
Mediterranean,
where Vice-Admiral Sir William Rowley then commanded;
and as she
continued on that station during the following year there
is little doubt
that Captain Hardy remained there, during the
remainder of his
term of service on that vessel.
It was while under
the command of Captain Hardy in July, 1745, that
the Jersey was
engaged with the French ship, St. Esprit, of 74 guns,
in one of the most
desperate engagements on record. The action
continued during
two hours and a half, when the St.
Esprit was
compelled to bear
away for Cadiz, where she was repaired and refitted
for sea. At the
close of Sir Charles Hardy's term of service in 1747,
the Jersey was laid
up, evidently unfit for active service; and in
October, 1748, she
was reported among the "hulks" in port.
On the renewal of
hostilities with France in 1756 the Jersey was
refitted for
service, and the command given to Captain John Barker,
and in May, 1757,
she was sent to the Mediterranean, where, under the
orders of Admiral
Henry Osbourne, she continued upwards of two years,
having been
present, on the 28th of February, 1758, when M. du Quesne
made his
ineffectual attempt to reinforce M. De la Clue, who was then
closely confined,
with the fleet under his command, in the harbor of
Carthagena.
On the 18th of
August, 1759, while commanded by Captain Barker, the
Jersey, with the
Culloden and the Conqueror, were ordered by Admiral
Boscowan, the
commander of the fleet, to proceed to the mouth of the
harbor of Toulon,
for the purpose of cutting out or destroying two
French ships which
were moored there under cover of the batteries with
the hope of forcing
the French Admiral, De la Clue, to an
engagement. The
three ships approached the harbour, as directed, with
great firmness; but
they were assailed by so heavy a fire, not only
from the enemy's
ships and fortifications, but from several masked
batteries, that,
after an unequal but desperate contest of upwards of
three hours, they
were compelled to retire without having succeeded in
their object; and
to repair to Gibraltar to be refitted.
In the course of
the year 1759 Captain Barker was succeeded in the
command of the
Jersey by Captain Andrew Wilkinson, under whom, forming
one of the
Mediterranean fleet, commanded by Sir Charles Saunders, she
continued in active
service until 1763.
In 1763 peace was
established, and the Jersey returned to England and
was laid up; but in
May, 1766, she was again commissioned, and under
the command of
Captain William Dickson, and bearing the flag of
Admiral Spry, she
was ordered to her former station in the
Mediterranean,
where she remained three years.
In the spring of
1769, bearing the flag of Commodore Sir John Byron,
the Jersey sailed
for America. She seems to have returned
home at the
close of the
summer, and her active duties appear to have been brought
to an end.
She remained out of
commission until 1776, when, without armament, and
under the command
of Captain Anthony Halstead, she was ordered to New
York as a hospital
ship.
Captain Halstead
died on the 17th of May, 1778, and, in July
following, he was
succeeded by Commander David Laird, under whom,
either as a
hospital, or a prison ship, she remained in Wallabout bay,
until she was
abandoned at the close of the war, to her fate, which
was to rot in the
mud at her moorings, until, at last, she sank, and
for many years her
wretched worm-eaten old hulk could be seen at low
tide, shunned by
all, a sorry spectacle, the ghost of what had once
been a gallant
man-of-war.
This short history
of the Jersey has been condensed from the account
written in 1865 by
Mr. Henry B. Dawson and published at
Morrisania,
New York, in that
year.
In an oration
delivered by Mr. Jonathan Russel, in Providence, R. I.,
on the 4th of July
1800, he thus speaks of this ill-fated vessel and
of her victims:
"But it was not in the ardent conflicts of the field
only, that our
countrymen fell; it was not the ordinary chances of war
alone which they
had to encounter. Happy indeed, thrice
happy were
Warren, Montgomery,
and Mercer; happy those other gallant spirits who
fell with glory in
the heat of the battle, distinguished by their
country and covered
with her applause. Every soul sensible to honor,
envies rather than
compassionates their fate. It was in the dungeons
of our inhuman
invaders; it was in the loathsome and pestiferous
prisons, that the
wretchedness of our countrymen still makes the heart
bleed. It was there
that hunger, and thirst, and disease, and all the
contumely that
cold-hearted cruelty could bestow, sharpened every pang
of death. Misery
there wrung every fibre that could feel, before she
gave the Blow of
Grace which sent the sufferer to eternity. It is said
that poison was
employed. No, there was no such mercy there. There,
nothing was
employed which could blunt the susceptibility to anguish,
or which, by
hastening death, could rob its agonies of a single
pang. On board one
only of these Prison ships above 11,000 of our
brave countrymen
are said to have perished. She was called the
Jersey. Her wreck
still remains, and at low ebb, presents to the world
its accursed and
blighted fragments. Twice in twenty-four hours the
winds of Heaven
sigh through it, and repeat the groans of our expiring
countrymen; and
twice the ocean hides in her bosom those deadly and
polluted ruins,
which all her waters cannot purify. Every rain that
descends washes
from the unconsecrated bank the bones of those
intrepid
sufferers. They lie, naked on the shore,
accusing the
neglect of their
countrymen. How long shall gratitude, and even piety
deny them burial?
They ought to be collected in one vast ossory, which
shall stand a
monument to future ages, of the two extremes of human
character: of that
depravity which, trampling on the rights of
misfortune, perpetrated
cold and calculating murder on a wretched and
defenceless
prisoner; and that virtue which animated this prisoner to
die a willing
martyr to his country. Or rather, were it possible,
there ought to be
raised a Colossal Column whose base sinking to Hell,
should let the
murderers read their infamy inscribed upon it; and
whose capital of
Corinthian laurel ascending to Heaven, should show
the sainted
Patriots that they have triumphed.
"Deep and
dreadful as the coloring of this picture may appear, it is
but a taint and
imperfect sketch of the original. You must remember a
thousand
unutterable calamities; a thousand instances of domestic as
well as national
anxiety and distress; which mock description. You
ought to remember
them; you ought to hand them down in tradition to
your posterity,
that they may know the awful price their fathers paid
for freedom."
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 last
chapter that more
than 11,000 prisoners perished on board the Jersey
alone, during the
space of three years and a half that she was moored
in the waters of
Wallabout Bay. This statement has never been
contradicted, as
far as we know, by British authority. Yet we trust
that it is
exaggerated. It would give an average of more than three
thousand deaths a
year. The whole number of names copied from the
English War Records
of prisoners on board the Jersey is about
8,000. This,
however, is an incomplete list. You will in vain search
through its pages
to find the recorded names of many prisoners who
have left well
attested accounts of their captivity on board that
fatal vessel. All
that we can say now is that the number who perished
there is very
great.
As late as 1841 the
bones of many of these victims were still to be
found on the shores
of Walabout Bay, in and around the Navy Yard. On
the 4th of February
of that year some workmen, while engaged in
digging away an
embankment in Jackson Street, Brooklyn, near the Navy
Yard, accidentally
uncovered a quantity of human bones, among which
was a skeleton
having a pair of iron manacles still upon the
wrists. (See
Thompson's History of Long Island, Vol. 1, page 247.)
In a paper
published at Fishkill on the 18th of May, 1783, is the
following card:
"To All Printers, of Public Newspapers:--Tell it to
the world, and let
it be published in every Newspaper throughout
America, Europe,
Asia, and Africa, to the everlasting disgrace and
infamy of the
British King's commanders at New York: That during the
late war it is said
that 11,644 American prisoners have suffered death
by their inhuman,
cruel, savage, and barbarous usage on board the
filthy and
malignant British prison ship called the Jersey, lying at
New York. Britons
tremble, lest the vengeance of Heaven fall on your
isle, for the blood
of these unfortunate victims!
"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 a
Mr. Whitman We have
taken the liberty of retouching it to a slight
degree.
It is well known
that _twenty hogsheads_ of bones were collected
in 1808 from the
shores of the Wallabout, and buried under the
auspices of the
Tammany Society in a vault prepared for the
purpose. These were
but a small part of the remains of the victims of
the prison ships.
Many were, as we have seen, washed into the sea, and
many more were
interred on the shores of New York Harbor, before the
prison ships were
removed to the Wallabout. It will be better that we
should give the
accounts left to us by eye witnesses of the sufferings
on board these
prison ships, and we will therefore quote from the
narrative of John
Van Dyke, who was confined on board the Jersey
before her removal
to the Wallabout.
Captain John Van
Dyke was taken prisoner in May, 1780, at which time
he says: "We
were put on board the prison ship Jersey, anchored off
Fly Market. (New
York City) This ship had been a hospital ship. When I
came on board her
stench was so great, and my breathing this putrid
air--I thought it
would kill me, but after being on board some days I
got used to it, and
as though all was a common smell. * * *
"On board the
Jersey prison ship it was short allowance, so short a
person would think
it was not possible for a man to live on. They
starved the
American prisoners to make them enlist in their service. I
will now relate a
fact. Every man in a mess of six took his daily turn
to get the mess's
provisions. One day I went to the galley and drew a
piece of salt,
boiled pork. I went to our mess to divide it. * * * I
cut each one his
share, and each one eat our day's allowance in one
mouthful of this
salt pork and nothing else. One day called peaday I
took the drawer of
our doctor's chest (Dr. Hodges of Philadelphia) and
went to the galley,
which was the cooking place, with my drawer for a
soup dish. I held
it under a large brass cock, the cook turned it. I
received the
allowance of my mess, and behold! Brown water, and
fifteen floating
peas--no peas on the bottom of my drawer, and this
for six men's
allowance for 24 hours. The peas were all in the bottom
of the kettle. Those left would be taken to New York and, I
suppose,
sold.
"One day in
the week, called pudding day, we would receive three
pounds of damaged
flour, in it would be green lumps such as their men
would not eat, and
one pound of very bad raisins, one third raisin
sticks. We would pick out the sticks, mash the lumps
of flour, put
all with some water
into our drawer, mix our pudding and put it into a
bag and boil it
with a tally tied to it with the number of our
mess. This was a
day's allowance. We, for some time, drew a half pint
of rum for each
man. One day Captain Lard (Laird) who commanded the
ship Jersey, came
on board. As soon as he was on the main deck of the
ship he cried out
for the boatswain. The boatswain arrived and in a
very quick motion,
took off his hat. There being on deck two half
hogshead tubs where
our allowance of rum was mixed into grog, Captain
L., said, 'Have the
prisoners had their allowance of rum today?' 'No,
sir' answered the
boatswain. Captain L. replied, 'Damn your soul, you
rascal, heave it
overboard.'
"The
boatswain, with help, upset the tubs of rum on the middle
deck. The grog rum
run out of the scuppers of the ship into the
river. I saw no
more grog on board. * * * Every fair day a number of
British officers
and sergeants would come on board, form in two ranks
on the quarter
deck, facing inwards, the prisoners in the after part
of the quarter
deck. As the boatswain would call a name, the word
would be 'Pass!' As
the prisoners passed between the ranks officers
and sergeants
stared them in the face. This was done to catch
deserters, and if
they caught nothing the sergeants would come on the
middle deck and cry
out 'Five guineas bounty to any man that will
enter his Majesty's
service!'
"Shortly after
this party left the ship a Hessian party would come on
board, and the
prisoners had to go through the same routine of duty
again.
"From the
Jersey prison ship eighty of us were taken to the pink stern
sloop-of-war
Hunter, Captain Thomas Henderson, Commander. We were
taken there in a
large ship's long boat, towed by a ten-oar barge, and
one other barge
with a guard of soldiers in the rear.
"On board the
ship Hunter we drew one third allowance, and every
Monday we received
a loaf of wet bread, weighing seven pounds for each
mess. This loaf was
from Mr. John Pintard's father, of New York, the
American
Commissary, and this bread, with the allowance of provisions,
we found sufficient
to live on.
"After we had
been on board some time Mr. David Sproat, the British
Commissary of
prisoners, came on board; all the prisoners were ordered
aft; the roll was
called and as each man passed him Mr. Sproat would
ask, 'Are you a
seaman?' The answer was 'Landsman, landsman.' There
were ten landsmen
to one answer of half seaman. When the roll was
finished Mr. Sproat
said to our sea officers, 'Gentlemen, how do you
make out at sea,
for the most part of you are landsmen?'
"Our officers
answered: 'You hear often how we make out. When we meet
our force, or
rather more than our force we give a good account of
them.'
"Mr. Sproat
asked, 'And are not your vessels better manned than
these. Our officers
replied, 'Mr Sproat, we are the best manned out of
the port of Philadelphia.' Mr. Sproat shrugged his shoulders saying,
'I cannot see how
you do it.'"
We do not
understand what John Van Dyke meant by his expression "half
seaman." It is
probable that the sailors among the prisoners pretended
to be soldiers in
order to be exchanged. There was much more
difficulty in
exchanging sailors than soldiers, as we shall see. David
Sproat was the
British Commissary for Naval Prisoners alone. In a
paper published in
New York in April 28th, 1780, appears the following
notice:--"I do
hereby direct all Captains, Commanders, Masters, and
Prize Masters of
ships and other vessels, who bring naval prisoners
into this port,
immediately to send a list of their names to this
office, No. 33 Maiden Lane, where they will receive an
order how to
dispose of them.
"(Signed)
David Sproat."
The Jersey and some
of the other prison ships often had landsmen among
their prisoners, at
least until the last years of the war, when they
were so overcrowded
with sailors, that there must have been scant room
for any one else.
The next prisoner
whose recollections we will consider is Captain
Silas Talbot, who
was confined on board the Jersey in the fall of
1780. He says:
"All her port holes were closed. * * * There were about
1,100 prisoners on
board. There were no berths or seats, to lie down
on, not a bench to
sit on. Many were almost without cloaths. The
dysentery, fever,
phrenzy and despair prevailed among them, and filled
the place with
filth, disgust and horror. The scantiness of the
allowance, the bad
quality of the provisions, the brutality of the
guards, and the
sick, pining for comforts they could not obtain,
altogether
furnished continually one of the greatest scenes of human
distress and misery
ever beheld. It was now the middle of October, the
weather was cool
and clear, with frosty nights, so that the number of
deaths per day was
_reduced to an average of ten_, and this
number was
considered by the survivors a small one, when compared with
the terrible
mortality that had prevailed for three months before. The
human bones and
skulls, yet bleaching on the shore of Long Island, and
daily exposed, by
the falling down of the high bank on which the
prisoners were
buried, is a shocking sight, and manifestly
demonstrates that
the Jersey prison ship had been as destructive as a
field of
battle."
CHAPTER XXVI
THE EXPERIENCE OF
EBENEZER FOX
Ebenezer Fox, a
prisoner on board the Jersey, wrote a little book
about his dreadful
experiences when he was a very old man. The book
was written in
1838, and published by Charles Fox in Boston in
1848. Ebenezer Fox
was born in the East Parish of Roxbury, Mass., in
1763. In the spring
of 1775 he and another boy named Kelly ran away to
sea. Fox shipped as a cabin boy in a vessel
commanded by Captain
Joseph Manchester.
He made several
cruises and returned home. In 1779 he enlisted, going
as a substitute for
the barber to whom he was apprenticed. His company
was commanded by
Captain William Bird of Boston in a regiment under
Colonel Proctor.
Afterwards he signed ship's papers and entered the
naval service on a
twenty gun ship called the Protector, Captain John
F. Williams of
Massachusetts. On the lst of April, 1780, they sailed
for a six months
cruise, and on the ninth of June, 1780, fought the
Admiral Duff until
she took fire and blew up. A short time afterwards
the Protector was
captured by two English ships called the Roebuck and
Mayday.
Fox concealed
fifteen dollars in the crown of his hat, and fifteen
more in the soles
of his shoes.
All the prisoners
were sent into the hold. One third of the crew of
the Protector were
pressed into the British service. The others were
sent to the
Jersey. Evidently this prison ship had
already become
notorious, for Fox
writes: "The idea of being incarcerated in this
floating
pandemonium filled us with horror, but the ideas we had
formed of its
horror fell far short of the reality. * * * The Jersey
was removed from
the East River, and moored with chain cables at the
Wallabout in
consequence of the fears entertained that the sickness
which prevailed
among the prisoners might spread to the shore. * * * I
now found myself in
a loathsome prison, among a collection of the most
wretched and
disgusting looking objects that I ever beheld in human
form.
"Here was a
motley crew, covered with rags and filth; visages pallid
with disease;
emaciated with hunger and anxiety; and hardly retaining
a trace of their
original appearance. Here were men, who had once
enjoyed life while
riding over the mountain wave or roaming through
pleasant fields,
full of health and vigor, now shrivelled by a scanty
and unwholesome
diet, ghastly with inhaling an impure atmosphere,
exposed to
contagion; in contact with disease, and surrounded with the
horrors of
sickness, and death. Here, thought I,
must I linger out
the morning of my
life" (he was seventeen) "in tedious days and
sleepless nights,
enduring a weary and degrading captivity, till death
should terminate my
sufferings, and no friend will know of my
departure.
"A prisoner on
board the 'Old Jersey!' The very thought was
appalling. I could
hardly realize my situation.
"The first
thing we found it necessary to do after our capture was to
form ourselves into
small parties called messes, consisting of six in
each, as previous
to doing this, we could obtain no food. All the
prisoners were
obliged to fast on the first day of their arrival, and
seldom on the
second could they obtain any food in season for cooking
it. * * * All the
prisoners fared alike; officers and sailors received
the same treatment
on board of this old hulk. * * * We were all
'rebels.' The only
distinction known among us was made by the
prisoners
themselves, which was shown in allowing those who had been
officers previous
to their captivity, to congregate in the extreme
afterpart of the
ship, and to keep it exclusively to themselves as
their place of
abode. * * * The prisoners were confined in the two
main decks
below. The lowest dungeon was inhabited
by those prisoners
who were
foreigners, and whose treatment was more severe than that of
the Americans.
"The
inhabitants of this lower region were the most miserable and
disgusting looking
objects that can be conceived. Daily washing in
salt water,
together with their extreme emaciation, caused the skin to
appear like dried
parchment. Many of them remained unwashed for weeks;
their hair long,
and matted, and filled with vermin; their beards
never cut except
occasionally with a pair of shears, which did not
improve their
comeliness, though it might add to their comfort. Their
clothes were mere
rags, secured to their bodies in every way that
ingenuity could
devise.
"Many of these
men had been in this lamentable condition for two
years, part of the
time on board other prison ships; and having given
up all hope of ever
being exchanged, had become resigned to their
situation. These
men were foreigners whose whole lives had been one
continual scene of
toil, hardship, and suffering. Their feelings were
blunted; their
dispositions soured; they had no sympathies for the
world; no home to
mourn for; no friends to lament for their fate. But
far different was
the condition of the most numerous class of
prisoners, composed
mostly of young men from New England, fresh from
home.
"They had
reason to deplore the sudden change in their condition. * *
* The thoughts of
home, of parents, brothers, sisters, and friends,
would crowd upon
their minds, and brooding on what they had been, and
what they were,
their desire for home became a madness. The dismal and
disgusting scene
around; the wretched objects continually in sight;
and 'hope deferred
which maketh the heart sick', produced a state of
melancholy that
often ended in death,--the death of a broken heart."
Fox describes the
food and drink, the prison regulations, deaths, and
burials, just as
they were described by Captain Dring, who wrote the
fullest account of
the Jersey, and from whose memoirs we shall quote
further on. He says
of their shallow graves in the sand of the
Wallabout:
"This was the last resting place of many a son and a
brother,--young and
noble-spirited men, who had left their happy
homes and kind
friends to offer their lives in the service of their
country. * * * Poor
fellows! They suffered more than their
older
companions in
misery. They could not endure their hopeless and
wearisome
captivity:--to live on from day to day, denied the power of
doing anything;
condemned to that most irksome and heart-sickening of
all situations,
utter inactivity; their restless and impetuous
spirits, like caged
lions, panted to be free, and the conflict was too
much for endurance,
enfeebled and worn out as they were with suffering
and
confinement. * * * The fate of many of
these unhappy victims must
have remained
forever unknown to their friends; for in so large a
number, no exact
account could be kept of those who died, and they
rested in a
nameless grave; while those who performed the last sad
rites were hurried
away before their task was half completed, and
forbid to express
their horror and indignation at this insulting
negligence towards
the dead. * * *
"The regular
crew of the Jersey consisted of a Captain, two Mates, a
steward, a cook,
and about twelve sailors. There was likewise on board
a guard of about
thirty soldiers, from the different regiments
quartered on Long
Island, who were relieved by a fresh party every
week.
"The physical
force of the prisoners was sufficient at any time to
take possession of
the ship, but the difficulty was to dispose of
themselves after a
successful attempt. Long Island was in possession
of the British, and
the inhabitants were favorable to the British
cause. To leave the
ship and land on the island, would be followed by
almost certain
detection; and the miseries of our captivity would be
increased by additional
cruelties heaped upon us from the vindictive
feelings of our
oppressors.
"Yet, small as
was the chance for succeeding in the undertaking, the
attempt to escape
was often made, and in not a few instances with
success.
"Our
sufferings were so intolerable, that we felt it to be our duty to
expose ourselves to
almost any risk to obtain our liberty. To remain
on board of the
prison ship seemed to be certain death, and in its
most horrid form;
to be killed, while endeavoring to get away, could
be no worse.
"American
prisoners are proverbial for their ingenuity in devising
ways and means to
accomplish their plans, whether they be devised for
their own comfort
and benefit, or for the purpose of annoying and
tormenting their keepers.
"Although we
were guarded with vigilance yet there did not appear much
system in the
management of the prisoners; for we frequently missed a
whole mess from our
number, while their disappearance was not noticed
by our keepers.
Occasionally a few would be brought back who had been
found in the woods
upon Long Island, and taken up by the Tories.
"Our mess one
day noticed that the mess that occupied the place next
to them were among
the missing. This circumstance led to
much
conjecture and
inquiry respecting the manner in which they had
effected their
escape. By watching the movements of our neighbors we
soon found out the
process necessary to be adopted.
"Any plan
which a mess had formed they kept a secret among their
number, in order to
insure a greater prospect of success. * * * For
the convenience of
the officers of the ship a closet, called the
"round
house", had been constructed under the forecastle, the door of
which was kept
locked. This room was seldom used, there being other
conveniences in the
ship preferable to it.
"Some of the
prisoners had contrived to pick the lock of the door; and
as it was not
discovered the door remained unfastened.
"After we had
missed our neighbor prisoners, and had ascertained to
our satisfaction
their mode of operation, the members of our mess
determined to seize
the first opportunity that offered to attempt our
escape. We selected
a day, about the 15th of August, and made all the
preparations in our
power for ensuring us success in our
undertaking. At
sunset, when the usual cry from the officer of the
guard, 'Down,
rebels, down!' was heard, instead of following the
multitude down the
hatchways, our mess, consisting of six, all
Americans,
succeeded in getting into the 'round house', except
one. The round
house was found too small to contain more than five;
and the sixth man,
whose name, I think, was Putnam of Boston,
concealed himself
under a large tub, which happened to be lying near
the place of our
confinement. The situation of the five,
as closely
packed in the round
house as we could stand and breathe, was so
uncomfortable as to
make us very desirous of vacating it as soon as
possible.
"We remained
thus cooped up, hardly daring to breathe, for fear we
should be heard by
the guard. The prisoners were all below,
and no
noise was heard
above, saving the tramp of the guard as he paced the
deck. It was
customary, after the prisoners were secured below, for
the ship's mate
every night to search above; this, however, was
considered a mere
formality, and the duty was very imperfectly
executed. While we were anxiously awaiting the
completion of this
service, an event
transpired, that we little anticipated, and which
led to our
detection.
"One of the
prisoners, an Irishman, had made his arrangements to
escape the same
evening, and had not communicated with any one on the
subject except a
countryman of his, whom he persuaded to bury him up
in the coal hole,
near the forecastle.
"Whether his
friend covered him faithfully or not, or whether the
Irishman thought
that if he could not see anybody, nobody could see
him, or whether,
feeling uncomfortable in his position, he turned over
to relieve himself,
I know not; but when the mate looked in the coal
hole he espied
something rather whiter than the coal, which he soon
ascertained to be
the Irishman's shoulder. This discovery made the
officer suspicious,
and induced him to make a more thorough search
than usual.
"We heard the
uproar that followed the discovery, and the threats of
the mate that he
would search every damned corner. He soon arrived at
the round house,
and we heard him ask a soldier for the key. Our hopes
and expectations
were a little raised when we heard the soldier reply,
'There is no need
of searching this place, for the door is kept
constantly locked.'
"But the mate
was not to be diverted from his purpose, and ordered the
soldier to get the
key.
"During the
absence of the soldier, we had a little time to reflect
upon the dangers of
our situation; crowded together in a space so
small as not to
admit of motion; with no other protection than the
thickness of a
board; guarded on the outside by about twelve soldiers,
armed with
cutlasses, and the mate, considerably drunk, with a pistol
in each hand,
threatening every moment to fire through;--our feelings
may be more easily
conceived than described. There was but little time
for deliberation;
something must be immediately done. * * * In a
whispered
consultation of some moments, we conceived that the safest
course we could
pursue would be to break out with all the violence we
could exercise,
overcome every obstacle, and reach the quarter-deck.
By this time the
soldier had arrived with the key, and upon applying
it, the door was
found to be unlocked. We now heard our last summons
from the mate, with
imprecations too horrible to be repeated, and
threatening us with
instant destruction if we did not immediately come
out.
"To remain any
longer where we were would have been certain death to
some of us; we
therefore carried our hastily formed plan into
execution. The door
opened outwards, and forming ourselves into a
solid body, we
burst open the door, rushed out pellmell, and making a
brisk use of our
fists, knocked the guard heels over head in all
directions, at the
same time running with all possible speed for the
quarter-deck. As I
rushed out, being in the rear, I received a wound
from a cutlass on
my side, the scar of which remains to this day.
"As nearly all
the guards were prostrated by our unexpected sally, we
arrived at our
destined place, without being pursued by anything but
curses and threats.
"The mate
exercised his authority to protect us from the rage of the
soldiers, who were
in pursuit of us, as soon as they had recovered
from the
prostration into which they had been thrown; and, with the
assistance of the
Captain's mistress, whom the noise had brought upon
deck, and whose
sympathy was excited when she saw we were about to be
murdered: she
placed herself between us and the enraged guard, and
made such an outcry
as to bring the Captain" (Laird) "up, who ordered
the guard to take
their station at a little distance and to watch us
narrowly. We were
all put in irons, our feet being fastened to a long
bar, a guard placed
over us, and in this situation we were left to
pass the night.
"During the
time of the transactions related, our fellow prisoner,
Putnam, remained
quietly under the tub, and heard the noise from his
hiding place. He
was not suffered to remain long in suspense. A
soldier lifted up
the tub, and seeing the poor prisoner, thrust his
bayonet into his
body, just above his hip, and then drove him to the
quarter-deck, to
take his place in irons among us. The blood flowed
profusely from his
wound, and he was soon after sent on board the
hospital ship, and
we never heard anything respecting him afterwards.
"With
disappointed expectations we passed a dreary night. A cold fog,
followed by rain,
came on; to which we were exposed, without any
blankets or
covering to protect us from the inclemency of the
weather. Our
sufferings of mind and body during that horrible night,
exceeded any that I
have ever experienced.
"We were
chilled almost to death, and the only way we could preserve
heat enough in our
bodies to prevent our perishing, was to lie upon
each other by
turns.
"Morning at
last came, and we were released from our fetters. Our
limbs were so stiff
that we could hardly stand. Our fellow prisoners
assisted us below,
and wrapping us in blankets, we were at last
restored to a state
of comparative comfort.
"For
attempting to escape we were punished by having our miserable
allowance reduced
one third in quantity for a month; and we had found
the whole of it
hardly sufficient to sustain life. * * *
"One day a
boat came alongside containing about sixty firkins of
grease, which they
called butter. The prisoners were always
ready to
assist in the
performance of any labor necessary to be done on board
of the ship, as it
afforded some little relief to the tedious monotony
of their lives. On
this occasion they were ready to assist in hoisting
the butter on
board. The firkins were first deposited upon the deck,
and then lowered
down the main hatchway. Some of the
prisoners, who
were the most
officious in giving their assistance, contrived to
secrete a firkin,
by rolling it forward under the forecastle, and
afterwards carrying
it below in their bedding.
"This was
considered as quite a windfall; and being divided among a
few of us, proved a
considerable luxury. It helped to fill up the
pores in our mouldy
bread, when the worms were dislodged, and gave to
the crumbling
particles a little more consistency.
"Several weeks
after our unsuccessful attempt to escape, another one
attended with
better success, was made by a number of the
prisoners. At
sunset the prisoners were driven below, and the main
hatchway was
closed. In this there was a trap-door, large enough for a
man to pass
through, and a sentinel was placed over it with orders to
permit one prisoner
at a time to come up during the night.
"The plan that
had been formed was this:--one of the prisoners should
ascend, and dispose
of the sentinel in such a manner that he should be
no obstacle in the
way of those who were to follow.
"Among the
soldiers was an Irishman who, in consequence of having a
head of hair
remarkable for its curly appearance, and withal a very
crabbed
disposition, had been nicknamed 'Billy the Ram'. He was the
sentinel on duty
this night, for one was deemed sufficient, as the
prisoners were
considered secure when they were below, having no other
place of egress
saving the trap-door, over which the sentinel was
stationed.
"Late in the
night one of the prisoners, a bold, athletic fellow,
ascended upon deck,
and in an artful manner engaged the attention of
Billy the Ram, in
conversation respecting the war; lamenting that he
had engaged in so
unnatural a contest, expressing his intention of
enlisting in the
British service, and requesting Billy's advice
respecting the course
necessary to be pursued to obtain the confidence
of the officers.
"Billy
happened to be in a mood to take some interest in his views,
and showed an
inclination, quite uncommon for him, to prolong the
conversation.
Unsuspicious of any evil design on the part of the
prisoner, and while
leaning carelessly on his gun, Billy received a
tremendous blow
from the fist of his entertainer on the back of his
head, which brought
him to the deck in a state of insensibility.
"As soon as he
was heard to fall by those below, who were anxiously
awaiting the result
of the friendly conversation of their pioneer with
Billy, and were
satisfied that the final knock-out argument had been
given, they began
to ascend, and, one after another, to jump
overboard, to the
number of about thirty.
"The noise
aroused the guard, who came upon deck, where they found
Billy not
sufficiently recovered from the stunning effects of the blow
he had received to
give any account of the transaction. A noise was
heard in the water;
but it was so dark that no object could be
distinguished. The
attention of the guard, however, was directed to
certain spots which
exhibited a luminous appearance, which salt water
is known to assume
in the night when it is agitated, and to these
appearances they
directed their fire, and getting out the boats,
picked out about
half the number that attempted to escape, many of
whom were wounded,
though not one was killed. The rest escaped.
"During the
uproar overhead the prisoners below encouraged the
fugitives, and
expressed their approbation of their proceedings in
three hearty
cheers; for which gratification we suffered our usual
punishment--a short
allowance of our already short and miserable fare.
"For about a
fortnight after this transaction it would have been a
hazardous
experiment to approach near to 'Billy the Ram', and it was a
long time before we
ventured to speak to him, and finally to obtain
from him an account
of the events of the evening.
"Not long
after this another successful attempt to escape was made,
which for its
boldness is perhaps unparalleled in the history of such
transactions.
"One pleasant
morning about ten o'clock a boat came alongside,
containing a number
of gentlemen from New York, who came for the
purpose of
gratifying themselves with a sight of the miserable tenants
of the prison-ship,
influenced by the same kind of curiosity that
induces some people
to travel a great distance to witness an
execution.
"The boat,
which was a beautiful yawl, and sat like a swan upon the
water, was manned
by four oarsmen, with a man at the helm.
Considerable
attention and respect was shown the visitors, the ship's
side being manned
when they showed their intention of coming on board,
and the usual naval
courtesies extended. The gentlemen were
soon on
board; and the crew
of the yawl, having secured her to the forechains
on the larboard
side of the ship, were permitted to ascend the deck.
"A soldier as
usual was pacing with a slow and measured tread the
whole length of the
deck, wheeling round with measured precision, when
he arrived at the
end of his walk; and whether upon this occasion, any
one interested in
his movements had secretly slipped a guinea into his
hand, not to
quicken but to retard his progress, was never known; but
it was evident to
the prisoners that he had never occupied so much
time before in
measuring the distance with his back to the place where
the yawl was
fastened.
"At this time
there were sitting in the forecastle, apparently
admiring the beautiful
appearance of the yawl, four mates and a
captain, who had
been brought on board as prisoners a few days
previous, taken in
some vessel from a southern port.
"As soon as
the sentry had passed these men, in his straightforward
march, they, in a
very quiet manner, lowered themselves down into the
yawl, cut the rope,
and the four mates taking in hand the oars, while
the captain managed
the helm, in less time than I have taken to
describe it, they
were under full sweep from the ship. They plied the
oars with such
vigor that every stroke they took seemed to take the
boat out of the
water. In the meantime the sentry heard nothing and
saw nothing of this
transaction, till he had arrived at the end of his
march, when, in
wheeling slowly round, he could no longer affect
ignorance, or avoid
seeing that the boat was several times its length
from the ship. He
immediately fired; but, whether he exercised his
best skill as a
marksman, or whether it was on account of the boat's
going ahead its whole
length at every pull of the rowers, I could
never exactly
ascertain, but the ball fell harmlessly into the
water. The report
of the gun brought the whole guard out, who blazed
away at the
fugitives, without producing any dimunition in the
rapidity of their
progress.
"By this time
the officers of the ship were on deck with their
visitors; and while
all were gazing with astonishment at the boldness
and effrontery of
the achievement, the guard were firing as fast as
they could load
their guns. When the prisoners gave three cheers to
the yawl's crew, as
an expression of their joy at their success, the
Captain ordered all
of us to be driven below at the point of the
bayonet, and there
we were confined the remainder of the day.
"These five
men escaped, greatly to the mortification of the captain
and officers of the
prison-ship. After this, as long as I
remained a
prisoner, whenever
any visitors came on board, all the prisoners were
driven below, where
they were obliged to remain till the company had
departed."
CHAPTER XXVII
THE EXPERIENCE OF
EBENEZER FOX (CONTINUED)
The miseries of our
condition were continually increasing. The
pestilence on board
spread rapidly; and every day added to our bill of
mortality. The young were its most frequent victims. The
number of
the prisoners was
constantly augmenting, notwithstanding the frequent
and successful
attempts to escape. When we were mustered and called
upon to answer to
our names, and it was ascertained that nearly two
hundred had
mysteriously disappeared, without leaving any information
of their departure,
the officers of the ship endeavored to make amends
for their past
remissness by increasing the rigor of our confinement,
and depriving us of
all hope of adopting any of the means for
liberating
ourselves from our cruel thralldom, so successfully
practiced by many
of our comrades.
"With the hope
that some relief might be obtained to meliorate the
wretchedness of our
situation, the prisoners petitioned General
Clinton, commanding
the British forces in New York, for permission to
send a memorial to
General Washington, describing our condition, and
requesting his
influence in our behalf, that some exchange of
prisoners might be
effected.
"Permission
was obtained, and the memorial was sent. * * * General
Washington wrote to
Congress, and also to the British Commissary of
Naval prisoners,
remonstrating with him, deprecating the cruel
treatment of the
Americans, and threatening retaliation.
"The long
detention of American sailors on board of British
prison-ships was to
be attributed to the little pains taken by our
countrymen to
retain British subjects who were taken prisoner on the
ocean during the
war. Our privateers captured many British seamen,
who, when willing
to enlist in our service, as was generally the case,
were received on
board of our ships. Those who were brought into port
were suffered to go
at large; for in the impoverished condition of the
country, no state
or town was willing to subject itself to the expence
of maintaining
prisoners in a state of confinement; they were
permitted to
provide for themselves. In this way the number of British
seamen was too
small for a regular and equal exchange. Thus the
British seamen,
after their capture, enjoyed the blessings of liberty,
the light of the
sun, and the purity of the atmosphere, while the poor
American sailors
were compelled to drag out a miserable existence amid
want and distress,
famine and pestilence. As every principle of
justice and
humanity was disregarded by the British in their treatment
of the prisoners,
so likewise was every moral and legal right violated
in compelling them
to enter into their service.
"We had
obtained some information in relation to an expected draught
that would soon be
made upon the prisoners to fill up a complement of
men that were
wanted for the service of his Majesty's fleet.
"One day in
the last part of August our fears for the dreaded event
were realized. A
British officer with a number of soldiers came on
board. The
prisoners were all ordered on deck, placed on the larboard
gangway, and
marched in single file round to the quarter-deck, where
the officers stood
to inspect them, and select such ones as suited
their fancies
without any reference to the rights of the prisoners. *
* * We continued to
march round in solemn and melancholy processsion,
till they had
selected from among our number about three hundred of
the ablest, nearly
all of whom were Americans, and they were directed
to go below under a
guard, to collect together whatever things they
wished to take
belonging to them. They were then driven
into the
boats, waiting
alongside, and left the prison ship, not to enjoy their
freedom, but to be
subjected to the iron despotism, and galling
slavery of a
British man-of-war; to waste their lives in a foreign
service; and toil
for masters whom they hated. Such, however, were the
horrors of our
situation as prisoners, and so small was the prospect
of relief, that we
almost envied the lot of those who left the ship to
go into the service
of the enemy.
"That the
reader may not think I have given an exaggerated account of
our sufferings on
board the Jersey, I will here introduce some facts
related in the
histories of the Revolutionary War. I introduce them as
an apology for the
course that I and many of my fellow citizens
adopted to obtain
temporary relief from our sufferings.
"The prisoners
captured by Sir William Howe in 1776 amounted to
several thousands.
* * * The privates were confined in prisons,
deserted churches,
and other large open buildings, entirely unfit for
the habitations of
human beings, in severe winter weather, without any
of the most
ordinary comforts of life.
"To the
indelible and everlasting disgrace of the British name, these
unfortunate victims
of a barbarity more befitting savages than
gentlemen belonging
to a nation boasting itself to be the most
enlightened and
civilized of the world,--many hundreds of them,
perished from want
of proper food and attention.
"The cruelty
of their inhuman jailors was not terminated by the death
of these wretched
men, as so little care was taken to remove the
corpses that seven
dead bodies have been seen at one time lying in one
of the buildings in
the midst of their living fellow-prisoners, who
were perhaps
envying them their release from misery. Their food * * *
was generally that
which was rejected by the British ships as unfit to
be eaten by the
sailors, and unwholesome in the highest degree, as
well as disgusting
in taste and appearance.
"In December,
1776, the American board of war, after procuring such
evidence as
convinced them of the truth of their statements, reported
that: 'There were
900 privates and 300 officers of the American army,
prisoners in the
city of New York, and 500 privates and 50 officers in
Philadelphia. That
since the beginning of October, all these officers
and privates had
been confined in prisons or in the provost.
That,
from the best
evidence the subject could admit of, the general
allowance of the
prisoners did not exceed four ounces of meat a day,
and that often so
damaged as to be uneatable. That it had been a
common practice of
the British to keep their prisoners four or five
days without a
morsel of meat and thus tempt them to enlist to save
their lives.'
"Many were
actually starved to death, in hope of making them enroll
themselves in the
British army. The American sailors when
captured
suffered even more
than the soldiers, for they were confined on board
prison ships in
great numbers, and in a manner which showed that the
British officers
were willing to treat fellow beings, whose only crime
was love of
liberty, worse than the vilest animals; and indeed in
every respect, with
as much cruelty as is endured by the miserable
inhabitants of the
worst class of slave ships. * * * In the course of
the war it has been
asserted on good evidence, that 11,000 prisoners
died on board the
Jersey. * * * These unfortunate beings died in agony
in the midst of
their fellow sufferers, who were obliged to witness
their tortures,
without the power of relieving their dying countrymen,
even by cooling
their parched lips with a drop of cold water, or a
breath of fresh
air; and, when the last breath had left the emaciated
body, they
sometimes remained for hours in close contact with the
corpse, without
room to shrink from companions that Death had made so
horrible, and when
at last the dead were removed, they were sent in
boats to the shore,
and so imperfectly buried that long after the war
was ended, their
bones lay whitening in the sun on the beach of Long
Island, a lasting
memorial of British cruelty, so entirely unwarranted
by all the laws of
war or even common humanity.
"They could
not even pretend that they were retaliating, for the
Americans
invariably treated their prisoners with kindness, and as
though they were
fellow men. All the time that these cruelties were
performed those who
were deprived of every comfort and necessary were
constantly
entreated to leave the American service, and induced to
believe, while kept
from all knowledge of public affairs, that the
republican cause
was hopeless; that all engaged in it would meet the
punishment of
traitors to the king, and that all their prospect of
saving their lives,
or escaping from an imprisonment worse than death
to young and
high-spirited men, as most of them were, would be in
joining the British
army, where they would be sure of good pay and
quick promotion.
"These were
the means employed by our enemies to increase their own
forces, and
discourage the patriots, and it is not strange they were
successful in many
instances. High sentiments of honor could not well
exist in the poor,
half-famished prisoners, who were denied even water
to quench their
thirst, or the privilege of breathing fresh, pure air,
and cramped, day
after day, in a space too small to admit of
exercising their
weary limbs, with the fear of wasting their lives in
a captivity, which
could not serve their country, nor gain honor to
themselves.
"But worse
than all was the mortifying consideration that, after they
had suffered for
the love of their country, more than sailors in
active service,
they might die in these horrible places, and be laid
with their
countrymen on the shores of Long Island, or some equally
exposed spot,
without the rites of burial, and their names never be
heard of by those
who, in future ages, would look back to the roll of
patriots, who died
in defence of liberty, with admiration and respect,
while, on the
contrary, by dissembling for a time, they might be able
to regain a place
in the service so dear to them, and in which they
were ready to
endure any hardship or encounter any danger.
"Of all the
prisons, on land or water, for the confinement of the
Americans, during
the Revolutionary War, the Old Jersey was
acknowledged to be
the worst; such an accumulation of horrors was not
to be found in any
other one, or perhaps in all collectively.
"The very name
of it struck terror into the sailor's heart, and caused
him to fight more
desperately, to avoid being made a captive.
Suffering as we
did, day after day, with no prospect of relief, our
numbers continually
augmenting, * * * can it be thought strange that
the younger part of
the prisoners, to whom confinement seemed worse
than death, should
be tempted to enlist into the British service;
especially when, by
so doing, it was probable that some opportunity
would be offered to
desert? We were satisfied that death would soon
put an end to our
sufferings if we remained prisoners much longer, yet
when we discussed
the expediency of seeking a change in our condition,
which we were
satisfied could not be worse under any circumstances,
and it was proposed
that we should enter the service of King George,
our minds revolted
at the idea, and we abandoned the intention.
"In the midst
of our distresses, perplexities, and troubles of this
period, we were not
a little puzzled to know how to dispose of the
vermin that would
accumulate upon our persons, notwithstanding all our
attempts at
cleanliness. To catch them was a very easy task, but to
undertake to
deprive each individual captive of life, as rapidly as
they could have
been taken, would have been a more herculean task for
each individual
daily, than the destruction of 3000 Philistines by
Sampson of old. To
throw them overboard would have been but a small
relief, as they
would probably add to the impurities of the boiler, by
being deposited in
it the first time it was filled up for cooking our
unsavory mess. What
then was to be done with them? A general
consultation was
held, and it was determined to deprive them of their
liberty. This being
agreed upon, the prisoners immediately went to
work, for their
comfort and amusement, to make a liberal contribution
of those migratory
creatures, who were compelled to colonize for a
time within the
boundaries of a large snuff box appropriated for the
purpose. There they lay, snugly ensconced, of all
colors, ages, and
sizes, to the
amount of some hundreds, waiting for orders.
"British
recruiting officers frequently came on board, and held out to
the prisoners
tempting offers to enlist in his Majesty's service; not
to fight against
their own country, but to perform garrison duty in
the island of
Jamaica.
"One day an
Irish officer came on board for this purpose, and not
meeting with much
success among the prisoners who happened to be on
deck, he descended
below to repeat his offers. He was a remarkably
tall man, and was
obliged to stoop as he passed along between
decks. The
prisoners were disposed for a frolic, and kept the officer
in their company
for some time, flattering him with expectations, till
he discovered their
insincerity, and left them in no very pleasant
humor. As he passed
along, bending his body and bringing his broad
shoulders to nearly
a horizontal position, the idea occurred to our
minds to furnish
him with some recruits from the colony in the snuff
box. A favorable
opportunity presented, the cover of the box was
removed, and the
whole contents discharged upon the red-coated back of
the officer. Three
cheers from the prisoners followed the migration,
and the officer
ascended to the deck, unconscious of the number and
variety of the
recruits he had obtained without the formality of an
enlistment. The
captain of the ship, suspecting that some joke had
been practised, or
some mischief perpetrated, from the noise below,
met the officer at
the head of the gangway, and seeing the vermin
crawling up his
shoulders, and aiming at his head, with the instinct
peculiar to them,
exclaimed, 'Hoot mon! what's the maitter wi' your
back!' * * * By this time many of them in their
wanderings, had
travelled from the
rear to the front, and showed themselves, to the
astonishment of the
officer. He flung off his coat, in a
paroxysm of
rage, which was not
allayed by three cheers from the prisoners on
deck. Confinement
below, with a short allowance, was our punishment
for this
gratification.
"From some
information we had obtained we were in daily expectation of
a visit from the
British recruiting officers, and from the summary
method of their
procedure, no one felt safe from the danger of being
forced into their
service. Many of the prisoners thought it would be
better to enlist
voluntarily, as it was probable that afterwards they
would be permitted
to remain on Long Island, preparatory to their
departure to the
West Indies, and during that time some opportunity
would be offered
for their escape to the Jersey shore. * * * Soon
after we had formed
this desperate resolve a recruiting officer came
on board to enlist
men for the 88th Regiment to be stationed at
Kingston, in the
island of Jamaica. * * * The recruiting officer
presented his
papers for our signature. We hesitated, we stared at
each other, and
felt we were about to do a deed of which we were
ashamed, and which
we might regret. Again we heard the tempting
offers, and again
the assurance that we should not be called upon to
fight against our
government or country, and with the hope that we
should find an
opportunity to desert, of which it was our firm
intention to avail
ourselves when offered,--with such hopes,
expectations, and
motives, we signed the papers, and became soldiers
in his Majesty's
service,
"How often did
we afterwards lament that we had ever lived to see this
hour? How often did
we regret that we were not in our wretched prison
ship again, or
buried in the sand at the Wallabout!"
There were twelve
of the prisoners who left the Jersey with Ebenezer
Fox. They were at
first taken to Long Island and lodged in barns, but
so vigilantly were
they guarded that they found it impossible to
escape. They were
all sent to Kingston, and Fox was allowed to resume
his occupation as a
barber, much patronized by the officers stationed
at that post. He
was soon allowed the freedom of the city, and
furnished with a
pass to go about it as much as he wished. At last, in
company with four
other Americans, he escaped, and after many
adventures the
party succeeded in reaching Cuba, by means of a small
sailing boat which
they pressed into service for that purpose. From
Cuba they took
passage in a small vessel for St. Domingo, and dropped
anchor at Cape
Francois, afterwards called Cape Henri.
There they
went on board the
American frigate, Flora, of 32 guns, commanded by
Captain Henry
Johnson, of Boston.
The vessel soon
sailed for France and took several prizes. It finally
went up the Garonne
to Bordeaux, where it remained nine months. In the
harbor of Bordeaux
were about six hundred vessels bearing the flags of
various nations.
Here they remained until peace was proclaimed, when
Fox procured
service on board an American brig lying at Nantes, and
set sail for home
in April, 1783.
At length he again
reached his mother's house at Roxbury, after an
absence of about
three years. His mother, at first, did not recognize
him. She
entertained him as a stranger, until he made himself known,
and then her joy
was great, for she had long mourned him as lost.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE CASE OF
CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS
Christopher Hawkins
was born in Providence, Rhode Island, in
1764. When he was
in his thirteenth year he sailed on board an
American privateer
as a cabin boy. The privateer was a schooner,
called the Eagle,
commanded by Captain Potter. Taken prisoner by the
British, Hawkins
was sent on board the Asia, an old transport ship,
but was soon taken
off this vessel, then used for the confinement of
American prisoners,
and sent on board a frigate, the Maidstone, to
serve as a waiter
to the British officers on board. He remained on
board the Maidstone
a year. At the end of that time he was allowed a
good deal of
liberty. He and another boy were sent on shore to New
York with a
message, managed to elude the sentinels, and escaped first
to Long Island, and
afterwards returned home to Providence.
About 1781 he again
went on board a privateer under Captain Whipple,
was again captured,
and this time he was sent to the Jersey. He
describes the
condition of the prisoners on their way in a transport
to this fearful
prison ship. They were so crowded together that they
could scarcely
move, yet they all joined in singing a patriotic song
every stanza of
which ended with the words:
"For America
and all her sons forever will shine!"
They were on board
this transport three or four days unable to sit or
lie down for want
of room. When at last they reached the Jersey they
found 800 prisoners
on board. Many of these poor wretches would become
sick in the night
and die before day. Hawkins was obliged to lie down
to rest only twenty
feet from the gangway, and in the path of the
prisoners who would
run over him to get on the upper deck. He
describes the
condition of these men as appalling.
"Near
us," he writes, "was a guard ship and hospital ship, and along
the shore a line of
sentinels at regular intervals."
Yet he determined to
escape. Many did so; and many were murdered in
the attempt. A mess
of six had just met a dreadful fate. One of them
became terrified
and exclaimed as soon as he touched the water, "O
Lord, I shall be
drowned!" The guard turned out, and murdered five of
the poor
wretches. The sixth managed to hide, and
held on by the
flukes of the
anchor with nothing but his nose above water.
Early in
the morning he
climbed up the anchor over the bow of the ship to the
forecastle, and
fled below. A boy named Waterman and
Hawkins
determined to drop
through a port-hole, and endeavor to reach Long
Island by swimming.
He thus describes the adventure:
"The
thunder-storm was opportune to our design, for having previously
obtained from the
cook's room an old axe and crow-bar from the upper
deck for the
purpose, we concealed them till an opportunity should
offer for their
use. We took advantage of the peals of thunder in a
storm that came
over us in the afternoon to break one of the gun ports
on the lower deck,
which was strongly barred with iron and bolts.
* *
* When a peal of
thunder roared we worked with all our might with the
axe and crow-bar
against the bars and bolts. When the peals subsided
we ceased, without
our blows being heard by the British, until another
peal commenced. We
then went to work again, and so on, until our work
was completed to
our liking. The bars and bolts, after we had knocked
them loose, were
replaced so as not to draw the attention of our
British gentry if
they should happen to visit the lower deck before
our departure. We
also hung some old apparel over and around the
shattered gunport
to conceal any marks.
"Being thus
and otherwise prepared for our escape, the ship was
visited by our
Captain Whipple the next day after we had broken the
gun-port. To him we
communicated our intention and contemplated means
of escape. He
strongly remonstrated against the design. We told him we
should start the
ensuing evening. Captain Whipple answered:
"'How do you
think of escaping?'
"I answered,
'By swimming to that point,' at the same time pointing to
a place then in our
view on Long Island, in a northeasterly direction
from the prison
ship. We must do this to avoid the sentinels who were
stationed in the
neighborhood of the ship.
"'What!' said
Captain Whipple, 'Do you think of swimming to that
point?'
"'Yes, we
must, to avoid the sentinels,' I answered.
"'Well,' said
Captain Whipple, 'Give it up, It is only throwing your
lives away, for
there is not a man on earth who can swim from this
ship to that point
as cold as the water is now. Why, how far do you
think it is?'
"'Why,' I
answered, 'Waterman and myself have estimated the distance
at a mile and a
half.'
"'Yes,' said he,
'It's all of two and a half miles. You
cannot
measure across as
well as I can. So you had better give it up, for I
have encouragement
of getting home next week, and if I do, I will make
it my whole
business to get you all exchanged immediately.'
"Altho'
Waterman was several years my senior in age, the conversation
was carried on
between Captain Whipple and myself for the reason that
Captain W. was more
acquainted with me than with Waterman, but
Waterman was
present." (Captain Whipple was captured five times during
the Revolution,
each time on his own vessel.)
"His advice
had great weight on our minds, but did not shake our
purpose. We had not
been on board the Old Jersey more than one hour
before we began to
plot our escape. We had been only three days on
board when we left
it forever. We had been on board long enough to
discover the awful
scenes which took place daily in this 'floating
hell.'
"Our
preparations for leaving were completed by procuring a piece of
rope from an old
cable that was stretched under the fo'castle of the
ship, * * * and
wound around the cable to preserve it. We had each of
us packed our
wearing apparel in a knapsack for each, made on board
the Old Jersey. I
gave some of my apparel to the two Smiths. I stowed
in my knapsack a
thick woolen sailor jacket, well lined, a pair of
thick pantaloons,
one vest, a pair of heavy silver shoe buckles, two
silk handkerchiefs,
four silver dollars, not forgetting a junk bottle
of rum, which we
had purchased on board at a dear rate. Waterman had
stowed his apparel
and other articles in his knapsack. Mine was very
heavy. It was
fastened to my back with two very strong garters,
passing over my
shoulders, and under each arm, and fastened with a
string to my breast,
bringing my right and left garter in contact near
the centre.
"Thus equipt
we were ready to commit ourselves to the watery element,
and to our graves,
as many of our hardy fellow prisoners
predicted. The
evening was as good an one as we could desire at that
season of the year,
the weather was mild and hazy, and the night
extremely dark.
"It was
arranged between Waterman and myself that after leaving the
ship we should be
governed in our course by the lights on board the
ships and the
responses of the sentinels on shore, and after arriving
on shore to repair
near a dwelling house which we could see from the
Old Jersey in the
day time, and spend the balance of the night in a
barn, but a few
rods from the dwelling.
"Waterman was
the first to leave the ship through the broken-open
gun-port, and
suspended to the rope by his hands, and at the end
behind him (it was
held) by several of our fellow prisoners whom we
were leaving behind
us, and with whom we affectionately parted with
reciprocal good
wishes. He succeeded in gaining the water and in
leaving the ship
without discovery from the British. It had been
agreed, if
detection was about to take place, that he should be
received again into
the ship. I had agreed to follow him in one minute
in the same manner.
I left and followed in half that time, and
succeeded in
leaving the ship without giving the least alarm to those
who had held us in
captivity.
"I kept along
close to the side of the ship until I gained the stern,
and then left the
ship. This was all done very slowly, sinking my body
as deep in the
water as possible, without stopping my course, until I
was at such a
distance from her that my motions in the water would not
create attention
from those on board. After gaining a suitable
distance from the
ship, I hailed Waterman three times. He did not
answer me. * * * I
have never seen him since he left the Old Jersey to
this day. His fate
and success I have since learned from James
Waterman, one of
his brothers.
"In the
meantime I kept on my course without thinking that any
accident would
befall him, as I knew him to be an excellent swimmer,
and no fainthearted
or timid fellow.
"I could take
my course very well from the light reflected from the
stern lanthorns of
the prison, guards, and hospital ships, and also
from the responses
of the sentinels on shore; in the words, 'All's
well.' These
responses were repeated every half hour on board the
guard ship, and by
the sentinels. * * * These repetitions
served me
to keep the time I
was employed in reaching the shore;--no object
occupied my mind
during this time so much as my friend Waterman, if I
may except my own
success in getting to land in safety.
"I flattered
myself I should find him on shore or at the barn we had
agreed to occupy
after we might gain it. After I had been swimming
nearly or quite two
hours my knapsack had broken loose from my back,
from the wearing
off of the garters under my arms, in consequence of
the friction in
swimming. * * * This occurrence did not
please me
much. I endeavored to retain my knapsack by putting
it under one arm,
* * * but soon
found that this impeded my progress, and led me from my
true course. * * *
By this time I had become much chilled, and
benumbed from cold,
but could swim tolerably well. * * * I hesitated
whether or not to
retain my knapsack longer in my possession, or part
from it forever, I
soon determined on the latter, and sent it
adrift. In this
balancing state of mind and subsequent decision I was
cool and self
collected as perhaps at any time in my life. * * * I now
soon found I was
close in with the shore. * * * I swam
within twelve
feet of the shore
before I could touch bottom, and in so doing I found
I could not stand,
I was so cold * * * but I moved around in shoal
water until I found
I could stand, then stept on shore. * * * I had
not sent my clothes
adrift more than twenty-five minutes or so before
striking the shore.
I was completely naked except for a small hat on
my head which I had
brought from the Old Jersey. What a situation was
this, without
covering to hide my naked body, in an enemy's country,
without food or
means to obtain any, and among Tories more unrelenting
than the
devil,--more perils to encounter and nothing to aid me but
the interposition
of heaven! Yet I had gained an important portion of
my enterprise: I
had got on land, after swimming in the water two
hours and a half,
and a distance of perhaps two miles and a half."
Hawkins at last
found the barn and slept in it the rest of the night,
but not before
falling over a rock in the darkness, and bruising his
naked body
severely. Next morning a black girl came into the barn,
apparently hunting
for eggs, but he did not dare reveal himself to
her. He remained
there all day, and endeavored to milk the cows, but
they were afraid of
a naked stranger. He left the place in the night
and travelled east.
In a field he found some overripe water melons,
but they were
neither wholesome nor palatable. After wandering a long
time in the rain he
came to another barn, and in it he slept soundly
until late the next
day. Nearly famished he again wandered on and
found in an orchard
a few half rotten pears. Near by was a potato
patch which he
entered hoping to get some of them. Here a young woman,
who had been
stooping down digging potatoes, started up. "I was, of
course," he
continues, "naked, my head excepted. She was, or appeared
to be, excessively
frightened, and ran towards a house, screeching and
screaming at every
step." Hawkins ran in the other direction, and got
safely away. At
last the poor boy found another barn, and lay, that
night, upon a heap
of flax. After sunrise next morning he concluded to
go on his way. "I could see the farmers at their labor
in the fields.
I then concluded to
still keep on my course, and go to some of these
people then in
sight. I was, by this time, almost worn out with
hunger. I slowly
approached two tall young men who were gathering
garden sauce. They
soon discovered me and appeared astonished at my
appearance, and
began to draw away from me, but I spoke to them in the
following
words:--'Don't be afraid of me: I am a human being!' They
then made a halt
and inquired of me, 'Are you scared?' 'No,' said
I. They then
advanced slowly towards me, and inquired, 'How came you
here naked?'
"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 the
neighbors, and he
would go and consult with his mother what had best
be done. He soon returned, bringing two large pieces
of bread and
butter and a decent
pair of pantaloons. He then told him to go to the
side of the barn
and wait there for his mother, but not to allow
himself to be
seen. The boys' mother came out to speak
to him with a
shirt on her arm.
As he incautiously moved around the side of the barn
to meet her, she
exclaimed, "For God's sake don't let that black woman
see you!" A
slave was washing clothes near the back door of the farm
house. The poor
woman explained to Hawkins that this negress would
betray him,
"For she is as big a devil as any of the king's folks, and
she will bring me
out, and then we should all be put in the provost
and die there, for
my husband was put there more than two years ago,
and rotted and died
there not more than two weeks since."
The poor woman wept
as she told her story, and the escaped prisoner
wept with her. This
woman and her two sons were Dutch, and their house
was only nine miles
from Brooklyn ferry. She now directed the boy to a
house at Oyster Bay
where she said there was a man who would assist
him to escape.
After running many
risks he found the house at last, but the woman who
answered his knock
told him that her husband was away and when he
explained who he
was she became very angry, and said that it was her
duty to give him
up. So he ran away from her, and at last fell into
the hands of a
party of British, who recaptured him, and declared that
they would send him
immediately back to the prison ship. They were
quartered in a
house near Oyster Bay, and here they locked him in a
room, and he was
told to lie down on some straw to sleep, as it was
now night. In the
night the fleas troubled him so much that he was
very restless. A
sentinel had been placed to guard him, and when this
wretch heard him
moving in the dark he exclaimed, "Lie still, G--d---
you," and
pricked him several times with his bayonet, so that the poor
boy felt the fresh
blood running down his body. He begged the sentinel
to spare his life,
declaring that it was hard he should be killed
merely because the
fleas had made him restless. He now did not dare to
move, and was
obliged to endure the attacks the fleas and the
stiffness of his
wounds in perfect silence until the sentinel was
relieved. The next
sentinel was kind and humane and seemed to
compassionate his
sufferings. He said that some men were natural
brutes, and seemed
to take an interest in the boy, but could do little
for him. At daylight he was sent to the quarters of a
Tory colonel a
mile from the guard
room. The colonel was a tall man of fine
appearance, who
examined him, and then said he must be sent back to
the Jersey. The poor lad was now left in an unlocked room
on the
ground floor of the
colonel's house. He was given his breakfast, and a
mulatto man was set
to guard him. Now there was a pantry opening into
this room, and a
negro girl, who appeared very friendly with the
mulatto, called him
to eat his breakfast in this pantry. The mulatto,
while eating, would
look out every few minutes. Just after one of
these inspections
the boy got up softly, with his shoes in his hands,
stepped across the
room, out at the back door, and concealed himself
in a patch of
standing hemp. From thence he made his
way into an
orchard, and out
into a wood lot. Here he hid himself and remained
quiet for several
hours, and although he heard several persons talking
near him, he was
not pursued. At last he stole out, walked about six
miles, and at night
fall entered a barn and slept there. He was in
rather better case
than before his recapture, for a doctor belonging
to the British
service had taken pity on him the night before, and had
furnished him with
warm clothes, shoes, and a little money.
Next morning a
woman who lived in a small house near the road gave him
some bread and
milk. The time of the year was autumn, it was a day or
two before
Cornwallis's surrender at Yorktown. He now very fortunately
met an acquaintance
named Captain Daniel Havens. He was an uncle of a
boy named John
Sawyer, with whom young Hawkins had run away from New
York some years
before. Through the agency of this old friend Hawkins
got on board a
smuggler in the night and finally reached home in
safety.
Christopher
Hawkins's account of the Old Jersey is not so reliable as
that of some others
who were among her inmates. He was only on board
that vessel three
days, but in that time he saw enough to decide him
to risk death in
the attempt to escape rather than remain any longer
on board of her. He
declares that: "The cruel and unjustifiable
treatment of the
prisoners by the British soon produced the most
demoralizing
effects upon them. Boxing was tolerated without
stint.... After I
left the ship an American vessel came into the port
of New York as a
cartel for the exchange of prisoners....
A ship's
mate was so
fortunate as to be one of the exchanged. He had a large
chest on board,
and, as privately as he could, he put the cabin boy
into the chest,
locked him in, and carried him on board the cartel. A
prisoner named
Spicer had seen the boy put into the chest, and after
he had been
conveyed on board the cartel, Spicer communicated the
affair to the
commanding officer on board the Jersey. The cartel was
immediately
boarded, as she had not yet left the port, and the boy was
found and brought
back. Spicer paid for his treachery with
his
life. The prisoners
knocked him down the hatchway, when they were
going down for the
night; they then fell upon him, cut off his ears,
and mangled him in
a shocking manner, so that he died in a day or
two."
This event occured
after he left the ship, according to his own
narrative. The same
story is told in a different way by an eye witness
of undoubted
veracity. He says that the prisoners
were so incensed
against Spicer that
they determined to kill him. For this purpose some
of them held him,
while another was about to cut his throat, when the
guards, hearing the
uproar, rushed down the hatchway, and rescued him.
Hawkins also says:
"I one day observed a prisoner on the forecastle of
the ship, with his
shirt in his hands, having stripped it from his
body, deliberately
picking the vermin from the pleats and putting them
in his mouth. * * *
I stepped very near the man and commenced a
conversation with
him. He said he had been on board two years and a
half, or eighteen
months. He had completely lost count of time, was a
skeleton and nearly
naked. This was only one case from perhaps a
hundred
similar. This man appeared in tolerable
health as to body,
his emaciation
excepted. * * * The discipline of the prisoners by the
British was in many
respects of the most shocking and appalling
character. The roll
of the prisoners, as I was informed, was called
every three months,
unless a large acquisiton of prisoners should
render it necessary
more often. The next day after our crew were put
on board the roll
was called, and the police regulations of the ship
were read. I heard
this. One of the new regulations was to the effect
that every captive
trying to get away should suffer instant death, and
should not even be
taken on board alive."
It appears that
David Laird commanded the Old Jersey from 1778 until
early in the year
1781. He was then relieved of the command, and this
office was given to
a man named John Sporne, or Spohn, until the 9th
of April, 1783,
when all the prisoners remaining in her were released,
and she was
abandoned. The dread of contagion kept visitors aloof. She
was still moored in
the mud of the Wallabout by chain cables, and
gradually sank
lower and lower. There is a beam of her preserved as a
curiosity at the
Naval Museum at Brooklyn.
David Laird, the
Scotchman who commanded her until the early part of
1781, returned to
New York after the peace of 1783 as captain of a
merchant ship, and
moored his vessel at or near Peck's Slip. A number
of persons who had
been prisoners on board the Jersey, and had
suffered by his
cruelty, assembled on the wharf to receive him, but he
deemed it prudent
to remain on ship-board during the short time his
vessel was there.
It is in the
recollections of Ebenezer Fox that we have the only
mention ever made
of a woman on board that dreadful place, the Old
Jersey, and
although she may have been and probably was an abandoned
character, yet she
seems to have been merciful, and unwilling to see
the prisoners who
were attempting to escape, butchered before her
eyes. It is indeed
to be hoped that no other woman ever set foot in
that terrible place
to suffer with the prisoners, and yet there are a
few women's names
in the list of these wretched creatures given in the
appendix to this
book. It is most likely, however, that these were
men, and that their
feminine appellations were nicknames. [Footnote:
One is named Nancy
and one Bella, etc.]
CHAPTER XXIX
TESTIMONY OF
PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
We must again quote
from Ebenezer Fox, whose description of the
provisions dealt
out to the prisoners on board the prison ships shall
now be given.
"The prisoners
received their mess rations at nine in the morning. * *
* All our food
appeared to be damaged. The bread was mostly mouldy,
and filled with
worms. It required considerable rapping upon the deck,
before these worms
could be dislodged from their lurking places in a
biscuit. As for the
pork, we were cheated out of it more than half the
time, and when it
was obtained one would have judged from its motley
hues, exhibiting
the consistence and appearance of variegated soap,
that it was the
flesh of the porpoise or sea hog, and had been an
inhabitant of the
ocean, rather than a sty. * * * The
flavor was so
unsavory that it
would have been rejected as unfit for the stuffing of
even Bologna
sausages. The provisions were generally damaged, and from
the imperfect
manner in which they were cooked were about as
indigestible as
grape shot. The flour and oatmeal was
often sour, and
when the suet was
mixed with the flour it might be nosed half the
length of the ship.
The first view of the beef would excite an idea of
veneration for its
antiquity, * * * its color was a dark mahagony, and
its solidity would
have set the keenest edge of a broad axe at
defiance to cut
across the grain, though like oakum it could be pulled
to pieces, one way,
in strings, like rope yarn. * * * It was so
completely
saturated with salt that after having been boiled in water
taken from the sea,
it was found to be considerably freshened by the
process. * * * Such
was our food, but the quality was not all of which
we had to complain.
* * * The cooking was done in a great copper
vessel. * * * The
Jersey, from her size, and lying near the shore, was
embedded in the
mud, and I don't recollect seeing her afloat the whole
time I was a
prisoner. All the filth that accumulated among upwards of
a thousand men was
daily thrown overboard, and would remain there
until carried away
by the tide. The impurity of the water may be
easily conceived,
and in that water our meat was boiled. It will be
recollected, too,
that the water was salt, which caused the inside of
the copper to be
corroded to such a degree that it was lined with a
coat of verdigris.
Meat thus cooked must, in some degree, be poisoned,
and the effects of
it were manifest in the cadaverous countenances of
the emaciated
beings who had remained on board for any length of time.
"* * * We
passed the night amid the accumulated horrors of sighs and
groans; of foul
vapor; a nauseous and putrid atmosphere, in a stifling
and almost
suffocating heat. * * * Little sleep could be enjoyed, for
the vermin were so
horribly abundant that all the personal cleanliness
we could practice
would not protect us from their attacks."
The public papers
of the day often contained accounts of the cruelties
practiced upon the
prisoners on the ships. In the _Pennsylvania
Packet_ of
Sept. 4th, 1781, there is an extract
from a letter
written by a
prisoner whose name is not given.
"EXTRACT FROM
A LETTER DATED ON BOARD THE JERSEY (VULGARLY CALLED
HELL) PRISON SHIP
"New York
August 10th 1781
"There is
nothing but death or entering into the British service
before me. Our
ship's company is reduced by death and entering into
the British service
to the small number of 19. * * * I am not able to
give you even the
outlines of my exile; but this much I will inform
you, that we bury
6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 in a day. We have 200 more
sick and falling
sick every day; the sickness is the yellow fever,
small pox, and in
short everything else that can be mentioned."
"New London.
Conn. March 3rd. 1782. Sunday last a flag ship returned
from New York which
brought twenty Americans who had been a long time
on board a prison
ship. About 1,000 of our countrymen remain in the
prison ships at New
York, great part of whom have been in close
confinement for
more than six months, and in the most deplorable
condition: many of
them seeing no prospect of release are entering
into the British
service to elude the contagion with which the ships
are fraught."
EXTRACT OF A LETTER
WRITTEN ON BOARD THE PRISON SHIP JERSEY, APRIL
26TH, 1782.
"I am sorry to
write you from this miserable place. I can assure you
that since I have
been here we have had only twenty men exchanged,
although we are in
number upwards of 700, exclusive of the sick in the
Hospital ships, who
died like sheep; therefore my intention is, if
possible, to enter
on board some merchant or transport vessel, as it
is impossible for
so many men to keep alive in one vessel."
"Providence.
May 25th 1782. Sunday last a flag of truce returned here
from New York and
brought a few prisoners. We learn that 1100
Americans were on
board the prison and hospital ships at New York,
when the flag
sailed from thence, and that from six to seven were
generally buried
every day."
"Salem. Mass.
Extract from a letter of an officer on board the
Jersey.--'The
deplorable situation I am in cannot be expressed. The
captains,
lieutenants, and sailing masters have gone to the Provost,
but they have only
gotten out of the frying pan into the fire.
I am
left here with
about 700 miserable objects, eaten up by lice, and
daily taking
fevers, which carry them off fast. Nov 9th 1782."
By repeated acts of
cruelty on the part of the British the Americans
were, at last,
stung to attempt something like retaliation. In 1782 a
prison ship, given
that name, was fitted up and stationed in the
Thames near New
London, as we learn from the following extract:
"New London,
Conn. May 24th 1782. Last Saturday the Retaliation prison
ship was safely
moored in the river Thames, about a mile from the
ferry, for the
receipt of such British prisoners as may fall into our
hands, since which
about 100 prisoners have been put on board."
It is said that
this ship was in use but a short time, and we have
been unable to
learn anything further of her history.
Thomas Philbrook,
who was a prisoner on board the Jersey for several
months was one of
the "working-party," whose duty it was to scrub the
decks, attend to
the sick, and bring up the dead. He says: "As the
morning dawned
there would be heard the loud, unfeeling, and horrid
cry, 'Rebels! Bring
up your dead!'
"Staggering
under the weight of some stark, still form, I would at
length gain the
upper deck, when I would be met with the salutation:
'What! _you alive
yet?_ Well, you are a tough one!'"
CHAPTER XXX
RECOLLECTIONS OF
ANDREW SHERBURNE
Andrew Sherburne, a
lad of seventeen, shipped on the Scorpion, Captain
R. Salter, a small
vessel, with a crew of eighteen men. This vessel
was captured by the
Amphion, about the middle of November,
1782. Sherburne
says that the sailors plundered them of everything
they possessed, and
that thirteen of them were put on board the
Amphion, and sent
down to the cable tiers between the two decks, where
they found nearly a
hundred of their countrymen, who were prisoners of
war.
"We were very
much crowded, and having nothing but the cables to lay
on, our beds were
as hard and unpleasant as though they were made of
cord wood, and
indeed we had not sufficient room for each to stretch
himself at the same
time.
"After about
two weeks we arrived at New York, and were put on board
that wretched ship
the Jersey. The New York prison ships
had been the
terror of American
tars for years. The Old Jersey had become notorious
in consequence of
the unparallelled mortality on board her. * * *
"I entered the
Jersey towards the last of November, I had just entered
the eighteenth year
of my age, and had now to commence a scene of
suffering almost
without a parallel. * * * A large proportion of the
prisoners had been
robbed of their clothing. * * * Early in
the
winter the British
took the Chesapeake frigate of about thirty guns,
and 300 hands. All
were sent on board the Jersey, which so overcrowded
her, that she was
very sickly. This crew died exceedingly fast, for a
large proportion
were fresh hands, unused to the sea."
Sherburne says that
boats from the city brought provisions to sell to
such of the
prisoners as were so fortunate as to be possessed of
money, and that
most of them were able to make purchases from them. A
piece of sausage
from seven to nine inches long sold for sixpence.
In January, 1783,
Sherburne became ill and was sent to the Frederick,
a hospital ship. In
this two men shared every bunk, and the conditions
were wretchedly
unsanitary. He was placed in a bunk with a man named
Wills from
Massachusetts, a very gentle and patient sufferer, who soon
died.
"I have seen
seven men drawn out and piled together on the lower
hatchway, who had
died in one night on board the Frederick.
"There were
ten or twelve nurses, and about a hundred sick. Some, if
not all of the
nurses, were prisoners. * * * They would indulge in
playing cards and
drinking, while their fellows were thirsting for
water and some
dying. At night the hatches were shut down and locked,
and the nurses
lived in the steerage, and there was not the least
attention paid to
the sick except by the convalescent, who were so
frequently called
upon that, in many cases, they overdid themselves,
relapsed, and
died."
Sherburne suffered
extremely from the cold. "I have often," he says
"toiled the
greatest part of the night, in rubbing my feet and legs to
keep them from
freezing. * * * In consequence of these chills I have
been obliged to
wear a laced stocking upon my left leg for nearly
thirty years past.
My bunk was directly against the ballast-port; and
the port not being
caulked, when there came a snow-storm the snow
would blow through
the seams in my bed, but in those cases there was
one advantage to
me, when I could not otherwise procure water to
quench my thirst.
The provision allowed the sick was a gill of wine,
and twelve ounces
of bread per day. The wine was of an ordinary
quality, and the
bread made of sour or musty flour, and sometimes
poorly baked. There
was a small sheet iron stove between decks, but
the fuel was green,
and not plenty, and there were some peevish and
surly fellows
generally about it. I never got an opportunity to sit by
it, but I could
generally get the favor of some one near it to lay a
slice of bread upon
it, to warm or toast it a little, to put into my
wine and water. We
sometimes failed in getting our wine for several
days together; we
had the promise of its being made up to us, but this
promise was seldom
performed. * * * Water was brought on board in
casks by the
working party, and when it was very cold it would freeze
in the casks, and
it would be difficult to get it out. * * * I was
frequently under
the necessity of pleading hard to get my cup
filled. I could not
eat my bread, but gave it to those who brought me
water. I have given
three days allowance to have a tin cup of water
brought me. * * * A
company of the good citizens of New York supplied
all the sick with a
pint of good Bohea tea, well sweetened with
molasses a day; and
this was constant. I believe this tea saved my
life, and the lives
of hundreds of others. * * * The physicians used
to visit the sick
once in several days: their stay was short, nor did
they administer
much medicine. Were I able to give a full description
of our wretched and
filthy condition I should almost question whether
it would be
credited. * * * It was God's good
pleasure to raise me up
once more so that I
could just make out to walk, and I was again
returned to the
Jersey prison ship."
Here he received
sad news. One of his uncles was a prisoner on board
the Jersey, and had
been very kind to him, giving him a share of his
money with which to
purchase necessaries. Now he found his uncle about
to take his place
in the hospital ship. A boy named Stephen Nichols
also informed him
of the death in his absence of the gunner of their
ship, whose name
was Daniel Davis. This poor man had his feet and legs
frozen, from which
he died.
"Nichols and
myself were quite attached to each other. * * * We
stalked about the
decks together, lamenting our forlorn condition. In
a few days there
came orders to remove all the prisoners from the
Jersey in order to
cleanse the ship. We were removed on board of
transports, and
directly there came on a heavy storm. The ship on
which I was was
exceedingly crowded, so that there was not room enough
for each man to lay
down under deck, and the passing and repassing by
day had made the
lower deck entirely wet. Our condition was
distressing. After a few days we were all put on board the
Jersey
again. A large
number had taken violent colds, myself among the
rest. The hospital
ships were soon crowded, and even the Jersey
herself shortly
became about as much of a hospital ship as the
others."
Sherburne was again
sent to a hospital ship, where he was rejoiced to
find his uncle
convalescing. A man who lay next him had been a nurse,
but had had his
feet and legs frozen, the toes and bottom of his feet
fell off.
Two brothers shared
a bunk near him. Their names were John and Abraham
Falls. John was twenty-three,
and Abraham only sixteen. Both were very
sick. One night
Abraham was heard imploring John not to lie on him,
and the other
invalids reproached him for his cruelty in thus treating
his young brother.
But John was deaf to their reproaches, for he was
dead. Abraham was
too ill to move from under him. Next day the dead
brother was removed
from the living one, but it was too late to save
him, and the poor
boy died that morning.
Sherburne says that
only five of his crew of thirteen survived, and
that in many
instances a much larger proportion died.
"At length
came news of peace. It was exceedingly trying to our
feelings to see our
ship mates daily leaving us, until our ship was
almost deserted. We
were, however, convalescent, but we gained
exceedingly slowly.
* * * I think there were but seven or eight left
on board the
hospital ship when we left it, in a small schooner sent
from R. I., for the
purpose of taking home some who belonged to that
place, and the
commander of the hospital ship had the humanity to use
his influence with
the master of the cartel to take us on board, and
to our unspeakable
joy he consented."
When at last he
reached home he says: "My brother Sam took me into
another room to
divest me of my filthy garments and to wash and dress
me. He having taken
off my clothes and seen my bones projecting here
and there, was so
astonished that his strength left him. He sat down
on the point of
fainting, and could render me no further service. I
was able to wash
myself and put on my clothes."
After this he was
obliged to spend twenty days in bed. Poor
Mrs. Falls, the
mother of the two young men who had died on the
hospital ship,
called on him and heard the fate of her sons. She was
in an agony, and
almost fainted, and kept asking if it was not a
mistake that _both_
were dead.
CHAPTER XXXI
CAPTAIN ROSWELL
PALMER
In the year 1865 a
son of Captain Roswell Palmer, of Connecticut,
wrote a letter to
Mr. Henry Drowne, in which he narrates
the story of
his father's
captivity, which we will condense in these pages. He says
that his father was
born in Stonington, Conn., in August, 1764, and
was about seventeen
at the time of his capture by the British, which
must have been in
1781.
Palmer had several
relations in the army, and was anxious to enlist,
but was rejected as
too young. His uncle, however, received him as an
assistant in the
Commissary Department, and when the brig Pilgrim, of
Stonington, was
commissioned to make war on the public enemy, the
rejected volunteer
was warmly welcomed on board by his kinsman,
Captain Humphrey
Crary.
The first night
after putting to sea, the Pilgrim encountered a
British fleet just
entering the Vineyard Sound. A chase and running
fight of several
hours ensued, but at length the vessel was crippled
and compelled to
surrender. The prize was taken into Holmes' Hole, and
the crew
subsequently brought to New York. Mr. Henry Palmer thus
describes the
Jersey, which was his father's destination.
"The Jersey
never left her anchorage at the Wallabout, whether from
decrepitude, or the
intolerable burden of woes and wrongs accumulated
in her wretched
hulk,--but sank slowly down at last into the subjacent
ooze, as if to hide
her shame from human sight, and more than forty
years after my
father pointed out to me at low tide huge remnants of
her unburied
skeleton.
"On board of
this dread Bastile were crowded year after year, some
1,400 prisoners,
mostly Americans. The discipline was
very strict,
while the smallest
possible attention was paid by their warders to the
sufferings of the
captives. Cleanliness was simply an impossibility,
where the quarters
were so narrow, the occupants so numerous, and
little opportunity
afforded for washing the person or the tatters that
sought to hide its
nakedness. Fortunate was the wretch who possessed a
clean linen rag,
for this, placed in his bosom, seemed to attract to
it crowds of his
crawling tormentors, whose squatter sovereignty could
be disposed of by
the wholesale at his pleasure.
"The food of
the prisoners consisted mainly of spoiled sea biscuit,
and of navy beef,
which had become worthless from long voyaging in
many climes years
before. These biscuits were so worm-eaten that a
slight pressure of
the hand reduced them to dust, which rose up in
little clouds of
insubstantial aliment, as if in mockery of the half
famished
expectants. For variety a ration called 'Burgoo,' was
prepared several
times a week, consisting of mouldy oatmeal and water,
boiled in two great
Coppers, and served out in tubs, like swill to
swine.
"By degrees
they grew callous to each other's miseries, and alert to
seize any advantage
over their fellow sufferers. Many played cards day
and night,
regardless of the scenes of woe and despair around them. *
* * The remains (of
those who died) were huddled into blankets, and so
slightly interred
on the neighboring slope that scores of them, bared
by the rains, were
always visible to their less fortunate comrades
left to pine in
hopeless captivity. * * * After having been imprisoned
about a year and a
half my father, one night, during a paroxysm of
fever, rushed on
board, and jumped overboard.
"The shock
restored him to consciousness, he was soon rescued, and the
next morning was
taken by the Surgeon-General's orders to his quarters
in Cherry St., near
Pearl, where he remained until the close of the
war. The kind
doctor had taken a fancy to the handsome Yankee patient,
whom he treated
with fatherly kindness; giving him books to read; and
having him present
at his operations and dissections; and finally
urged him to seek
his fortune in Europe, where he should receive a
good surgical
education free of charge.
"The
temptation was very great, but the rememberance of a nearer home
and dearer friends,
unseen for years, was greater, and to them the
long lost returned
at last, as one from the dead."
Captain Palmer
commanded a merchant ship after the war, retired and
bought a farm near
Stockbridge, Mass. He followed the sea over forty
years. In
appearance he was very tall, erect, robust, and of rare
physical power and
endurance. He had remarkably small hands and feet,
a high and fair
forehead, his hair was very black, a tangle of
luxuriant curls,
and his eyes were clear hazel. He died in his 79th
year, in 1844,
leaving a large family of children. In his own
memoranda he
writes: "Four or five hundred Frenchmen were transferred
as prisoners to the
orlop deck of the Jersey. They were much better
treated than we
Americans on the deck above them. All, however,
suffered very much
for the want of water, crowding around two half
hogsheads when they
were brought on board, and often fighting for the
first drink. On one
of these occasions a Virginian near me was elbowed
by a Spaniard and
thrust him back. The Spaniard drew a sheath knife,
when the Virginian
knocked him headlong backwards, down two hatches,
which had just been
opened for heaving up a hogshead of stale water
from the hold, for
the prisoners' drink. This water had
probably been
there for years,
and was as ropy as molasses.
"There was a
deal of trouble between the American and the French and
Spanish prisoners.
The latter slept in hammocks, we, on the
_floor_ of the deck
next above them. One night our boys went down
* * * and, at a
given signal, cut the hammock lashings of the French
and Spanish
prisoners at the head, and let them all down by the run on
the dirty floor. In
the midst of the row that followed this deed of
darkness, the
Americans stole back to their quarters, and were all
fast asleep when
the English guard came down.
"No lights
were permitted after ten o'clock. We used, however, to hide
our candles
occasionally under our hats, when the order came to 'Douse
the glim!' One night the officer of the guard discovered
our
disobedience, and
came storming down the hatchway with a file of
soldiers. Our
lights were all extinguished in a moment, and we on the
alert for our
tyrants, whom we seized with a will, and hustled to and
fro in the darkness,
till their cries aroused the whole ship."
An uncle of Roswell
Palmer's named Eliakim Palmer, a man named Thomas
Hitchcock, and John
Searles were prisoners on board the Scorpion, a
British 74,
anchored off the Battery, New York. They were about to be
transferred to the
Old Jersey, when Hitchcock went into the chains and
dropped his hat
into the water. On his return he begged for a boat to
recover it, and
being earnestly seconded by Lieutenant Palmer, the
officer of the deck
finally consented, ordering a guard to accompany
the "damned
rebels." They were a long time in getting the boat
off. The hat, in
the mean time, floated away from the ship. They rowed
very awkardly, of
course got jeered at uproariously for "Yankee land
lubbers," and
were presently ordered to return. Being then nearly out
of musket range,
Lieutenant Palmer suddenly seized and disarmed the
astonished guard,
while his comrades were not slow in manifesting
their latent adroitness
in the use of the oar, to the no less
astonishment of
their deriders. In a moment the Bay was alive with
excitement; many
shots, big and little, were fired at the audacious
fugitives from all
the fleet; boats put off in hot pursuit; but the
Stonington boys
reached the Jersey shore in safety, and escaped with
their prisoner to
Washington's headquarters, where the tact and
bravery they had
displayed received the approval of the great
commander.
Lieutenant Eliakim
Palmer was again taken prisoner later in the war
and again escaped.
This time he was on board the Jersey. He cut away
three iron bars let
into an aperture on the side of the ship on the
orlop deck,
formerly a part of her hold. He swam ashore with his shirt
and trousers tied
to his head. Having lost his trousers he
was
obliged to make his
way down Long Island for nearly its whole length,
in his shirt only.
He hid in ditches during the day, subsisting on
berries, and the
bounty of cows, milked directly into his mouth. He
crawled by the
sentries stationed at different parts of the island,
and at length,
after many days, reached Oyster Pond Point, whence he
was smuggled by
friends to his home in Stonington, Conn.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE NARRATIVE OF
CAPTAIN ALEXANDER COFFIN
In 1807 Dr.
Mitchell, of New York published a small volume entitled:
"The
Destructive Operation of Foul Air, Tainted Provisions, Bad Water,
and Personal
Filthiness, Upon Human Constitutions, Exemplified in the
Unparallelled
Cruelty of the British to the American Captives at New
York During the
Revolutionary War, on Board their Prison and Hospital
ships. By Captain
Alexander Coffin, Junior, One of the Surviving
Sufferers. In a
Communication to Dr. Mitchell, dated September 4th,
1807."
Truly our ancestors
were long-winded! A part of this narrative is as
follows: "I
shall furnish you with an account of the treatment that I,
with other of my
fellow citizens, received on board the Jersey and
John prison ships,
those monuments of British barbarity and infamy. I
shall give you
nothing but a plain simple statement of facts that
cannot be
controverted. And I begin my narrative
from the time of my
leaving the South
Carolina frigate.
"In June,
1782, I left the above-mentioned frigate in the Havana, on
board of which I
had long served as a mid-ship-man, and made several
trading
voyages. I sailed early in September,
from Baltimore, for the
Havana, in a fleet
of about forty sail, most of which were captured,
and we among the
rest, by the British frigate, Ceres, Captain Hawkins,
a man in every
sense of the word a perfect brute.
"Though our
commander, Captain Hughes, was a very gentlemanly man, he
was treated in the
most shameful and abusive manner by said Hawkins,
and ordered below
to mess with the petty officers. Our officers were
put into the cable
tier, with the crew, and a guard placed at the
hatchway to prevent
more than two going on deck at a time. The
provisions were of
the very worst kind, and very short allowance even
of them. They
frequently gave us pea-soup, that is pea-water, for the
pease and the soup,
all but about a gallon or two, were taken for the
ship's company, and
the coppers filled up with water, and brought down
to us in a
strap-tub. And Sir, I might have defied any person on
earth, possessing
the most acute olfactory powers and the most refined
taste to decide,
either by one or the other or both of these senses,
whether it was
pease and water, slush and water, or swill.
"After living
and being treated in this way, subject to every insult
and abuse for ten
or twelve days, we fell in with the Champion, a
British twenty gun
ship, which was bound to New York to refit, and
were all sent on
board of her The Captain was a true seaman and a
gentleman, and our
treatment was so different from what we had
experienced on
board the Ceres, that it was like being removed from
Purgatory to
Paradise. His name, I think, was Edwards.
"We arrived
about the beginning of October in New York and were
immediately sent on
board the prison-ship in a small schooner, called,
ironically enough,
the Relief, commanded by one Gardner, an Irishman.
"This schooner
Relief plied between the prison ship and New York, and
carried the water
and provisions from that city to the ship. In fact
the said schooner
might emphatically be called the Relief, for the
execrable water and
provisions she carried relieved many of my brave
but unfortunate
countrymen by death, from the misery and savage
treatment they
daily endured.
"Before I go
on to relate the treatment we experienced on board the
Jersey, I will make
one remark, and that is if you were to rake the
infernal regions, I
doubt whether you could find such another set of
demons as the
officers and men who had charge of the Old Jersey
Prison-ship, and,
Sir, I shall not be surprised if you, possessing the
finer feelings
which I believe to be interwoven in the composition of
men, and which are
not totally torn from the _piece_, till by a
long and obstinate
perseverance in the meanest, the basest, and
cruellest of all
human acts, a man becomes lost to every sense of
honor, of justice,
of humanity, and common honesty; I shall not be
surprised, I say,
if you, possessing these finer feelings, should
doubt whether men
could be so lost to their sacred obligations to
their God; and the
moral ties which ought to bind them to their duty
toward their fellow
men, as those men were, who had the charge, and
also who had any
agency in the affairs of the Jersey prison-ship.
"On my arrival
on board the Old Jersey, I found there about 1,100
prisoners; many of
them had been there from three to six months, but
few lived over that
time if they did not get away by some means or
other. They were
generally in the most deplorable situation, mere
walking skeletons,
without money, and scarcely clothes to cover their
nakedness, and
overrun with lice from head to feet.
"The
provisions, Sir, that were served out to us, was not more than
four or five ounces
of meat, and about as much bread, all condemned
provisions from the
ships of war, which, no doubt, were supplied with
new in their stead,
and the new, in all probability, charged by the
commissaries to the
Jersey. They, however, know best about that; and
however secure they
may now feel, they will have to render an account
of that business to
a Judge who cannot be deceived. This
fact,
however, I can
safely aver, that both the times I was confined on
board the prison
ships, there never were provisions served out to the
prisoners that
would have been eatable by men that were not literally
in a starving
situation.
"The water
that we were forced to use was carried from the city, and I
postively assert
that I never after having followed the sea thirty
years, had on board
of any ship, (and I have been three years on some
of my voyages,)
water so bad as that we were obliged to use on board
the Old Jersey;
when there was, as it were to tantalize us, as pure
water, not more
than three cables length from us, at the Mill in the
Wallabout, as was
perhaps ever drank.
"There were
hogs kept in pens on the Gun-deck for their own use; and I
have seen the
prisoners watch an opportunity, and with a tin pot steal
the bran from the
hogs' trough, and go into the Galley and when they
could get an
opportunity, boil it over the fire, and eat it, as you,
Sir, would eat of
good soup when hungry. This I have seen more than
once, and there are
now living besides me, who can bear testimony to
the same fact.
There are many other facts equally abominable that I
could mention, but
the very thought of those things brings to my
recollection scenes
the most distressing.
"When I
reflect how many hundreds of my brave and intrepid countrymen
I have seen, in all
the bloom of health, brought on board of that
ship, and in a few
days numbered with the dead, in consequence of the
savage treatment
they there received, I can but adore my Creator that
He suffered me to
escape; but I did not escape, Sir, without being
brought to the very
verge of the grave.
"This was the
second time I was on board, which I shall mention more
particularly
hereafter. Those of us who had money fared much better
than those who had
none. I had made out to save, when taken, about
twenty dollars, and
with that I could buy from the bumboats, that were
permitted to come
alongside, bread, fruit, etc.; but, Sir, the
bumboatmen were of
the same kidney as the officers of the Jersey and
we got nothing from
them without paying through the nose for it, and I
soon found the
bottom of my purse; after which I fared no better than
the rest. I was,
however, fortunate in one respect; for after having
been there about
six weeks, two of my countrymen, (I am a Nantucket
man) happened to
come to New York to endeavor to recover a whaling
sloop that had been
captured, with a whaling license from Admiral
Digby; and they
found means to procure my release, passing me for a
Quaker, to which I
confess I had no pretensions further than my mother
being a member of
that respectable society. Thus, Sir, I returned to
my friends, fit for
the newest fashion, after an absence of three
years.
"For my whole
wardrobe I carried on my back, which consisted of a
jacket, shirt, and
trousers, a pair of old shoes and a handkerchief,
which served me for
a hat, and had more than two months, for I lost my
hat the day we were
taken, from the maintop-gallant yard, furling the
top-gallant sail.
"My clothing,
I forgot to mention, was completed laced with locomotive
tinsel, and moved
as by instinct, in all directions; but as my mother
was not fond of
such company, she furnished me with a suit of my
father's, who was
absent at sea, and condemned my laced suit for the
benefit of all
concerned.
"Being then in
the prime of youth, about eighteen years of age, and
naturally of a
roving disposition; I could not bear the idea of being
idle at home. I
therefore proceeded to Providence, R. I., and shipped
on board the brig
Betsy and Polly, Captain Robert Folger, bound for
Virginia and
Amsterdam. We sailed from Newport early in February,
1783; and were
taken five days after, off the capes of Virginia, by
the Fair American
privateer, of those parts, mounting sixteen
six-pounders, and
having 85 men, commanded by one Burton, a refugee,
most of whose
officers were of the same stamp. We were immediately
handcuffed two and
two, and ordered into the hold in the
cable-tier. Having
been plundered of our beds and bedding, the softest
bed we had was the
soft side of a water cask, and the coils of a
cable.
"The Fair
American, after having been handsomely dressed by an United
States vessel of
half of her force, was obliged to put into New York,
then in possession
of the British army, to refit, and we arrived
within the Hook
about the beginning of March, and were put on board a
pilot boat, and
brought up to this city. The boat hauled
up alongside
the Crane-wharf,
where we had our irons knocked off, the mark of which
I carry to this
day; and were put on board the same schooner, Relief,
mentioned in a
former part of this narrative, and sent up once more to
the prison-ship.
"It was just
three months from my leaving the Old Jersey to my being
again a prisoner on
board of her, and on my return I found but very
few of the men I
had left three months before. Some had made their
escape; some had
been exchanged; but the greater part had taken up
their abode under
the surface of the hill, which you can see from your
windows, where
their bones are mouldering to dust, mingled with mother
earth; a lesson to
Americans, written _in capitals, on British
cruelty and
injustice_.
"I found, on
my return on board the Jersey, more prisoners than when I
left her; and she
being so crowded, they were obliged to send about
200 of us on board
the John, a transport-ship of about 300 tons.
"There we were
treated worse, if possible, than on board the Jersey,
and our
accommodations were infinitely worse, for the Jersey, being an
old, condemned 64
gun ship had two tiers of ports fore and aft,
air-ports, and
large hatchways, which gave a pretty free circulation
of air through the
ship; whereas the John, being a merchant-ship, and
with small
hatchways, and the hatchways being laid down every night,
and no man being
allowed to go on deck * * * the effluvia arising from
these, together
with the already contaminated air, occasioned by the
breath of so many
people so pent up together, was enough to destroy
men of the most
healthy and robust constitutions. All the time I was
on board this ship,
not a prisoner eat his allowance, bad as it was,
cooked, more than
three or four times; but eat it raw as it came out
of the barrel. * *
* In the middle of the ship, between decks, was
raised a platform
of boards about two and a half feet high, for those
prisoners to sleep
on who had no hammocks. On this they used
frequently to sit
and play at cards to pass the time. One night in
particular, several
of us sat to see them play until about ten
o'clock, and then
retired to our hammocks. About one A. M, we were
called and told
that one Bird was dying; we turned out and went to
where he lay, and
found him just expiring. Thus, at 10 P. M, the young
man was apparently
as well as any of us, and at one A. M. had paid the
debt to nature.
Many others went off in the same way. It will perhaps
be said that men
die suddenly anywhere. True, but do they die suddenly
anywhere from the
same cause? After all these things it is, I think,
impossible for the
mind to form any other conclusion than that there
was a premeditated
design to destroy as many Americans as they could
on board the
prison-ships; the treatment of the prisoners warrants the
conclusion; but it
is mean, base, and cowardly, to endeavor to conquer
an enemy by such
infamous means, and truly characteristic of base and
cowardly wretches.
The truly brave will always treat their prisoners
well.
"There were
two or three hospital-ships near the prison-ships; and so
soon as any of the
prisoners complained of being sick, they were sent
on board of one of
them; and I verily believe that not one out of a
hundred ever
returned or recovered. I am sure I never knew but one to
recover. Almost,
and in fact I believe I may say every morning, a
large boat from
each of the hospital ships went loaded with dead
bodies, which were
all tumbled together into a hole dug for the
purpose, on the
hill where the national navy-yard now is.
"A singular
affair happened on board of one of the hospital-ships, and
no less true than
singular. All the prisoners that died after the boat
with the load had
gone ashore were sewed up in hammocks, and left on
deck till next
morning. As usual, a great number had thus been
disposed of. In the
morning, while employed in loading the boat, one
of the seamen
perceived motion in one of the hammocks, just as they
were about
launching it down the board placel for that purpose from
the gunwale of the
ship into the boat, and exclaimed, 'Damn my eyes!
That fellow isn't
dead!' and if I have been rightly informed, and I
believe I have,
there was quite a dispute between the man and the
others about it.
They swore he was dead enough, and should go into the
boat; he swore he
should not be launched, as they termed it, and took
his knife and
ripped open the hammock, and behold, the man was really
alive. There had
been a heavy rain during the night; and as the vital
functions had not
totally ceased, but were merely suspended in
consequence of the
main-spring being out of order, this seasonable
moistening must
have given tone and elasticity to the great spring,
which must have
communicated to the lesser ones, and put the whole
machinery again
into motion. You know better about this than I do, and
can better judge of
the cause of the re-animation of the man. * * * He
was a native of
Rhode Island; his name was Gavot. He went to Rhode
Island in the same
flag of truce as myself, about a month
afterwards. I felt
extremely ill, but made out to keep about until I
got home. My
parents then lived on the island of Nantucket. I was then
taken down, and lay
in my bed six weeks in the most deplorable
situation; my body
was swelled to a great degree, and my legs were as
big round as my
body now is, and affected with the most excruciating
pains. What my disorder was I will not pretend to
say; but
Dr. Tupper, quite
an eminent physician, and a noted tory, who attended
me, declared to my
mother that he knew of nothing that would operate
in the manner that
my disorder did, but poison. For the truth of that
I refer to my
father and brothers, and to Mr. Henry
Coffin, father to
Captain Peter
Coffin, of the Manchester Packet of this point.
"Thus, Sir, in
some haste, without much attention to order or diction,
I have given you
part of the history of my life and sufferings, but I
endeavored to bear
them as became an American. And I must mention
before I close, to
the everlasting honor of those unfortunate
Americans who were
on board the Jersey, that notwithstanding the
savage treatment
they received, and death staring them in the face,
every attempt which
was made by the British to persuade them to enter
their ships of war
or in their army, was treated with the utmost
contempt; and I saw
only one instance of defection while I was on
board, and that
person was hooted at and abused by the prisoners till
the boat was out of
hearing. Their patriotism in preferring such
treatment, and even
death in its most frightful shapes, to the service
of the British, and
fighting against their own country has seldom been
equalled, certainly
never excelled, and if there be no monument raised
with hands to
commemorate the virtue of those men, it is stamped in
capitals on the
heart of every American acquainted with their merit
and sufferings, and
will there remain as long as the blood flows from
its
fountains."
We have already
seen that many of the prisoners on board the Jersey
were impressed into
the service of British men-of-war, and that others
voluntarily
enlisted for garrison duty in the West Indies. It seems
probable, however,
that, as Captain Coffin asserts, few enlisted in
the service to
fight against their own countrymen, and those few were
probably actuated
by the hope of deserting. It is certain that
thousands preferred
death to such a method of escaping from prison, as
is proved by the
multitudes of corpses interred in the sand of the
Wallabout, all of
whom could, in this way, have saved their
lives. Conditions
changed on board the Jersey, from time to
time. Thus, the
water supply that was at one time brought by the
schooner Relief
from New York, was, at other times, procured from a
beautiful spring on
Long Island, as we will see in our next chapter.
Some of the
prisoners speak of the foul air on board the prison ship
caused by the fact
that all her port holes were closed, and a few
openings cut in her
sides, which were insufficient to ventilate
her. Coffin says
there was a good passage of air through the vessel
from her port
holes. It is probable that the Jersey became so
notorious as a
death trap that at last, for very shame, some attempt
was made to secure
more sanitary conditions. Thus, just before peace
was established,
she was, for the first time, overhauled and cleaned,
the wretched
occupants being sent away for the purpose. The port holes
were very probably
opened, and this is the more likely as we read of
some of the
prisoners freezing to death during the last year of the
war. From that
calamity, at least, they were safe as long as they were
deprived of outer
air.
CHAPTER XXXIII
A WONDERFUL
DELIVERANCE
There are few
records of religious feeling on board the "Jersey,
vulgarly called
'Hell.'" No clergyman was ever
known to set foot on
board of her,
although a city of churches was so near. The fear of
contagion may have
kept ministers of the gospel away. Visitors came,
as we have seen,
but not to soothe the sufferings of the prisoners, or
to comfort those
who were dying. It is said that a young doctor, named
George Vandewater
attended the sick, until he took a fatal disease and
died. He was a
resident of Brooklyn, and seems to have been actuated
by motives of
humanity, and therefore his name deserves a place in
this record.
But although the
rough seamen who left narratives of their experiences
in that fearful
place have told us little or nothing about the inner
feelings of those
poor sufferers, yet it must be presumed that many a
silent prayer went
up to the Judge and Father of all men, from the
depths of that foul
prison ship. There was one boy on board the
Jersey, one at
least, and we hope that there were many more, who
trusted in God that
He could deliver him, even "from the nethermost
hell."
A large proportion
of the prisoners were young men in their teens, who
had been attracted
by the mysterious fascination of the sea; many of
them had run away
from good homes, and had left sorrowing parents and
friends to mourn
their loss. The feelings of these young men, full of
eager hopes, and as
yet unsoured by too rough handling in their
wrestle with the
world, suddenly transferred to the deck of the
Jersey, has been
well described by Fox and other captives, whose
adventures we have
transcribed in these pages.
We have now to tell
the experience of a youth on the Jersey who lived
to be a minister,
and for many years was in charge of a church at
Berkeley. This
youth was sensitive, delicate, and far from strong. His
faith in human
nature received a shock, and his disposition was warped
at the most
receptive and formative period of his life, by the
terrible scenes of
suffering on the one hand, and relentless cruelty
on the other, that
he witnessed in that fatal place. He wrote, in his
memoir many years
after: _"I have since found that the whole world
is but one great
prison-house of guilty, sorrowful, and dying men, who
live in pride,
envy, and malice, hateful, and hating one another."_
This is one of the
most terrible indictments of the human race that
was ever written.
Let us hope that it is not wholly true.
In 1833 the Rev.
Thomas Andros published his recollections under the
title, "The
Old Jersey Captive." We will give
an abstract of them. He
begins by saying:
"I was but in my seventeenth year when the struggle
commenced. In the
summer of 1781 the ship Hannah, a very rich prize,
was captured and
brought into the port of New London. It infatuated
great numbers of
our young men who flocked on board our private armed
ships in hopes of
as great a prize. * * * I entered on board a new
Brig called the
'Fair American.' She carried sixteen guns. * * * We
were captured on
the 27th of August, by the Solebay frigate, and
safely stowed away
in the Old Jersey prison ship at New York, an old,
unsightly, rotten
hulk.
"Her dark and
filthy appearance perfectly corresponded with the death
and despair that
reigned within. She was moored three
quarters of a
mile to the
eastward of Brooklyn ferry, near a tide-mill on the Long
Island shore. The
nearest distance to land was about twenty rods. No
other British ship
ever proved the means of the destruction of so many
human beings."
Andros puts the
number of men who perished on board the Jersey as
11,000, and
continues: "After it was known that it was next to certain
death to confine a
prisoner here, the inhumanity and wickedness of
doing it was about
the same as if he had been taken into the city and
deliberately shot
on some public square. * * * Never did any Howard or
angel of pity
appear to inquire into or alleviate our woes.
Once or
twice a bag of
apples was hurled into the midst of hundreds of
prisoners, crowded
together as thick as they could stand, and life and
limbs were
endangered by the scramble. This was a cruel sport. When I
saw it about to
commence I fled to the most distant part of the ship."
At night, he says,
the prisoners were driven down to darkness between
decks, secured by
iron gratings and an armed soldiery. He thus speaks
of the tasks
imposed upon the prisoners: "Around the well-room an
armed guard were
forcing up the prisoners to the winches to clear the
ship of water, and
prevent her sinking; and little could be heard but
a roar of mutual execrations,
reproaches and insults.
"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, and
death, there were
about 400 on board, but in a short time they were
increased to 1,200.
"All the most
deadly diseases were pressed into the service of the
king of terrors,
but his prime ministers were dysentery, small pox,
and yellow fever.
The healthy and the diseased were mingled together
in the main
ship."
He says that the
two hospital ships were soon overcrowded, and that
two hundred or more
of the prisoners, who soon became sick in
consequence of the
want of room, were lodged in the fore-part of the
lower gun-deck,
where all the prisoners were confined at night.
"Utter
derangement was a common sympton of yellow fever, and to
increase the horror
of darkness which enshrouded us, for we were
allowed no light,
the voice of warning would be heard, 'Take care!
There's a madman
stalking through the ship with a knife in his hand!'"
Andros says that he
sometimes found the man by whose side he had lain
all night a corpse
in the morning. There were many sick
with raging
fever, and their
loud cries for water, which could only be obtained on
the upper deck,
mingled with the groans of the dying, and the
execrations of the
tormented sufferers. If they attempted
to get
water from the
upper deck, the sentry would push them back with his
bayonet. Andros, at one time, had a narrow escape with
his life, from
one of these
bayonet thrusts.
"In the
morning the hatches were thrown open and we were allowed to
ascend. The first
object we saw was a boat loaded with dead bodies
conveying them to
the Long Island shore, where they were very slightly
covered with sand.
* * * Let our disease be what it would we were
abandoned to our
fate. No English physician ever came
near us."
Thirteen of the
crew to which Andros belonged were on the Jersey. In a
short time all but
three or four were dead. The healthiest died
first. They were
seized vith yellow fever, which was an epidemic on
the ship, and died
in a few hours. Andros escaped contagion longer
than any of his
companions, with one exception. He says that the
prisoners were
furnished with buckets and brushes to cleanse the ship,
and vinegar to
sprinkle the floors, but that most of them had fallen
into a condition of
apathy and despair, and that they seldom exerted
themselves to
improve their condition.
"The
encouragement to do so was small. The whole ship was equally
affected, and
contained pestilence enough to desolate a world; disease
and death were
wrought into her very timbers. At the time I left it is
to be supposed a
more filthy, contagious, and deadly abode never
existed among a
Christianized people.
"The lower
hold and the orlop deck were such a terror that no man
would venture down
into them. * * * Our water was good
could we have
had enough of it:
the bread was superlatively bad. I do not recollect
seeing any which
was not full of living vermin, but eat it, worms and
all, we must, or
starve. * * * A secret, prejudicial to a
prisoner,
revealed to the
guard, was death. Captain Young of Boston concealed
himself in a large
chest belonging to a sailor going to be exchanged,
and was carried on
board the cartel, and we considered his escape as
certain, but the
secret leaked out, and he was brought back and one
Spicer of
Providence being suspected as the traitor the enraged
prisoners were
about to cut his throat. The guard rushed down and
rescued him.
"I knew no one
to be seduced into the British service. They tried to
force one of our
crew into the navy, but he chose rather to die than
perform any duty,
and he was again restored to the prison-ship."
Andros declares
that there was no trace of religion exhibited on board
the Jersey. He also
says that the prisoners made a set of rules for
themselves by which
they regulated their conduct towards each
other. No one was
allowed to tyrannize over the weak, and morality was
enforced by rules,
and any infraction of these regulations was
severely punished.
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 from
the name of
Britian. * * * While on board almost every thought was
occupied to invent
some plan of escape. The time now came when I must
be delivered from the
ship or die. I was seized with yellow fever, and
should certainly
take the small-pox with it, and who does not know
that I could not
survive the operation of both of these diseases at
once. * * * I
assisted in nursing those who had the pox most
violently.
"The arrival
of a cartel and my being exchanged would but render my
death the more
sure."
Yet he endeavored
to promote his exchange by stepping up and giving in
his name among the
first, when a list of the prisoners was
taken. Andros was
not strong, and as he himself says, disease often
seemed to pass over
the weak and sickly, and to attack, with deadly
result, the
prisoners who were the healthiest and most vigorous.
"It was the
policy of the English to return for sound and healthy men
sent from our
prisons, such Americans as had but just the breath of
life in them, sure
to die before they reached home. The guard would
tell a man while in
health, 'You haven't been here long enough, you
are too well to be
exchanged.'
"There was one
more method of getting from the ship," Andros
continues,
"and that was at night to steal down through a gun-port
which we had
managed to open unbeknown to the guard, and swim ashore."
This, he declared,
was for him a forlorn hope. Already under the
influence of yellow
fever, and barely able to walk, he was, even when
well, unable to
swim ten rods. Discovery was almost certain, for the
guards now kept
vigilant watch to prevent any one escaping in this
manner, and they
shot all whom they detected in the act of
escaping. Yet this
poor young man trusted in God. He writes: "God, who
had something more
for me to do, undertook for me." Mr.
Emery, the
sailing master, was
going ashore for water. Andros stepped
up to him
and asked:
"Mr. Emery, may I go on shore with you after water?"
No such favor had
ever been granted a prisoner, and Andros scarcely
knew what prompted
him to prefer such a request. To his immense
surprise, the
sailing master, who must have had a heart after all,
replied, "Yes,
with all my heart." He was evidently struck with
compassion for the
poor, apparently dying, young man.
Andros, to the
astonishment of his companions, immediately descended
into the boat. Some
of them asked: "What is that sick man going on
shore for?"
The British sailors
endeavored to dissuade him, thinking that he would
probably die on the
excursion.
"'So, to put
them all to silence, I again ascended on board, for I had
neglected to take
my great-coat. But I put it on, and waited for the
sailing-master. The
boat was pushed off, I attempted to row, but an
English sailor
said, very kindly, 'Give me the oar. You are too
unwell.' * * * I
looked back to the black and unsightly old ship as to
an object of the
greatest horror. * * * We ascended the creek and
arrived at the
spring, and I proposed to the sailors to go in quest of
apples."
The sailing-master
said to him, "This fresh air will be of service to
you." This
emboldened him to ask leave to ascend a bank about thirty
feet high, and to
call at a house near the spring to ask for
refreshment. "Go," said Mr. Emery, "but
take care not to be out of
the way." He
replied that his state of health was such that nothing
was to be feared
from him on that account. He managed to get into a
small orchard that
belonged to the farmhouse. There he saw a sentinel,
who was placed on
guard over a pile of apples. He soon convinced
himself that this
man was indifferent to his movements, and, watching
his opportunity,
when the man's back was turned, he slipped beyond the
orchard, into a
dense swamp, covered with a thick undergrowth of
saplings and
bushes. Here there was a huge prostrate log twenty feet
in length,
curtained with a dense tangle of green briar.
"Lifting up
this covering I crept in, close by the log, and rested
comfortably,
defended from the northeast storm which soon commenced."
He heard the boat's
crew making inquiries for him but no one
discovered his
hiding-place. One of them declared that he was safe
enough, and would
never live to go a mile. In the middle of the night
he left his hiding
place, and fell into a road which he pursued some
distance. When he
heard approaching footsteps he would creep off the
path, roll himself
up into a ball to look like a bush, and remain
perfectly still
until the coast was clear. He now felt that a
wonderful
Providence was watching over him. His forethought in
returning for his
overcoat was the means of saving his life, as he
would undoubtedly
have perished from exposure without it. Next night
he hid in a high
stack of hay, suffering greatly. When the storm was
over he left this
hiding place, and entered a deep hollow in the woods
near by, where he
felt secure from observation. Here he took off his
clothes and spread
them in the sun to dry.
Returning to the
road he was proceeding on his way, when at a bend in
the road, he came
upon two light dragoons, evidently looking for
him. What was he to
do? His mind acted quickly, and, as they
approached, he
leisurely got over a fence into a small corn field,
near a cottage by
the way-side. Here he busied himself as if he were
the owner of the
cottage, going about the field; deliberately picking
up ears of corn;
righting up the cap sheaf of a stack of stalks, and
examining each one.
He had lost his hat, and had a handkerchief around
his head, which
helped to deceive the dragoons, who supposed that he
had just come out
of the cottage. They eyed him sharply, but passed
on.
After this he dared
not show himself, and wandered about, living on
apples and water.
He would lie concealed all day, in barns or hollows
of the woods. At
night he travelled as far as his weakened condition
would allow He
often found unfermented cider at the presses, for it
was cider-making
time.
After several days
of this wandering life he sought refuge in a barn,
where he was found
by a cross old man, who refused to do anything for
him. He says that
in the course of his wanderings he uniformly found
women kind and
helpful. They gave him food and kept his secret. One
night, feeling
utterly spent, he came to the poor dwelling of an old
man and his wife,
on the east side of Long Island. These good people
assisted him by
every means in their power, as if he were their own
son. They took off
his clothes, giving him another suit until they had
baked all his
garments in the oven to destroy the vermin which
tormented him day
and night. They insisted upon his occupying a clean
bed. That night he
slept sweetly, rid of the intolerable torture of
being eaten up
alive. He managed to reach Sag Harbor,
where he found
two other escaped
prisoners. Soon he was smuggled to Connecticut in a
whale-boat, and
restored to his mother. It was late in October when he
reached home. He was very ill and delirious for a long
time, but
finally recovered,
taught school for some time, and finally became a
minister of the
gospel.
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE NARRATIVE OF
CAPTAIN DRING
By far the most
complete account of life on board the Old Jersey is
contained in
Captain Dring's Recollections. His nature was hopeful,
and his
constitution strong and enduring. He attempted to make the
best of his
situation, and succeeded in leading as nearly a tolerable
life on board the
prison-ship as was possible. His book is too long
for insertion in
these pages, but we will endeavor to give the reader
an abstract of it.
This book was
published in 1865, having been prepared for the press
and annotated by
Mr. Albert G. Greene, who speaks of
Captain Dring as
"a frank,
outspoken, and honest seaman." His original manuscript was
first published in
1829.
Dring describes the
prison ships as leaky old hulks, condemned as
unfit for hospitals
or store ships, but considered good enough for
prisoners doomed to
speedy annihilation. He says:
"There is
little doubt that the superior officers of the Royal Navy
under whose
exclusive jurisdiction were these ships, intended to
insure, as far as
possible, the good health of those who were confined
on board of them;
there is just as little doubt, however, that the
inferior officers,
under whose control those prisoners were more
immediately placed,
* * * too often frustrated the purposes of their
superior officers,
and too often disgraced humanity, by their wilful
disregard of the
policy of their Government, and of the orders of
their superiors, by
the uncalled-for severity of their treatment of
those who were
placed in their custody, and by their shameless
malappropriation of
the means of support which were placed in their
hands for the
sustenance of the prisoners."
However that may
be, the superior officers must have known that the
prison ships were
unfit for human habitation; that they were fearfully
overcrowded; and
that the mortality on board of them was unprecedented
in the annals of
prison life.
The introduction to
Captain Drings's recollections declares, what is
well known, that
General Washington possessed but limited authority;
he was the
Commander-in-Chief of the army, but had nothing to do with
the American Navy,
and still less with the crews of privateers, who
made up a very
large portion of the men on board the Jersey. Yet he
did all he could,
actuated, as he always was, by the purest motives of
benevolence and
humanity.
"The authority
to exchange naval prisoners," to quote from this
introduction,
"was not invested in Washington, but in the Financier,
and as the
prisoners on the Jersey freely set forth in their petition,
the former was
comparatively helpless in the premises, although he
earnestly desired
to relieve them from their sufferings.
"It will be
seen from these circumstances that no blame could properly
attach to General
Washington, or the Continental Congress, or the
Commissary of
Prisoners; the blame belonged to those who were engaged
in privateering,
all of whom had been accustomed to release, without
parole, the crews
of the vessels which they captured, or enlist them
on other
privateers; in both cases removing the very means by which
alone the release
of their captive fellow seamen could be properly and
safely effected.
"From the
careful perusal of all the information we possess on this
interesting
subject, the reader will arise with the conviction that,
by unwarrantable
abuses of authority; and unprincipled disregard of
the purposes of the
British Government in some of its agents, great
numbers of helpless
American prisoners were wantonly plunged into the
deepest distress;
exposed to the most severe sufferings, and carried
to unhonored
graves. * * * Enough will remain uncontradicted by
competent testimony
to brand with everlasting infamy all who were
immediately
concerned in the business; and to bring a blush of shame
on the cheek of
every one who feels the least interest in the memory
of any one who, no
matter how remotely, was a party to so mean and yet
so horrible an
outrage. * * * The authors and abettors of the outrages
to which reference
has been made will stand convicted not only of the
most heartless
criminality against the laws of humanity and the laws
of God, but of the
most flagrant violation of the Laws of Nations, and
the Law of the
Land."
These extracts are
all taken from the Introduction to Captain Dring's
Recollections,
written by Mr. H. B. Dawson, in June,
1865.
Captain Dring was
born in Newport, R. I., on the third of August,
1758. He died in
August, 1825, in Providence, R. I., and was about 67
years of age at the
time of his death. He was many years in the
merchant service,
and wrote his recollections in 1824.
"I was first
confined on the Good Hope, in the year 1779, then lying
in the North River
opposite the city of New York, but after a
confinement of more
than four months, I succeeded in making my escape
to the Jersey
shore."
Captain Dring is
said to have been one of the party who escaped from
the Good Hope in
October, 1779. The New Jersey papers
thus described
the escape.
"Chatham, N.
J. Last Wednesday morning about one o'clock made their
escape from the
Good Hope prison ship in the North River, nine
Captains and two
privates. Among the number was Captain James Prince,
who has been
confined four months, and having no prospect of being
exchanged,
concerted a plan in conjunction with the other gentlemen to
make their escape,
which they effected in the following manner: They
confined the Mate,
disarmed the sentinels, and hoisted out the boat
which was on deck;
they brought off nine stands of arms, one pair of
pistols, and a
sufficient quantity of ammunition, being determined not
to be taken alive.
They had scarce got clear of the ship before the
alarm was given,
when they were fired on by three different ships, but
fortunately no
person was hurt. Captain Prince speaks in the highest
terms of Captain
Charles Nelson, who commanded the prison-ship, using
the prisoners with
a great deal of humanity, particularly himself.
"I was again
captured in 1782," Dring continues, "and conveyed on
board the Jersey,
where * * * I was a witness and partaker of the
unspeakable
sufferings of that wretched class of American prisoners
who were there
taught the utmost extreme of human misery. I am now far
advanced in years,
and am the only survivor, with the exception of
two, of a crew of
65 men. I often pass the descendant of one of my old
companions in
captivity, and the recollection comes fresh to my mind
that his father was
my comrade and fellow sufferer in prison; that I
saw him breathe his
last upon the deck of the Jersey, and assisted at
his interment at
the Waleboght; * * *
"In May, 1782,
I sailed from Providence, R. I., as Master's-mate, on
board a privateer
called the Chance, commanded by Captain Daniel
Aborn, mounting 12
six-pound cannon, and having a crew of 65 men."
This vessel was
captured in a few days by the Belisarius, of 26 guns,
commanded by
Captain Graves. The prisoners were
brought to New York
and the Belisarius
dropped her anchor abreast of the city. A large
gondola soon came
alongside, in which was seated David Sproat, the
much-hated British
Commissary of Naval Prisoners. He was an American
refugee, universally
detested for the insolence of his manners, and
the cruelty of his
conduct. The prisoners were ordered into the boats,
and told to apply
themselves to the oars, but declined to exert
themselves in that
manner, whereupon he scowled at them and remarked,
"I'll soon fix
you, my lads!"
David Sproat found
America too hot for him after the war and died at
Kirkcudbright,
Scotland, in 1799.
Dring says:
"My station in the boat as we hauled alongside, was
exactly opposite
one of the air-ports in the side of the ship. From
this aperture
proceeded a strong current of foul vapor of a kind to
which I had been
before accustomed while confined on board the Good
Hope, the peculiar
disgusting smell of which I then recollected, after
a lapse of three
years. This was, however, far more foul and loathsome
than anything which
I had ever met with on board that ship, and it
produced a
sensation of nausea far beyond my powers of description.
"Here, while
waiting for orders to ascend on board, we were addressed
by some of the
prisoners from the air-ports * * * after some questions
whence we came, and
respecting the manner of our capture, one of the
prisoners said that
it was a lamentable thing to see so many young men
in the prime of
health and vigor condemned to a living grave." He went
on to say that
Death passed over such human skeletons as himself as
unworthy of his
powers, but that he delighted in making the strong,
the youthful, and
the vigorous, his prey.
After the prisoners
had been made to descend the hatchways, these were
then fastened down
for the night. Dring says it was impossible for him
to find one of his
companions in the darkness.
"Surrounded by
I knew not whom, except that they were beings as
wretched as myself;
with dismal sounds meeting my ears from every
direction; a
nauseous and putrid atmosphere filling my lungs at every
breath; and a
stifling and suffocating heat which almost deprived me
of sense, even of
life. Previous to leaving the boat I had put on
several articles of
clothing, for the purpose of security, but I was
soon compelled to
disencumber myself of these. * * * Thoughts of sleep
did not enter into
my mind."
He discovered a
gleam of light from one of the port-holes and keeping
hold of his bag
endeavored to make his way to it, but was greeted by
curses and
imprecations from those who were lying on the deck, and
whom he disturbed.
At length he arrived at the desired spot, but found
it occupied. In the
morning he saw himself surrounded by a crowd of
forms, with the
hues of death and famine upon their faces. At eight
o'clock they were
permitted to ascend on deck, and he found some of
his friends.
"Pale and
meagre, the throng came on deck, to view for a few moments
the morning sun,
and then to descend again, to pass another day of
misery and
wretchedness. I found myself surrounded by a motley crew of
wretches, with
tattered garments and pallid visages. *
* * Among them
I saw one ruddy and
heathful countenance, and recognized the features
of one of my late
companions on the Belisarius. But how different did
he appear from the
group around him * * * men who, now shrunken and
decayed, had but a
short time before been as strong, as healthful, and
as vigorous as
himself. * * * During the night I had, in addition to
my other
sufferings, been tormented with what I supposed to be vermin,
and on coming upon
deck, I found that a black silk handkerchief, which
I wore around my
neck, was completely spotted with them. Although this
had often been
mentioned as one of the nuisances of the place, yet as
I had never before
been in a situation to witness anything of the
kind, the sight
made me shudder, as I knew at once that as long as I
should remain on
board, these loathsome creatures would be my constant
companions and
unceasing tormentors.
"The next
disgusting object which met my sight was a man suffering
from small-pox, and
in a few minutes I found myself surrounded by many
others laboring
under the same disease in every stage of its
progress."
Dring was obliged
to inoculate himself, as that was thought to be the
safest way of
taking the disease. He borrowed some virus from a
sufferer, and
scarified the skin of his hand with a pin. He then bound
up his hand. Next
morning he found that it had festered.
He took the
disease lightly,
and soon recovered, while a very large proportion of
those who
contracted smallpox in the natural manner died of it.
All the prisoners
from the Belisarius were obliged to fast for
twenty-four hours.
Dring had some ship biscuit with him, in his
bag. These he
distributed to his companions. They then formed
themselves into
messes of six each, and next morning drew their scanty
pittance of food.
We have said that
Dring and the other officers on board solved the
problem of living
with _comparative_ comfort on board the
Jersey. As they
were officers, the gun-room was given up to their use,
and they were not
so terribly crowded as the common sailors. Also the
officers had money
to supply many of their wants, but all this will
appear in the
course of the narrative.
He says that, even
on the second day of their confinement, they could
not obtain their
allowance of food in time to cook it. No distinction
of rank was made by
the jailors on the Jersey, but the prisoners
themselves agreed
to allow the officers to occupy the extreme
afterpart of the
ship, between decks, called the gun-room. Dring soon
became an inmate of
this place, in company with the other officers who
were already in
possession, and these tendered him all the little
services in their
power.
The different
messes were all numbered. At nine o'clock the steward
and his assistants
would take their places at the window in the bulk
head in the steward's
room, and ring a bell. A man from each mess
stood ready to be
in time to answer when his number was called. The
rations were all
prepared ready for delivery. They were
on two-thirds
allowance. This is
the full allowance for a British seaman:
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 sufficient
to sustain life,
had it been of moderately good quality. They never
received butter,
but a rancid and ill-smelling substance called sweet
oil. "The smell of it, accustomed as we were
to everything foul and
nauseous, was more
than we could endure. We, however,
always received
it, and gave it to
the poor, half-starved Frenchmen who were on board,
who took it
gratefully, and swallowed it with a little salt and their
wormy bread."
Oil had been dealt
out to the prisoners on the Good Hope, but there it
was hoarded
carefully, for they were allowed lights until nine P.M.,
so they used it in
their lamps. But on the Jersey, Dring declares that
neither light nor
fire was ever allowed.
Often their
provisions were not dealt out in time to be cooked that
day, and then they
had to fast or eat them raw. The cooking was done
in the "Great
Copper" under the forecastle. This was a boiler enclosed
in brick-work about
eight feet square. It was large enough to contain
two or three
hogsheads of water. It was square, and divided into two
portions. In one
side peas and oatmeal were boiled in fresh water. On
the other side the
meat was boiled in salt water, and as we have
already stated the
food was poisoned by copperas. This was the cause,
it is believed, of
many deaths, especially as the water was obtained
from alongside the
ship, and was extremely unwholesome.
The portion of each
mess was designated by a tally fastened to it by a
string. Hundreds of
tallies were to be seen hanging over the sides of
the brick-work by
their strings, each eagerly watched by some member
of the mess, who
waited to receive it.
The meat was suffered
to remain in the boiler a certain time, then the
cook's bell was
rung, and the pittance of food must be immediately
removed, whether
sufficiently cooked or not. The proportion of peas
and oatmeal
belonging to each mess was measured out of the copper
after it was
boiled.
The cook alone
seemed to have much flesh on his bones. He had been a
prisoner, but
seeing no prospect of ever being liberated he had
offered his
services, and his mates and scullions were also prisoners
who had followed
his example. The cook was not ill-natured, and
although often
cursed by the prisoners when out of hearing, he really
displayed fortitude
and forbearance far beyond what most men would
have been capable
of showing. "At times, when his patience was
exhausted, he did,
indeed, make the hot water fly among us, but a
reconciliation was
usually effected with little difficulty.
"Many of the
different messes had obtained leave from His Majesty the
Cook to prepare
their own rations, separate from the general mess in
the great boiler.
For this purpose a great many spikes and hooks had
been driven into
the brick-work by which the boiler was enclosed, on
which to suspend
their tin kettles. As soon as we were permitted to go
on deck in the
morning, some one took the tin kettle belonging to the
mess, with as much
water and as many splinters of wood as we had been
able to procure
during the previous day, and carried them to the
Galley; and there
having suspended his kettle on one of the hooks or
spikes stood ready
to kindle his little fire as soon as the Cook or
his mates would
permit. It required but little fire to boil our food
in these kettles,
for their bottoms were made concave, and the fire
was applied
directly in the centre, and let the remaining brands be
ever so small they
were all carefully quenched; and having been
conveyed below were
kept for use on a future occasion.
"Much
contention often arose through our endeavors to obtain places
around the
brick-work, but these disputes were always promptly decided
by the Cook, from
whose mandate there was no appeal. No sooner had one
prisoner completed
the cooking for his mess, than another supplicant
stood ready to take
his place; and they thus continued to throng the
galley, during the
whole time that the fire was allowed to remain
under the Great
Copper, unless it happened to be the pleasure of the
Cook to drive them
away. *[...] Each man in the mess
procured and
saved as much water
as possible during the previous day; as no person
was ever allowed to
take more than a pint at a time from the
scuttle-cask in
which it was kept. Every individual was
therefor
obliged each day to
save a little for the common use of the mess on
the next morning.
By this arrangement the mess to which I belonged had
always a small
quantity of fresh water in store, which we carefully
kept, with a few
other necessaries, in a chest which we used in
common.
"During the
whole period of my confinement I never partook of any food
which had been prepared
in the Great Copper. It is to this fact that I
have always
attributed, under Divine Providence, the degree of health
which I preserved
on board. I was thereby also, at times, enabled to
procure several
necessary and comfortable things, such as tea, sugar,
etc. so that,
wretchedly as I was situated, my condition was far
preferable to that
of most of my fellow sufferers, which has ever been
to me a theme of
sincere and lasting gratitude to Heaven.
"But terrible
indeed was the condition of most of my fellow
captives. Memory
still brings before me those emaciated beings, moving
from the Galley
with their wretched pittance of meat; each creeping to
the spot where his
mess was assembled, to divide it with a group of
haggard and sickly
creatures, their garments hanging in tatters round
their meagre limbs,
and the hue of death upon their careworn faces. By
these it was
consumed with the scanty remnants of bread, which was
often mouldy and
filled with worms. And even from this
vile fare they
would rise up in
torments from the cravings of unsatisfied hunger and
thirst.
"No vegetables
of any description were ever afforded us by our inhuman
keepers. Good
Heaven! what a luxury to us would then
have been even a
few potatoes!--if
but the very leavings of swine. * * *
"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 upper
deck, and the
forecastle extended from the stern, about one-eighth
part of the length
of the upper deck. Sentinels were stationed on the
gangways on each
side of the upper deck, leading from the quarter-deck
to the forecastle.
These gangways were about five feet wide; and here
the prisoners were
allowed to pass and repass. The intermediate space
from the bulkhead
of the quarter-deck to the forecastle was filled
with long spars and
booms, and called the spar-deck. The temporary
covering afforded
by the spar-deck was of the greatest benefit to the
prisoners, as it
served to shield us from the rain and the scorching
rays of the sun. It
was here, therefore, that our movables were placed
when we were
engaged in cleaning the lower decks. The spar-deck was
also the only place
where we were allowed to walk, and was crowded
through the day by
the prisoners on deck. Owing to the great number of
prisoners, and the
small space allowed us by the spar-deck, it was
our custom to walk
in platoons, each facing the same way, and turning
at the same time.
The Derrick for taking in wood, water, etc., stood
on the starboard
side of the spar-deck. On the larboard side of the
ship was placed the
accommodation ladder, leading from the gangway to
the water. At the
head of the ladder a sentinel was also stationed.
"The head of
the accommodation ladder was near the door of the
barricade, which
extended across the front of the quarter-deck, and
projected a few
feet beyond the sides of the ship. The barricade was
about ten feet
high, and was pierced with loop-holes for musketry in
order that the
prisoners might be fired on from behind it, if occasion
should require.
"The regular
crew of the ship consisted of a Captain, two Mates, a
Steward, a
Corporal, and about 12 sailors. The crew of the ship had no
communication
whatever with the prisoners. No person was ever
permitted to pass
through the barricade door, except when it was
required that the
messes should be examined and regulated, in which
case each man had
to pass through, and go between decks, and there
remain until the
examination was completed. None of the guard or of
the ship's crew
ever came among the prisoners while I was on board. I
never saw one of
her officers or men except when there were passengers
going in the boat,
to or from the stern-ladder.
"On the two
decks below, where we were confined at night, our chests,
boxes, and bags
were arranged in two lines along the decks, about ten
feet distant from
the sides of the ship; thus leaving as wide a space
unencumbered in the
middle of each deck, fore and aft, as our crowded
situation would
admit. Between these tiers of chests, etc., and the
sides of the ship,
was the place where the different messes assembled;
and some of the
messes were also separated from their neighbors by a
temporary partition
of chests, etc. Some individuals of the different
messes usually
slept on the chests, in order to preserve their
contents from being
plundered in the night.
"At night the
spaces in the middle of the decks were much encumbered
with hammocks, but
these were always removed in the morning. * * * My
usual place of
abode being in the Gunroom, I was never under the
necessity of
descending to the lower dungeon; and during my
confinement I had
no disposition to visit it. It was inhabited by the
most wretched in
appearance of all our miserable company. From the
disgusting and
squalid appearance of the groups which I saw ascending
the stairs which
led to it, it must have been more dismal, if
possible, than that
part of the hulk where I resided. Its occupants
appeared to be
mostly foreigners, who had seen and survived every
variety of human
suffering. The faces of many of them were covered
with dirt and
filth; their long hair and beards matted and foul;
clothed in rags,
and with scarcely a sufficient supply of these to
cover their
disgusting bodies. Many among them possessed no clothing
except the remnant
of those garments which they wore when first
brought on board;
and were unable to procure even any material for
patching these
together, when they had been worn to tatters by
constant use. * * *
Some, and indeed many of them, had not the means
of procuring a
razor, or an ounce of soap.
"Their beards
were occasionally reduced by each other with a pair of
shears or scissors.
* * * Their skins were discoloured by continual
washing in salt
water, added to the circumstance that it was
impossible for them
to wash their linen in any other manner than by
laying it on the
deck and stamping on it with their feet, after it had
been immersed in
salt water, their bodies remaining naked during the
process.
"To men in
this situation everything like ordinary cleanliness was
impossible. Much
that was disgusting in their appearance undoubtedly
originated from
neglect, which long confinement had rendered habitual,
until it created a
confirmed indifference to personal appearance.
"As soon as
the gratings had been fastened over the hatchways for the
night, we usually
went to our sleeping places. It was, of course,
always desirable to
obtain a station as near as possible to the side
of the ship, and,
if practicable, in the immediate vicinity of one of
the air-ports, as
this not only afforded us a better air, but also
rendered us less
liable to be trodden upon by those who were moving
about the decks
during the night.
"But silence
was a stranger to our dark abode. There
were continual
noises during the
night. The groans of the sick and the dying; the
curses poured out
by the weary and exhausted upon our inhuman keepers;
the restlessness
caused by the suffocating heat, and the confined and
poisonous air,
mingled with the wild and incoherent ravings of
delirium, were the
sounds which every night were raised around us in
every direction.
Such was our ordinary situation, but at times the
consequences of our
crowded condition were still more terrible, and
proved fatal to
many of our number in a single night.
"But, strange
as it may appear, notwithstanding all the * * *
suffering which was
there endured I knew many who had been inmates of
that abode for two
years, who were apparently perfectly well. They
had, as they
expressed it, 'been through the furnace and become
seasoned.' Most of
these, however, were foreigners, who appeared to
have abandoned all
hope of ever being exchanged, and had become quite
indifferent with
regard to the place of their abode.
"But far
different was the condition of that portion of our number who
were natives of the
United States. These formed by far the
most
numerous class of
the prisoners. Most of these were young men, * * *
who had been
captured soon after leaving their homes, and during their
first voyage. After
they had been here immured the sudden change in
their situation was
like a sentence of death. Many a one was crushed
down beneath the
sickness of the heart, so well described by the
poet:--
"'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 their
wearing apparel by
their captors, and here, the dismal and disgusting
objects by which
they were surrounded, the vermin which infested them,
the vile and
loathsome food, and what with _them_ was far from
being the lightest
of their trials, their ceaseless longing after
their _homes_, * *
* all combined, had a wonderful effect on
them. Dejection and
anguish were soon visible on their countenances.
They became
dismayed and terror-stricken; and many of them absolutely
died that most
awful of all human deaths, the effects of a _broken
heart_.
"A custom had
long been established that certain labor which it was
necessary should be
performed daily, should be done by a company,
usually called the
'Working party.' This consisted of about twenty
able-bodied men
chosen from among the prisoners, and was commanded,
in daily rotation,
by those of our number who had formerly been
officers of
vessels. The commander of the party for the day bore the
title of Boatswain.
The members of the Working-party received, as a
compensation for
their services, a full allowance of provisions, and
half a pint of rum
each, with the privilege of going on deck early in
the morning, to
breathe the pure air.
"This
privilege alone was a sufficient compensation for all the duty
which was required
of them.
"Their routine
of service was to wash down that part of the upper deck
and gangways where
the prisoners were permitted to walk; to spread the
awning, or to hoist
on board the wood, water, and other supplies, from
the boats in which
the same were brought alongside the ship.
"When the
prisoners ascended to the upper deck in the morning, if the
day was fair, each
carried up his hammock and bedding, which were all
placed upon the
spar-deck, or booms. The Working-party then took the
sick and disabled
who remained below, and placed them in the bunks
prepared for them
upon the centre-deck; they then, if any of the
prisoners had died
during the night, carried up the dead bodies, and
laid them upon the
booms; after which it was their duty to wash down
the main decks
below; during which operation the prisoners remained on
the upper deck,
except such as chose to go below and volunteer their
services in the
performance of this duty.
"Around the
railing of the hatchway leading from the centre to the
lower decks, were
placed a number of large tubs for the occasional use
of the prisoners
during the night, and as general receptacles of
filth. Although these were indispensably necessary
to us, yet they
were highly
offensive. It was a part of the duty of the Working-party
to carry these on
deck, at the time when the prisoners ascended in the
morning, and to
return them between decks in the afternoon.
"Our beds and
clothing were kept on deck until nearly the hour when we
were to be ordered
below for the night. During this interval * * * the
decks washed and
cleared of all incumbrance, except the poor wretches
who lay in the
bunks, it was quite refreshing after the suffocating
heat and foul
vapors of the night to walk between decks. There was
then some
circulation of air through the ship, and, for a few hours,
our existence was,
in some degree, tolerable.
"About two
hours before sunset the order was usually issued for the
prisoners to carry
their hammocks, etc., below. After this had been
done we were all
either to retire between decks, or to remain above
until sunset
according to our own pleasure. Everything which we could
do conducive to
cleanliness having then been performed, if we ever
felt anything like
enjoyment in this wretched abode, it was during
this brief
interval, when we breathed the cool air of the approaching
night, and felt the
luxury of our evening pipe. But short indeed was
this interval of
repose. The Working-party was soon
ordered to carry
the tubs below, and
we prepared to descend to our gloomy and crowded
dungeons. This was
no sooner done than the gratings were closed over
the hatchways, the
sentinels stationed, and we left to sicken and pine
beneath our
accumulated torments; with our guards above crying aloud,
through the long
night, 'All's well!"'
Captain Dring says
that at that time the Jersey was used for seamen
alone. The average
number on board was one thousand. It consisted of
the crews of
vessels of all the nations with which the English were at
war. But the
greater number had been captured on board American
vessels.
There were three
hospital ships in the Wallabout; the Stromboli, the
Hunter, and the
Scorpion. [Footnote: At one time as we
have seen, the
Scorpion was a
prison ship, from which Freneau was sent to the Hunter
hospital
ship.] There was not room enough on
board these ships for
all the sick, and a
part of the upper deck of the Jersey was therefore
prepared for their
accommodation. These were on the after part of the
upper deck, on the
larboard side, where those who felt the symptoms of
approaching
sickness could lie down, in order to be found by the
nurses as soon as
possible.
Few ever returned
from the hospital ships to the Jersey. Dring knew
but three such
instances during his imprisonment. He says that "the
outward appearance
of these hospitals was disgusting in the highest
degree. The sight
of them was terrible to us. Their appearance was
even more shocking
than that of our own miserable hulk.
"On board the
Jersey among the prisoners were about half a dozen men
known by the
appellation of nurses. I never learned by whom they were
appointed, or
whether they had any regular appointment at all. But
one fact I knew
well; they were all thieves. They were, however,
sometimes useful in
assisting the sick to ascend from below to the
gangway on the
upper deck, to be examined by the visiting Surgeon who
attended from the
Hunter every day, when the weather was good. If a
sick man was
pronounced by the Surgeon to be a proper subject for one
of the hospital
ships, he was put into the boat waiting alongside; but
not without the
loss or detention of his effects, if he had any, as
these were at once
taken by the nurses, as their own property. * * * I
had found Mr.
Robert Carver, our Gunner while on board the Chance,
sick in one of the
bunks where those retired who wished to be
removed. He was
without a bed or pillow, and had put on all the
wearing apparel
which he possessed, wishing to preserve it, and being
sensible of his
situation. I found him sitting upright in the bunk,
with his great-coat
on over the rest of his garments, and his hat
between his knees.
The weather was excessively hot, and, in the place
where he lay, the
heat was overpowering. I at once saw that he was
delirious, a sure
presage that the end was near. I took off his
great-coat, and
having folded and placed it under his head for a
pillow, I laid him
upon it, and went immediately to prepare him some
tea. I was absent
but a few minutes, and, on returning, met one of the
thievish Nurses
with Carver's great-coat in his hand. On
ordering him
to return it his
reply was that it was a perquisite of the Nurses, and
the only one they
had; that the man was dying, and the great-coat
could be of no
further use to him. I however, took possession of the
coat, and on my
liberation, returned it to the family of the owner. Mr
Carver soon after
expired where he lay. We procured a blanket in which
to wrap his body,
which was thus prepared for interment. Others
of
the crew of the
Chance had died before that time. Mr Carver was a man
of strong and
robust constitution. Such men were
subject to the most
violent attacks of
the fever, and were also its most certain victims."
CHAPTER XXXVI
THE INTERMENT OF THE
DEAD
Captain Dring
continues his narrative by describing the manner in
which the dead were
interred in the sand of the Wallabout. Every
morning, he says,
the dead bodies were carried to the upper deck and
there laid upon the
gratings. Any person who could procure, and chose
to furnish, a
blanket, was allowed to sew it around the remains of his
departed companion.
"The signal
being made, a boat was soon seen approaching from the
Hunter, and if
there were any dead on board the other ships, the boat
received them, on
her way to the Jersey.
"The corpse
was laid upon a board, to which some ropes were attached
as straps; as it
was often the case that bodies were sent on shore for
interment before
they had become sufficiently stiff to be lowered into
the boat by a
single strap. Thus prepared a tackle was attached to the
board, and the
remains * * * were hoisted over the side of the ship
into the boat,
without further ceremony. If several bodies were
waiting for interment,
but one of them was lowered into the boat at a
time, for the sake
of decency. The prisoners were always very anxious
to be engaged in
the duty of interment, not so much from a feeling of
humanity, or from a
wish to pay respect to the remains of the dead,
for to these
feelings they had almost become strangers, as from the
desire of once more
placing their feet on the land, if but for a few
minutes. A
sufficient number of prisoners having received permission
to assist in this
duty, they entered the boat accompanied by a guard
of soldiers, and
put off from the ship.
"I obtained
leave to assist in the burial of the body of Mr. Carver, *
* * and after
landing at a low wharf which had been built from the
shore, we first
went to a small hut, which stood near the wharf, and
was used as a place
of deposit for the handbarrows and shovels
provided for these
occasions. Having placed the corpses on the
barrows, and
received our hoes and shovels, we proceeded to the side
of the bank near
the Waleboght. Here a vacant space having been
selected, we were
directed to dig a trench in the sand, of a proper
length for the
reception of the bodies. We continued our labor until
the guards
considered that a sufficient space had been excavated. The
corpses were then
laid in the trench without ceremony, and we threw
the sand over them.
The whole appeared to produce no more effect upon
our guards than if
they were burying the bodies of dead animals,
instead of men.
They scarcely allowed us time to look about us; for no
sooner had we
heaped the earth upon the trench, than we were ordered
to march. But a
single glance was sufficient to show us parts of many
bodies which were
exposed to view, although they had probably been
placed there with
the same mockery of interment but a few days before.
"Having thus
performed, as well as we were permitted to do it, the
last duty to the
dead, and the guards having stationed themselves on
each side of us, we
began reluctantly to retrace our steps to the
boat. We had enjoyed the pleasure of breathing for
a few minutes the
air of our native
soil; and the thought of return to the crowded
prison-ship was
terrible in the extreme. As we passed by the waterside
we implored our
guards to allow us to bathe, or even to wash ourselves
for a few minutes,
but this was refused us.
"I was the
only person of our party who wore a pair of shoes, and well
recollect that I
took them off for the pleasure of feeling the earth,
or rather the sand,
as we went along. * * * We went by a small patch
of turf, some
pieces of which we tore up from the earth, and obtained
permission to carry
them on board for our comrades to smell
them. Circumstances
like these may appear trifling to the careless
reader; but let him
be assured that they were far from being trifles
to men situated as
we had been. The inflictions which we had endured;
the duty which we
had just performed; the feeling that we must, in a
few minutes,
re-enter the place of suffering, from which, in all
probability, we
should never return alive; all tended to render
everything
connected with the firm land beneath, and the sweet air
above us, objects
of deep and thrilling interest.
"Having
arrived at the hut we there deposited our implements, and
walked to the
landing-place, where we prevailed on our guards, who
were Hessians, to
allow us the gratification of remaining nearly half
an hour before we
returned to the boat.
"Near us stood
a house occupied by a miller, and we had been told that
a tide-mill which
he attended was in the immediate vicinity, as a
landing-place for
which the wharf where we stood had been erected. *
* * It was
designated by the prisoners by the appellation of the 'Old
Dutchman's,' and
its very walls were viewed by us with feelings of
veneration, as we
had been told that the amiable daughter of its owner
had kept an
accurate account of the number of bodies that had been
brought on shore
for interment from the Jersey and hospital
ships. This could
easily be done in the house, as its windows
commanded a fair
view of the landing place. We were not, however,
gratified by a
sight of herself, or of any other inmate of the house.
"Sadly did we
approach and re-enter our foul and disgusting place of
confinement. The
pieces of turf which we carried on board were sought
for by our fellow
prisoners, with the greatest avidity, every fragment
being passed by
them from hand to hand, and its smell inhaled as if it
had been a fragrant
rose. * * * The first of the crew of the
Chance
to die was a lad
named Palmer, about twelve years of age, and the
youngest of our
crew. When on board the Chance he was a waiter to the
officers, and he
continued in this duty after we were placed on board
the Jersey. He had,
with many others of our crew, been inoculated for
the small-pox,
immediately after our arrival on board. The usual
symptoms appeared
at the proper time, and we supposed the appearance
of his disorder
favorable, but these soon changed, and the yellow hue
of his features
declared the approach of death. * * *
The night he
died was truly a
wretched one for me. I spent most of it in total
darkness, holding
him during his convulsions. * * * I had done
everything in my
power for this poor boy, during his sickness, and
could render him
but one more kind office (after his death). I
assisted to sew a
blanket around his body, which was, with others who
had died, during
the night, conveyed upon deck in the morning, to be
at the usual hour
hurried to the bank at the Walebocht. I
regretted
that I could not
assist at his interment, as I was then suffering with
the small-pox
myself, neither am I certain that permission would have
been granted me, if
I had sought it. Our keepers appeared to have no
idea that the
prisoners could feel any regard for each other, but
appeared to think
us as cold-hearted as themselves. If anything like
sympathy was ever
shown us by any of them it was done by the
Hessians. * * * The
next deaths among our company were those of Thomas
Mitchell and his son-in-law,
Thomas Sturmey. It is a singular fact
that both of these
men died at the same time."
THE GUARDS ON BOARD
THE JERSEY
"In addition
to the regular officers and seamen of the Jersey, there
were stationed on
board about a dozen old invalid Marines, but our
actual guard was
composed of soldiers from the different regiments
quartered on Long
Island. The number usually on duty on board was
about thirty. Each
week they were relieved by a fresh party. They were
English, Hessian,
and Refugees. We always preferred the Hessians, from
whom we received
better treatment than from the others. As to the
English, we did not
complain, being aware that they merely obeyed
their orders, in
regard to us; but the Refugees * * * were viewed by
us with scorn and
hatred. I do not recollect, however, that a guard of
these miscreants
was placed over us more than three times, during
which their
presence occasioned much tumult and confusion; for the
prisoners could not
endure the sight of these men, and occasionally
assailed them with
abusive language, while they, in turn, treated us
with all the
severity in their power. We dared not approach near them,
for fear of their
bayonets, and of course could not pass along the
gangways where they
were stationed; but were obliged to crawl along
upon the booms, in
order to get fore and aft, or to go up and down the
hatchways. They
never answered any of our remarks respecting them, but
would merely point
to their uniforms, as much as to say, 'We are
clothed by our
Sovereign, while you are naked.' They were as much
gratified by the
idea of leaving us as we were at seeing them depart.
"Many
provoking gestures were made by the prisoners as they left the
ship, and our
curses followed them as far as we could make ourselves
heard.
"A regiment of
Refugees, with a green uniform, were then quartered at
Brooklyn. We were
invited to join this Royal band, and to partake of
his Majesty's
pardon and bounty. But the prisoners, in the midst of
their unbounded
sufferings, of their dreadful privations, and
consuming anguish,
spurned the insulting offer. They preferred to
linger and to die
rather than desert their country's cause. During the
whole period of my
confinement I never knew a single instance of
enlistment among
the prisoners of the Jersey.
"The only
duty, to my knowledge, ever performed by the old Marines was
to guard the
water-butt, near which one of them was stationed with a
drawn cutlass. They were ordered to allow no prisoner to carry
away
more than one pint
at once, but we were allowed to drink at the butt
as much as we
pleased, for which purpose two or three copper ladles
were chained to the
cask. Having been long on board and regular in
performance of this
duty, they had become familiar with the faces of
the prisoners, and
could, in many instances, detect the frauds which
we practiced upon
them in order to obtain more fresh water for our
cooking than was
allowed us by the regulations of the ship. Over the
water the sailors
had no control. The daily consumption of water on
board was at least
equal to 700 gallons. I know not whence it was
brought, but
presume it was from Brooklyn. One large gondola, or boat,
was kept in
constant employment to furnish the necessary supply.
"So much of
the water as was not required on deck for immediate use
was conducted into
butts, placed in the lower hold of the hulk,
through a leather
hose, passing through her side, near the bends. To
this water we had
recourse, when we could procure no other.
"When water in
any degree fit for use was brought on board, it is
impossible to
describe the struggle which ensued, in consequence of
our haste and
exertions to procure a draught of it. The best which was
ever afforded us
was very brackish, but that from the ship's hold was
nauseous in the
highest degree. This must be evident
when the fact is
stated that the
butts for receiving it had never been cleaned since
they were put in
the hold. The quantity of foul sediment which they
contained was
therefore very great, and was disturbed and mixed with
the water as often
as a new supply was poured into them, thereby
rendering their
whole contents a substance of the most disgusting and
poisonous nature. I
have not the least doubt that the use of this vile
compound caused the
death of hundreds of the prisoners, when, to allay
their tormenting
thirst, they were driven by desperation to drink this
liquid poison, and
to abide the consequences."
CHAPTER XXXVII
DAME GRANT AND HER
BOAT
"One
indulgence was allowed us by our keepers, if indulgence it can be
called. They had
given permission for a boat to come alongside the
ship, with a supply
of a few necessary articles, to be sold to such of
the prisoners as
possessed the means of paying for them. This trade
was carried on by a
very corpulent old woman, known among us by the
name of Dame Grant.
Her visits, which were made every other day, were
of much benefit to
us, and, I presume, a source of profit to
herself. She
brought us soft bread and fruit, with various other
articles, such as
tea, sugar, etc., all of which she previously put up
into small paper
parcels, from one ounce to a pound in weight, with
the price affixed
to each, from which she would never deviate. The
bulk of the old
lady completely filled the stern sheets of the boat,
where she sat, with
her box of goods before her, from which she
supplied us very
expeditiously. Her boat was rowed by two boys, who
delivered to us the
articles we had purchased, the price of which we
were required first
to put into their hands.
"When our
guard was not composed of Refugees, we were usually
permitted to
descend to the foot of the Accommodation-ladder, in order
to select from the
boat such articles as we wished. While standing
there it was
distressing to see the faces of hundreds of half-famished
wretches, looking
over the side of the ship into the boat, without the
means of purchasing
the most trifling article before their sight, not
even so much as a
morsel of wholesome bread. None of us possessed the
means of
generosity, nor had any power to afford them relief. Whenever
I bought any
articles from the boat I never enjoyed them; for it was
impossible to do so
in the presence of so many needy wretches, eagerly
gazing at my
purchase, and almost dying for want of it.
"We frequently
furnished Dame Grant with a memorandum of such articles
as we wished her to
procure for us, such as pipes, tobacco, needles,
thread, and combs.
These she always faithfully procured and brought to
us, never omitting
the assurance that she afforded them exactly at
cost.
"Her arrival
was always a subject of interest to us; but at length she
did not make her
appearance for several days, and her appearance was
awaited in extreme
anxiety. But, alas! we were no longer to enjoy this
little
gratification. Her traffic was ended.
She had taken the fever
from the hulk, and
died * * * leaving a void which was never
afterwards filled
up."
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE SUPPLIES FOR
THE PRISONERS
"After the
death of Dame Grant, we were under the necessity of
puchasing from the
Sutler such small supplies as we needed. This man
was one of the
Mates of the ship, and occupied one of the apartments
under the
quarter-deck, through the bulkhead of which an opening had
been cut, from
which he delivered his goods. He here kept for sale a
variety of
articles, among which was usually a supply of ardent
spirits, which was
not allowed to be brought alongside the ship, for
sale. It could,
therefore, only be procured from the Sutler, whose
price was two
dollars per gallon. Except in relation to this article,
no regular price
was fixed for what he sold us. We were first obliged
to hand him the
money, and he then gave us such a quantity as he
pleased of the
article which we needed; there was on our part no
bargain to be made,
but to be supplied even in this manner was, to
those of us who had
means of payment, a great convenience. * * *
"Our own
people afforded us no relief. O my country!
Why were we thus
neglected in this
hour of our misery, why was not a little food and
raiment given to
the dying martyrs of thy cause?
"Although the
supplies which some of us were enabled to procure from
the Sutler were
highly conducive to our comfort, yet one most
necessary article
neither himself nor any other person could
furnish. This was
wood for our daily cooking, to procure a sufficient
quantity of which
was to us a source of continual trouble and
anxiety. The Cooks
would indeed steal small quantities, and sell them
to us at the hazard
of certain punishment if detected; but it was not
in their power to
embezzle a sufficient quantity to meet our daily
necessities. As the
disgust at swallowing any food which had been
cooked in the Great
Copper was universal, each person used every
exertion to procure
as much wood as possible, for the private cooking
of his own mess.
"During my
excursion to the shore to assist in the interment of
Mr. Carver, it was
my good fortune to find a hogshead stave floating
in the water. This
was truly a prize I conveyed the treasure on board,
and in the
economical manner in which it was used, it furnished the
mess to which I
belonged with a supply of fuel for a considerable
time.
"I was also
truly fortunate on another occasion. I
had, one day,
commanded the
Working-party, which was then employed in taking on
board a sloop-load
of wood for the sailors' use. This was carefully
conveyed below,
under a guard, to prevent embezzlement.
I
nevertheless found
means, with the assistance of my associates, to
convey a cleft of
it into the Gunroom, where it was immediately
secreted. Our mess
was thereby supplied with a sufficient quantity for
a long time, and
its members were considered by far the most wealthy
persons in all this
republic of misery. We had enough for
our own
use, and were
enabled, occasionally, to supply our neighbors with a
few splinters.
"Our mode of
preparing the wood was to cut it with a jack-knife into
pieces about four
inches long. This labor occupied much of
our time,
and was performed
by the different members of our mess in rotation,
which employment
was to us a source of no little pleasure.
"After a
sufficient quantity had been thus prepared for the next day's
use, it was
deposited in the chest. The main stock
was guarded by day
and night, with the
most scrupulous and anxious care. We kept it at
night within our
enclosure, and by day it was always watched by some
one of its
proprietors. So highly did we value it that we went into
mathematical
calculation to ascertain how long it would supply us, if
a given quantity
was each day consumed."
OUR BY-LAWS
"Soon after
the Jersey was first used as a place of confinement a code
of by-laws had been
established by the prisoners, for their own
regulation and
government; to which a willing submission was paid, so
far as
circumstances would permit. I much regret my inability to give
these rules
verbatim, but I cannot at this distant period of time
recollect them with
a sufficient degree of distinctness. They were
chiefly directed to
the preservation of personal cleanliness, and the
prevention of
immorality. For a refusal to comply with any of them,
the refractory
person was subjected to a stated punishment. It is an
astonishing fact
that any rules, thus made, should have so long
existed and been
enforced among a multitude of men situated as we
were, so numerous
and composed of that class of human beings who are
not easily
controlled, and usually not the most ardent supporters of
good order. There
were many foreigners among our number, over whom we
had no control,
except so far as they chose, voluntarily, to submit to
our regulations,
which they cheerfully did, in almost every instance,
so far as their
condition would allow. Among our rules were the
following. That
personal cleanliness should be preserved, as far as
was practicable;
that profane language should be avoided; that
drunkenness should
not be allowed; that theft should be severely
punished, and that
no smoking should be permitted between decks, by
day or night, on
account of the annoyance which it caused the sick.
"A due
observance of the Sabbath was also strongly enjoined; and it
was recommended to
every individual to appear cleanly shaved on Sunday
morning, and to
refrain from all recreation during the day.
"This rule was
particularly recommended to the attention of the
officers, and the
remainder of the prisoners were desired to follow
their example.
"Our By-laws
were occasionally read to the assembled prisoners, and
always whenever any
person was to be punished for their
violation. Theft or
fraud upon the allowance of a fellow prisoner was
always punished,
and the infliction was always approved by the whole
company. On these
occasions the oldest officer among the prisoners
presided as Judge.
It required much exertion for many of us to comply
with the law
prohibiting smoking between decks. Being myself much
addicted to the
habit of smoking, it would have been a great privilege
to have enjoyed the
liberty of thus indulging it, particularly during
the night, while
sitting by one of the air-ports; but as this was
inadmissible, I of
course submitted to the prohibition. * *
* We were
not allowed means
of striking a fire, and were obliged to procure it
from the Cook
employed for the ship's officers, through a small window
in the bulkhead,
near the caboose. After one had thus procured fire
the rest were also
soon supplied, and our pipes were all in full
operation in the
course of a few minutes. The smoke which rose around
us appeared to
purify the pestilent air by which we were surrounded;
and I attribute the
preservation of my health, in a great degree, to
the exercise of
this habit. Our greatest difficulty was to procure
tobacco. This, to
some of the prisoners, was impossible, and it must
have been an
aggravation to their sufferings to see us apparently
puffing away our
sorrows, while they had no means of procuring the
enjoyment of a
similar gratification.
"We dared not
often apply at this Cook's caboose for fire, and the
surly wretch would
not willingly repeat the supply. One morning I went
to the window of
his den, and requested leave to light my pipe, and
the miscreant,
without making any reply, threw a shovel full of
burning cinders in
my face. I was almost blinded by the pain; and
several days
elapsed before I fully regained my sight. My feelings on
this occasion may
be imagined, but redress was impossible, as we were
allowed no means of
even seeking it. I mention this occurrence to show
to what a wretched
condition we were reduced."
THE ORATOR OF THE
JERSEY
"During the
period of my confinement the Jersey was never visited by
any regular
clergyman, nor was Divine service ever performed on board,
and among the whole
multitude of prisoners there was but one
individual who ever
attempted to deliver a set speech, or to exhort
his fellow
sufferers. This individual was a young man named Cooper,
whose station in
life was apparently that of a common sailor.
He
evidently possessed
talents of a very high order. His manners were
pleasing, and he
had every appearance of having received an excellent
education. He was a
Virginian; but I never learned the exact place of
his nativity. He
told us that he had been a very unmanageable youth,
and that he had
left his family, contrary to their wishes and advice;
that he had been
often assured by them that the Old Jersey would bring
him up at last, and
the Waleboght be his place of burial. 'The first
of these predictions,'
said he, 'has been verified; and I care not how
soon the second
proves equally true, for I am prepared for the
event. Death, for
me, has lost its terrors, for with them I have been
too long familiar.'
"On several
Sunday mornings Cooper harangued the prisoners in a very
forcible yet
pleasing manner, which, together with his language, made
a lasting
impression upon my memory. On one of these occasions, having
mounted upon a
temporary elevation upon the Spar-deck, he, in an
audible voice,
requested the attention of the prisoners, who having
immediately
gathered around him in silence, he commenced his
discourse.
"He began by
saying that he hoped no one would suppose he had taken
that station by way
of derision or mockery of the holy day, for that
such was not his
object; on the contrary he was pleased to find that
the good
regulations established by the former prisoners, obliged us
to refrain even
from recreation on the Sabbath; that his object,
however, was not to
preach to us, nor to discourse upon any sacred
subject; he wished
to read us our By-laws, a copy of which he held in
his hand, the
framers of which were then, in all probability, sleeping
in death, beneath
the sand of the shore before our eyes. That these
laws had been
framed in wisdom, and were well fitted to preserve order
and decorum in a
community like ours: that his present object was to
impress upon our
minds the absolute necessity of a strict adherence to
those wholesome
regulations; that he should briefly comment upon each
article, which
might be thus considered as the particular text of that
part of his
discourse.
"He proceeded
to point out the extreme necessity of a full observance
of these Rules of
Conduct, and portrayed the evil consequences which
would inevitably
result to us if we neglected or suffered them to fall
into disuse. He
enforced the necessity of our unremitting attention to
personal
cleanliness, and to the duties of morality; he dwelt upon the
degradation and sin
of drunkeness; described the meanness and atrocity
of theft; and the
high degree of caution against temptation necessary
for men who were
perhaps standing on the very brink of the grave; and
added that, in his
opinion, even sailors might as well refrain from
profane language,
while they were actually suffering in Purgatory.
"He said that
our present torments, in that abode of misery, were a
proper retribution
for our former sins and transgressions; that Satan
had been permitted
to send out his messengers and inferior demons in
every direction to
collect us together, and that among the most active
of these infernal
agents was David Sproat, Commissary of Prisoners.
"He then made
some just and suitable observations on the fortitude
with which we had
sustained the weight of our accumulated miseries; of
our firmness in
refusing to accept the bribes of our invaders, and
desert the banners
of our country. During this part of his discourse
the sentinels on
the gangways occasionally stopped and listened
attentively. We
much feared that by some imprudent remark, he might
expose himself to
their resentment, and cautioned him not to proceed
too far. He replied
our keepers could do nothing more, unless they
should put him to
the torture, and that he should proceed.
"He touched on
the fact that no clergyman had ever visited us; that
this was probably
owing to the fear of contagion; but it was much to
be regretted that
no one had ever come to afford a ray of hope, or to
administer the Word
of Life in that terrific abode; that if any
Minister of the
Gospel desired to do so, there could be no obstacles
in the way, for
that even David Sproat himself, bad as he was, would
not dare to oppose
it.
"He closed
with a merited tribute to the memory of our
fellow-sufferers,
who had already passed away. 'The time,'
said he,
'will come when
their bones will be collected, when their rites of
sepulchre will be
performed, and a monument erected over the remains
of those who have
here suffered, the victims of barbarity, and who
have died in
vindication of the rights of man.'
"The remarks
of our Orator were well adapted to our situation, and
produced much
effect on the prisoners, who at length began to accost
him as Elder or
Parson Cooper. But this he would not allow; and told
us, if we would
insist on giving him a title, we might call him
Doctor, by which
name he was ever afterwards saluted, so long as he
remained among us.
"He had been a
prisoner for about the period of three months when one
day the Commissary
of Prisoners came on board, accompanied by a
stranger, and
inquired for Cooper, who having made his appearance, a
letter was put in
his hand, which he perused, and immediately after
left the ship,
without even going below for his clothing. While in the
boat he waived his
hand, and bade us be of good cheer. We could only
return a mute
farewell; and in a few minutes the boat had left the
ship, and was on
its way to New York.
"Thus we lost
our Orator, for whom I had a very high regard, at the
time, and whose
character and manners have, ever since, been to me a
subject of pleasing
recollection.
"Various were
the conjectures which the sudden manner of his departure
caused on board.
Some asserted that poor Cooper had drawn upon himself
the vengeance of
old Sproat, and that he had been carried on shore to
be punished. No
certain information was ever received respecting him,
but I have always
thought that he was a member of some highly
influential and
respectable family, and that his release had been
effected through
the agency of his friends. This was
often done by
the influence of
the Royalists or Refugees of New York, who were
sometimes the
connections or personal friends of those who applied for
their assistance in
procuring the liberation of a son or a brother
from captivity.
Such kind offices were thus frequently rendered to
those who had
chosen opposite sides in the great revolutionary
contest, and to
whom, though directly opposed to themselves in
political
proceedings, they were willing to render every personal
service in their
power."
CHAPTER XXXIX
FOURTH OF JULY ON
THE JERSEY
A few days before
the fourth of July we had made such preparations as
our circumstances
would admit for an observance of the anniversary of
American
Independence. We had procured some supplies with which to
make ourselves
merry on the occasion, and intended to spend the day in
such innocent
pastimes as our situation would afford, not dreaming
that our proceeding
would give umbrage to our keepers, as it was far
from our intention
to trouble or insult them. We thought that, though
prisoners, we had a
right, on that day at least, to sing and be
merry. As soon as
we were permitted to go on deck in the morning
thirteen little
national flags were displayed in a row on the boom. We
were soon ordered
by the guards to take them away; and as we neglected
to obey the
command, they triumphantly demolished, and trampled them
under foot.
Unfortunately for us our guards at that time were Scotch,
who, next to the
Refugees, were the objects of our greatest hatred;
but their
destruction of our flags was merely viewed in silence, with
the contempt which
it merited.
"During the
time we remained on deck several patriotic songs were
sung, and choruses
repeated; but not a word was intentionally spoken
to give offence to
our guards. They were, nevertheless, evidently
dissatisfied with
our proceedings, as will soon appear.
Their
moroseness was a
prelude to what was to follow. We were,
in a short
time, forbidden to
pass along the common gangway, and every attempt to
do so was repelled
by the bayonet. Although thus incommoded our mirth
still continued.
Songs were still sung, accompanied by occasional
cheers. Things thus
proceeded until about four o'clock; when the
guards were ordered
out, and we received orders to descend between
decks, where we
were immediately driven, at the point of the bayonet.
"After being
thus sent below in the greatest confusion, at that early
and unusual hour,
and having heard the gratings closed and fastened
above us, we
supposed that the barbarous resentment of our guards was
fully satisfied;
but we were mistaken, for they had further vengeance
in store, and
merely waited for an opportunity to make us feel its
weight.
"The prisoners
continued their singing between decks, and were, of
course, more noisy
than usual, but forbore even under their existing
temptations, to
utter any insulting or aggravating expressions. At
least, I heard
nothing of the kind, unless our patriotic songs could
be thus
constructed. In the course of the evening we were ordered to
desist from making
any further noise. This order not being fully
complied with, at
about nine o'clock the gratings were removed, and
the guards
descended among us, with lanterns and drawn cutlasses in
their hands. The
poor, helpless prisoners retreated from the
hatchways, as far
as their crowded situation would permit, while their
cowardly assailants
followed as far as they dared, cutting and
wounding every one
within reach, and then ascended to the upper deck,
exulting in the
gratification of their revenge.
"Many of the
prisoners were wounded, but from the total darkness,
neither their
number, nor their situation could be ascertained; and,
if this had been
possible, it was not in the power of their
compatriots to
afford them the least relief. During the whole of that
tragic night, their
groans and lamentations were dreadful in the
extreme. Being in
the Gun-room I was at some distance from the
immediate scene of
this bloody outrage, but the distance was by no
means far enough to
prevent my hearing their continual cries from the
extremity of pain,
their appeals for assistance, and their curses upon
the heads of their
brutal assailants.
"It had been
the usual custom for each person to carry below, when he
descended at
sunset, a pint of water, to quench his thirst during the
night. But, on this
occasion, we had thus been driven to our dungeon
three hours before
the setting of the sun, and without our usual
supply of water.
"Of this night
I cannot describe the horror. The day had been sultry,
and the heat was
extreme throughout the ship. The unusual number of
hours during which
we had been crowded together between decks; the
foul atmosphere and
sickening heat; the additional excitement and
restlessness caused
by the unwonted wanton attack which had been made;
above all, the want
of water, not a drop of which could be obtained
during the whole
night, to cool our parched lips; the imprecations of
those who were half
distracted with their burning thirst; the shrieks
and wails of the
wounded; the struggles and groans of the dying;
together formed a
combination of horrors which no pen can describe.
"In the
agonies of their sufferings the prisoners invited, and even
challenged their
inhuman guards to descend once more among them, but
this they were
prudent enough not to attempt.
"Their cries
and supplications for water were terrible, and were of
themselves
sufficient to render sleep impossible. Oppressed with the
heat, I found my
way to the grating of the main hatchway, where on
former nights I had
frequently passed some time, for the benefit of
the little current
of air which circulated through the bars. I
obtained a place on
the larboard side of the hatchway, where I stood
facing the East,
and endeavored, as much as possible, to withdraw my
attention from the
terrible sounds below me, by watching, through the
grating, the
progress of the stars. I there spent hour after hour, in
following with my
eyes the motion of a particular star, as it rose and
ascended until it
passed over beyond my sight.
"How I longed
for the day to dawn! At length the morning light began
to appear, but
still our torments were increasing every moment. As the
usual hour for us
to ascend to the upper deck approached, the
Working-party were
mustered near the hatchway, and we were all
anxiously waiting
for the opportunity to cool our weary frames, to
breathe for awhile
the pure air, and, above all, to procure water to
quench our
intolerable thirst. The time arrived, but still the
gratings were not
removed. Hour after hour passed on, and still we
were not released.
Our minds were at length seized with horror,
suspicious that our
tyrants had determined to make a finishing stroke
of their cruelty,
and rid themselves of us altogether.
"It was not
until ten o'clock in the forenoon that the gratings were
at last removed. We
hurried on deck and thronged to the water cask,
which was
completely exhausted before our thirst was allayed. So great
was the struggle
around the cask that the guards were again turned out
to disperse the
crowd.
"In a few
hours, however, we received a new supply of water, but it
seemed impossible
to allay our thirst, and the applications at the
cask were incessant
until sunset. Our rations were delivered to us,
but of course long
after the usual hour. During the whole day,
however, no fire
was kindled for cooking in the galley. All the food
which we consumed
that day we were obliged to swallow raw. Everything,
indeed, had been
entirely deranged by the events of the past night,
and several days
elapsed before order was restored. This was at last
obtained by a
change of the guard, who, to our great joy, were
relieved by a party
of Hessians. The average number who died during a
period of 24 hours
on board the Jersey was about six, [Footnote: This
was in 1782. The
mortality had been much greater in former years.]
but on the morning
of the fifth of July eight or ten corpses were
found below. Many
had been badly wounded, to whom, in the total
darkness of the
night, it was impossible for their companions to
render any
assistance; and even during the next day they received no
attention, except
that which was afforded by their fellow prisoners,
who had nothing to
administer to their companions, not even bandages
for their wounds. I
was not personally acquainted with any of those
who died or were
wounded on that night. No equal number had ever died
in the same period
of time since my confinement. This unusual
mortality was of
course caused by the increased sufferings of the
night. Since that
time I have often, while standing on the deck of a
good ship under my
command, and viewing the rising stars, thought upon
the horrors of that
night, when I stood watching their progress
through the
gratings of the Old Jersey, and when I now contrast my
former wretchedness
with my present situation, in the full enjoyment
of liberty, health,
and every earthly comfort, I cannot but muse upon
the contrast, and
bless the good and great Being from whom my comforts
have been derived.
I do not now regret my capture nor my sufferings,
for the
recollection of them has ever taught me how to enjoy my after
life with a greater
degree of contentment than I should, perhaps, have
otherwise ever
experienced."
CHAPTER XL
AN ATTEMPT TO
ESCAPE
It had been for
some time in contemplation among a few inmates of the
Gun-room to make a
desperate attempt to escape, by cutting a hole
through the stern
or counter of the ship. In order that their
operations might
proceed with even the least probability of success,
it was absolutely
necessary that but few of the prisoners should be
admitted to the
secret. At the same time it was impossible for them to
make any progress
in their labor unless they first confided their plan
to all the other
occupants of the Gun-room, which was accordingly
done. In this part
of the ship each mess was on terms of more or less
intimacy with those
whose little sleeping enclosures were immediately
adjacent to their
own, and the members of each mess frequently
interchanged good
offices with those in their vicinity, and borrowed
or lent such little
articles as they possessed, like the good
housewives of a
sociable neighborhood. I never knew any contention in
this apartment,
during the whole period of my confinement. Each
individual in the
Gun-room therefore was willing to assist his
comrades, as far as
he had the power to do so. When the proposed plan
for escape was laid
before us, although it met the disapprobation of
by far the greater
number, still we were all perfectly ready to assist
those who thought
it practicable. We, however, described to them the
difficulties and
dangers which must unavoidably attend their
undertaking; the
prospect of detection while making the aperture in
the immediate
vicinity of such a multitude of idle men, crowded
together, a large
proportion of whom were always kept awake by their
restlessness and
sufferings during the night; the little probability
that they would be
able to travel, undiscovered, on Long Island, even
should they succeed
in reaching the shore in safety; and above all,
the almost absolute
impossibility of obtaining food for their
subsistence, as an
application for that to our keepers would certainly
lead to detection.
But, notwithstanding all our arguments, a few of
them remained
determined to make the attempt. Their only reply to our
reasoning was, that
they must die if they remained, and that nothing
worse could befall
them if they failed in their undertaking.
"One of the
most sanguine among the adventurers was a young man named
Lawrence, the mate
of a ship from Philadelphia. He was a member of the
mess next to my
own, and I had formed with him a very intimate
acquaintance. He
frequently explained his plans to me; and dwelt much
on his hopes. But
ardently as I desired to obtain my liberty, and
great as were the
exertions I could have made, had I seen any
probability of
gaining it, yet it was not my intention to join in this
attempt. I
nevertheless agreed to assist in the labor of cutting
through the planks,
and heartily wished, although I had no hope, that
the enterprise
might prove successful.
"The work was
accordingly commenced, and the laborers concealed, by
placing a blanket
between them and the prisoners without. The counter
of the ship was
covered with hard oak plank, four inches thick; and
through this we
undertook to cut an opening sufficiently large for a
man to descend; and
to do this with no other tools than our jack
knives and a single
gimlet. All the occupants of the Gun-room assisted
in this labor in
rotation; some in confidence that the plan was
practicable, and
the rest for amusement, or for the sake of being
employed. Some one
of our number was constantly at work, and we thus
continued, wearing
a hole through the hard planks, from seam to seam,
until at length the
solid oak was worn away piecemeal, and nothing
remained but a thin
sheathing on the outside which could be cut away
at any time in a
few minutes, whenever a suitable opportunity should
occur for making
the bold attempt to leave the ship.
"It had been
previously agreed that those who should descend through
the aperture should
drop into the water, and there remain until all
those among the inmates
of the Gun-room who chose to make the attempt
could join them;
and that the whole band of adventurers should then
swim together to
the shore, which was about a quarter of a mile from
the ship.
"A proper time
at length arrived. On a very dark and rainy night, the
exterior sheathing
was cut away; and at midnight four of our number
having
disencumbered themselves of their clothes and tied them across
their shoulders,
were assisted through the opening, and dropped one
after another into
the water.
"Ill-fated
men! Our guards had long been acquainted with the
enterprise. But
instead of taking any measures to prevent it, they had
permitted us to go
on with our labor, keeping a vigilant watch for the
moment of our
projected escape, in order to gratify their bloodthirsty
wishes. No other
motive than this could have prompted them to the
course which they
pursued. A boat was in waiting under the ship's
quarter, manned
with rowers and a party of the guards. They maintained
a profound silence
after hearing the prisoners drop from the opening,
until having
ascertained that no more would probably descend, they
pursued the
swimmers, whose course they could easily follow by the
sparkling of the
water,--an effect always produced by the agitation of
the waves in a
stormy night.
"We were all
profoundly silent in the Gun-room, after the departure of
our companions, and
in anxious suspense as to the issue of the
adventure. In a few
minutes we were startled by the report of a gun,
which was instantly
succeeded by a quick and scattering fire of
musketry. In the
darkness of the night, we could not see the
unfortunate
victims, but could distinctly hear their shrieks and cries
for mercy.
"The noise of
the firing had alarmed the prisoners generally, and the
report of the
attempted escape and its defeat ran like wildfire
through the gloomy
and crowded dungeons of the hulk, and produced much
commotion among the
whole body of prisoners. In a few moments, the
gratings were
raised, and the guards descended, bearing a naked and
bleeding man, whom
they placed in one of the bunks, and having left a
piece of burning
candle by his side, they again ascended to the deck,
and secured the
gratings.
"Information
of this circumstance soon reached the Gun-room; and
myself, with
several others of our number, succeeded in making our way
through the crowd
to the bunks. The wounded man was my friend,
Lawrence. He was
severely injured in many places, and one of his arms
had been nearly
severed from his body by the stroke of a
cutlass. This, he
said, was done in wanton barbarity, while he was
crying for mercy,
with his hand on the gunwale of the boat. He was too
much exhausted to
answer any of our questions; and uttered nothing
further, except a
single inquiry respecting the fate of Nelson, one of
his fellow
adventurers. This we could not answer.
Indeed, what became
of the rest we
never knew. They were probably all murdered in the
water. This was the
first time that I had ever seen a light between
decks. The piece of candle had been left by the side
of the bunk, in
order to produce an
additional effect upon the prisoners. Many had
been suddenly
awakened from their slumbers, and had crowded round the
bunk where the sufferer
lay. The effect of the partial light upon his
bleeding and naked
limbs, and upon the pale and haggard countenances,
and tattered
garments of the wild and crowded groups by whom he was
surrounded, was
horrid beyond description. We could render the
sufferer but little
assistance, being only able to furnish him with a
few articles of
apparel, and to bind a handkerchief around his
head. His body was
completely covered, and his hair filled with
clotted blood; we
had not the means of washing the gore from his
wounds during the
night. We had seen many die, but to view this
wretched man expire
in that situation, where he had been placed beyond
the reach of
surgical aid, merely to strike us with terror, was
dreadful.
"The gratings
were not removed at the usual hour in the morning, but
we were all kept
below until ten o'clock. This mode of punishment had
now become habitual
with our keepers, and we were all frequently
detained between
decks until a late hour in the day, in revenge for
the most trifling
occasion. This cruelty never failed to produce the
torments arising
from heat and thirst, with all their attendant
miseries.
"The immediate
purpose of our tyrants having been answered by leaving
Mr. Lawrence below
in that situation they promised in the morning that
he should have the
assistance of a surgeon, but that promise was not
fulfilled. The
prisoners rendered him every attention in their power,
but in vain.
Mortification soon commenced; he became delirious and
died.
"No inquiry
was made by our keepers respecting his situation. They
evidently left him
thus to suffer, in order that the sight of his
agonies might deter
the rest of the prisoners from following his
example.
"We received
not the least reprimand for this transaction. The
aperture was again
filled up with plank and made perfectly secure, and
no similar attempt
to escape was made,--at least so long as I remained
on board.
"It was always
in our power to knock down the guards and throw them
overboard, but this
would have been of no avail. If we had done so,
and had effected
our escape to Long Island, it would have been next to
impossible for us
to have proceeded any further among the number of
troops there
quartered. Of these there were several
regiments, and
among them the regiment
of Refugees before mentioned, who were
vigilant in the
highest degree, and would have been delighted at the
opportunity of
apprehending and returning us to our dungeons.
"There were,
however, several instances of individuals making their
escape. One in
particular, I well recollect,--James Pitcher, one of
the crew of the
Chance, was placed on the sick list and conveyed to
Blackwell's Island.
He effected his escape from thence to Long Island;
from whence, after
having used the greatest precaution, he contrived
to cross the Sound,
and arrived safe at home. He is now one of the
three survivors of
the crew of the Chance."
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 a
degree hitherto
unknown on board, new companies of victims were
continually
arriving; so that, although the mortality was very great,
our numbers were
increasing daily. Thus situated, and seeing no
prospect of our
liberty by exchange, we began to despair, and to
believe that our
certain fate was rapidly approaching.
"One expedient
was at length proposed among us and adopted. We
petitioned General
Clinton, who was then in command of the British
forces at New York,
for leave to transmit a Memorial to General
Washington,
describing our deplorable situation, and requesting his
interference in our
behalf. We further desired that our Memorial might
be examined by the
British General, and, if approved by him, that it
might be carried by
one of our own number to General Washington. Our
petition was laid
before the British commander and was granted by the
Commissary of
Prisoners. We received permission to choose three from
our number, to whom
was promised a pass-port, with leave to proceed
immediately on
their embassy.
"Our choice
was accordingly made, and I had the satisfaction to find
that two of those
elected were from among the former officers of the
Chance, Captain
Aborn and our Surgeon, Mr. Joseph Bowen.
"The Memorial
was soon completed and signed in the name of all the
prisoners, by a
Committee appointed for that purpose. It contained an
account of the
extreme wretchedness of our condition, and stated that
although we were
sensible that the subject was one over which General
Washington had no
direct control, as it was not usual for soldiers to
be exchanged for
seamen, and his authority not extending to the Marine
Department of the
American service; yet still, although it might not
be in his power to
effect an exchange, we hoped he would be able to
devise some means
to lighten or relieve our sufferings.
"Our
messengers were further charged with a verbal commission to
General Washington,
which, for obvious reasons, was not included in
the written
Memorial. They were directed to state,
in a manner more
circumstantial than
we had dared to write, the peculiar horrors of our
situation; to
discover the miserable food and putrid water on which we
were doomed to
subsist; and finally to assure the General that in case
he could effect our
release, we would agree to enter the American
service as
soldiers, and remain during the war. Thus instructed our
messengers
departed.
"We waited in
alternate hope and fear, the event of their
mission. Most of
our number, who were natives of the Eastern States,
were strongly
impressed with the idea that some means would be devised
for our relief,
after such a representation of our condition should be
made. This class of
the prisoners, indeed, felt most interested in the
success of the
application; for many of the sufferers appeared to give
themselves but
little trouble respecting it, and some among the
foreigners did not
commonly know that such an appeal had been made, or
that it had even
been in contemplation. The long endurance of their
privations had
rendered them almost indifferent to their fate, and
they appeared to
look forward to death as the only probable
termination of
their captivity.
"In a few days
our messengers returned to New York, with a letter from
General Washington,
addressed to the Committee of Prisoners who had
signed the
Memorial. The prisoners were all summoned to the Spar-deck
where this letter
was read. Its purport was as follows:--That he had
perused our
communication, and had received, with due consideration,
the account which
our messengers had laid before him; that he viewed
our situation with
a high degree of interest, and that although our
application, as we
had stated, was made in relation to a subject over
which he had no
direct control, yet that it was his intention to lay
our Memorial before
Congress; and that, in the mean time, we might be
assured that no
exertions on his part should be spared which could
tend to a
mitigation of our sufferings.
"He observed
to our messengers, during their interview, that our long
detention in
confinement was owing to a combination of circumstances,
against which it
was very difficult, if not impossible, to provide.
That, in the first
place, but little exertion was made on the part of
our countrymen to
secure and detain their British prisoners for the
sake of exchange,
many of the British seamen being captured by
privateers, on
board which, he understood, it was a common practice
for them to enter
as seamen; and that when this was not the case, they
were usually set at
liberty as soon as the privateers arrived in port;
as neither the
owners, nor the town or State where they were landed,
would be at the
expense of their confinement and maintenance; and that
the officers of the
General Government only took charge of those
seamen who were
captured by the vessels in public service.
All which
circumstances
combined to render the number of prisoners, at all
times, by far too
small for a regular and equal exchange.
"General
Washington also transmitted to our Committee copies of
letters which he
had sent to General Clinton and to the Commissary of
Prisoners, which
were also read to us. He therein expressed an ardent
desire that a
general exchange of prisoners might be effected; and if
this could not be
accomplished, he wished that something might be done
to lessen the
weight of our sufferings, that, if it was absolutely
necessary that we
should be confined on the water, he desired that we
might at least be
removed to clean ships. He added if the Americans
should be driven to
the necessity of placing the British prisoners in
situations similar
to our own, similar effects must be the inevitable
results; and that
he therefore hoped they would afford us better
treatment from
motives of humanity. He concluded by
saying, that as a
correspondence on
the subject had thus begun between them, he ardently
wished it might
eventually result in the liberation of the unfortunate
men whose situation
had called for its commencement.
"Our three
messengers did not return on board as prisoners, but were
all to remain on
parole at Flatbush, on Long Island.
"We soon found
an improvement in our fare. The bread which we received
was of a better
quality, and we were furnished with butter, instead of
rancid oil. An awning was provided, and a wind-sail
furnished to
conduct fresh air
between the decks during the day. But of
this we
were always
deprived at night, when we most needed it, as the gratings
must always be
fastened over the hatchway and I presume that our
keepers were
fearful if it was allowed to run, we might use it as a
means of escape.
"We were,
however, obliged to submit to all our privations, consoling
ourselves only with
the faint hope that the favorable change in our
situation, which we
had observed for the last few days, might lead to
something still
more beneficial, although we saw little prospect of
escape from the
raging pestilence, except through the immediate
interposition of
divine Providence, or by a removal from the scene of
contagion."
_Note_. From the
_New Jersey Gazette_, July 24th, 1782. "New
London. July 21st.
We are informed that Sir Guy Carleton has visited
all the prison
ships at New York, minutely examined into the situation
of the prisoners,
and expressed his intention of having them better
provided for. That
they were to be landed on Blackwell's Island, in
New York harbour,
in the daytime, during the hot season."
CHAPTER XLII
THE EXCHANGE
"Soon after
Captain Aborn had been permitted to go to Long Island on
his parole, he sent
a message on board the Jersey, informing us that
his parole had been
extended so far as to allow him to return home,
but that he should
visit us previous to his departure. He requested
our First
Lieutenant, Mr. John Tillinghast, to
provide a list of the
names of those
captured in the Chance who had died, and also a list of
the survivors,
noting where each survivor was then confined, whether
on board the
Jersey, or one of the Hospital ships.
"He also
requested that those of our number who wished to write to
their friends at
home, would have their letters ready for delivery to
him, whenever he
should come on board. The occupants of the Gun-room,
and such of the
other prisoners as could procure the necessary
materials were,
therefore, soon busily engaged in writing as
particular
descriptions of our situation as they thought it prudent to
do, without the
risk of the destruction of the letters; as we were
always obliged to
submit our writing for inspection previous to its
being allowed to
pass from the ship. We, however,
afterwards
regretted that on
this occasion our descriptions were not more minute,
as these letters
were not examined.
"The next day
Captain Aborn came on board, accompanied by several
other persons, who
had also been liberated on parole; but they came no
nearer to the
prisoners than the head of the gangway-ladder, and
passed through the
door of the barricade to the Quarter-deck. This was
perhaps a necessary
precaution against the contagion, as they were
more liable to be
affected by it than if they had always remained on
board; but we were
much disappointed at not having an opportunity to
speak to them. Our
letters were delivered to Captain Aborn by our
Lieutenant, through
whom he sent us assurances of his determination to
do everything in
his power for our relief, and that if a sufficient
number of British
prisoners could be procured, every survivor of his
vessel's crew
should be exchanged; and if this could not be effected
we might depend
upon receiving clothing and such other necessary
articles as could
be sent for our use.
"About this
time some of the sick were sent on shore on Blackwell's
Island. This was
considered a great indulgence. I endeavored to obtain
leave to join them
by feigning sickness, but did not succeed.
"The removal
of the sick was a great relief to us, as the air was less
foul between decks,
and we had more room for motion. Some of the bunks
were removed, and
the sick were carried on shore as soon as their
condition was
known. Still, however, the pestilence did not abate on
board, as the
weather was extremely warm. In the daytime the heat was
excessive, but at
night it was intolerable.
"But we lived
on hope, knowing that, in all probability, our friends
at home had ere
then been apprised of our condition, and that some
relief might
perhaps be soon afforded us.
"Such was our
situation when, one day, a short time before sunset, we
described a sloop
approaching us, with a white flag at her mast-head,
and knew, by that
signal, that she was a Cartel, and from the
direction in which
she came supposed her to be from some of the
Eastern States. She
did not approach near enough to satisfy our
curiosity, until we
were ordered below for the night.
"Long were the
hours of the night to the survivors of our crew. Slight
as was the
foundation on which our hopes had been raised, we had clung
to them as our last
resource. No sooner were the gratings removed in
the morning than we
were all upon deck, gazing at the Cartel. Her deck
was crowded with
men, whom we supposed to be British prisoners. In a
few moments they
began to enter the Commissary's boats, and proceeded
to New York.
"In the
afternoon a boat from the Cartel came alongside the hulk,
having on board the
Commissary of Prisoners, and by his side sat our
townsman, Captain
William Corey, who came on board with the joyful
information that the
sloop was from Providence with English prisoners
to be exchanged for
the crew of the Chance. The number which she had
brought was forty,
being more than sufficient to redeem every survivor
of our crew then on
board the Jersey.
"I immediately
began to prepare for my departure.
Having placed the
few articles of
clothing which I possessed in a bag (for, by one of
our By-laws, no
prisoner, when liberated, could remove his chest) I
proceeded to
dispose of my other property on board, and after having
made sundry small
donations of less value, I concluded by giving my
tin kettle to one
of my friends, and to another the remnant of my
cleft of firewood.
"I then
hurried to the upper deck, in order to be ready to answer to
my name, well
knowing that I should hear no second call, and that no
delay would be
allowed.
"The
Commissary and Captain Corey were standing together on the
Quarter-deck; and
as the list of names was read, our Lieutenant,
Mr. Tillinghast,
was directed to say whether the person called was one
of the crew of the
Chance. As soon as this assurance was given, the
individual was
ordered to pass down the Accommodation ladder into the
boat. Cheerfully
was the word 'Here!' responded by each survivor as
his name was
called. My own turn at length came, and the Commissary
pointed to the
boat. I never moved with a lighter step,
for that
moment was the
happiest of my life. In the excess and overflowing of
my joy, I even
forgot, for awhile, the detestable character of the
Commissary himself,
and even, Heaven forgive me! bestowed a bow upon
him as I passed.
"We took our
stations in the boat in silence. No congratulations were
heard among us. Our
feelings were too deep for utterance. For my own
part, I could not
refrain from bursting into tears of joy.
"Still there
were moments when it seemed impossible that we were in
reality without the
limits of the Old Jersey. We dreaded the idea that
some unforeseen
event might still detain us; and shuddered with the
apprehension that
we might yet be returned to our dungeons.
"When the
Cartel arrived the surviving number of our crew on board the
Old Jersey was but
thirty-five. This fact being well known
to
Mr. Tillinghast,
and finding that the Cartel had brought forty
prisoners, he
allowed five of our comrades in the Gun-room to answer
to the names of the
same number of our crew who had died; and having
disguised them in
the garb of common seamen, they passed unsuspected.
"It was nearly
sunset when we had all arrived on board the Cartel. No
sooner had the
exchange been completed than the Commissary left us,
with our prayers
that we might never behold him more. I then cast my
eyes towards the
hulk, as the horizontal rays of the sunset glanced on
her polluted sides,
where, from the bend upwards, filth of every
description had
been permitted to accumulate for years; and the
feeling of disgust
which the sight occasioned was indescribable.
The
multitude on her
Spar-deck and Fore-castle were in motion, and in the
act of descending
for the night; presenting the same appearance that
met my sight when,
nearly five months before, I had, at the same hour,
approached her as a
prisoner."
It appears that
many other seamen on board the Jersey and the Hospital
ships were
exchanged as a good result of the Memorial addressed to
General Washington.
An issue of the _Royal Gazette_ of New York,
published on the
17th of July, 1782, contains the following statement:
"The following
is a Statement of the Navy Prisoners who have, within
the 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 world
in this _Gazette_,
dated July 3rd, the real state and condition
of their
countrymen, prisoners here, and the true cause of their
durance and
sufferings, we are informed was greatly conducive to the
bringing this
exchange into a happy effect. We have only to lament
that the endeavors
of those who went, for the same laudable purpose,
to Philadelphia,
have not hitherto been so fortunate."
This was published
before the release of Captain Dring and the crew of
the Chance, and
shows that they were not the only prisoners who were
so happy as to be
exchanged that summer. It is possible that the crew
of the Chance is
referred to in this extract from the _Pennsylvania
Packet_,
Philadelphia, Thursday, August 15th, 1782: "Providence,
July 27th. Sunday
last a flag of truce returned here from New York,
and brought 39
prisoners."
CHAPTER XLIII
THE CARTEL--CAPTAIN
DRING'S NARRATIVE (CONTINUED)
"On his
arrival in Providence Captain Aborn had lost no time in making
the details of our
sufferings publicly known; and a feeling of deep
commiseration was
excited among our fellow citizens.
Messrs. Clarke
and Nightingale,
the former owners of the Chance, in conjunction with
other gentlemen,
expressed their determination to spare no exertion or
expense necessary
to procure our liberty. It was found that forty
British prisoners
were at that time in Boston. These were immediately
procured, and
marched to Providence, where a sloop owned and commanded
by a Captain
Gladding of Bristol was chartered, to proceed with the
prisoners forthwith
to New York, that they might be exchanged for an
equal number of our
crew. Captain Corey was appointed as an Agent to
effect the
exchange, and to receive us from the Jersey; and having
taken on board a
supply of good provisions and water, he hastened to
our relief. He received much assistance in effecting his
object from
our townsman, Mr.
John Creed, at that time Deputy Commissary of
Prisoners. I do not
recollect the exact day of our deliverance, but
think it was early
in the month of October * * * We were obliged to
pass near the shore
of Blackwell's Island, where were several of our
crew, who had been
sent on shore among the sick. They had learned that
the Cartel had
arrived from Providence for the purpose of redeeming
the crew of the
Chance, and expected to be taken on board. Seeing us
approaching they
had, in order to cause no delay, prepared for their
departure, and
stood together on the shore, with their bundles in
their hands; but,
to their unutterable disappointment and dismay, they
saw us pass by. We
knew them and bitterly did we lament the necessity
of leaving them
behind. We could only wave our hands as we passed; but
they could not
return the salutation, and stood as if petrified with
horror, like
statues fixed immovably to the earth, until we had
vanished from their
sight.
"I have since
seen and conversed with one of these unfortunate men,
who afterwards made
his escape. He informed me that their
removal
from the Jersey to
the Island was productive of the most beneficial
effects upon their
health, and that they had been exulting at the
improvement of
their condition; but their terrible disappointment
overwhelmed them
with despair. They then considered their
fate
inevitable, believing
that in a few days they must again be conveyed
on board the hulk;
there to undergo all the agonies of a second
death. * * *
Several of our crew were sick when we entered the Cartel,
and the sudden
change of air and diet caused some new cases of
fever. One of our
number, thus seized by the fever, was a young man
named Bicknell of
Barrington, R. I. He was unwell when we left the
Jersey, and his
symptoms indicated the approaching fever; and when we
entered
Narragansett Bay, he was apparently dying. Being informed that
we were in the Bay
he begged to be taken on deck, or at least to the
hatchway, that he
might look once more upon his native land.
He said
that he was
sensible of his condition; that the hand of death was upon
him; but that he
was consoled by the thought that he should be
decently interred,
and be suffered to rest among his friends and
kindred. I was
astonished at the degree of resignation and composure
with which he
spoke. He pointed to his father's house, as we
approached it, and
said it contained all that was dear to him upon
earth. He requested
to be put on shore.
"Our Captain
was intimately acquainted with the family of the
sufferer; and as
the wind was light we dropped our anchor, and
complied with his
request. He was placed in the boat,
where I took a
seat by his side;
in order to support him; and, with two boys at the
oars, we left the
sloop. In a few minutes his strength began rapidly
to fail. He laid
his fainting head upon my shoulder, and said he was
going to the shore
to be buried with his ancestors; that this had long
been his ardent
desire, and that God had heard his prayers. No sooner
had we touched the
shore than one of the boys was sent to inform his
family of the
event. They hastened to the boat to receive their long
lost son and
brother, but we could only give them his yet warm and
lifeless
corpse."
OUR ARRIVAL HOME
"After
remaining a few moments with the friends of our deceased
comrade we returned
to the sloop and proceeded up the river. It was
about eight o'clock
in the evening when we reached Providence. There
were no quarantine
regulations to detain us; but, as the yellow fever
was raging among
us, we took the precaution to anchor in the middle of
the stream. It was
a beautiful moonlit evening, and the intelligence
of our arrival
having spread through the town, the nearest wharf was
in a short time
crowded with people drawn together by curiosity, and a
desire for
information relative to the fate of their friends and
connections.
"Continual inquiries
were made from the anxious crowd on the land
respecting the
condition of several different individuals on board. At
length the
information was given that some of our number were below,
sick with the
yellow fever. No sooner was this fact announced than the
wharf was totally
deserted, and in a few moments not a human being
remained in sight.
The Old Jersey fever as it was called, was well
known throughout
the whole country. All were acquainted with its
terrible effects;
and it was shunned as if its presence were certain
destruction.
"After the
departure of the crowd, the sloop was brought alongside the
wharf, and every
one who could walk immediately sprang on shore. So
great was the dread
of the pestilence, and so squalid and emaciated
were the figures
which we presented, that those among us whose
families did not
reside in Providence found it almost impossible to
gain admittance
into any dwelling. There being at that
time no
hospital in or near
the town, and no preparations having been made for
the reception of
the sick, they were abandoned for that night. They
were, however,
supplied in a few hours with many small articles
necessary for their
immediate comfort, by the humane people in the
vicinity of the
wharf. The friends of the sick who belonged in the
vicinity of the
town were immediately informed of our arrival, and in
the course of the
following day these were removed from the
vessel. For the
remainder of the sufferers ample provision was made
through the
generous exertions of Messrs. Clarke and Nightingale.
"Solemn indeed
are the reflections which crowd upon my mind as I
review the events
which are here recorded. Forty-two years have passed
away since this
remnant of our ill-fated crew were thus liberated from
their wasting
captivity. In that time what changes have taken place!
Of their whole
number but three are now alive. James Pitcher,
Dr. Joseph Bowen,
and myself, are the sole survivors. Of the officers
I alone
remain."
CHAPTER XLIV
CORRESPONDENCE OF
WASHINGTON AND OTHERS
General Washington
cannot with justice be blamed for any part of the
sufferings
inflicted upon the naval prisoners on board the prison
ships. Although he had nothing whatever to do with
the American Navy,
or the crews of
privateers captured by the British, yet he exerted
himself in every
way open to him to endeavor to obtain their exchange,
or, at least, a
mitigation of their sufferings, and this in spite of
the immense weight
of cares and anxieties that devolved upon him in
his conduct of the
war. Much of his correspondence on the
subject of
these unfortunate
prisoners has been given to the world.
We deem it
necessary, in a
work of this character, to reproduce some of it here,
not only because
this correspondence is his most perfect vindication
from the charge of
neglect that has been brought against him, but also
because it has much
to do with the proper understanding of this
chronicle.
One of the first of
the letters from which we shall quote was written
by Washington from
his headquarters to Admiral Arbuthnot, then
stationed at New
York, on the 25th of January 1781.
Sir:
Through a variety
of channels, representations of too serious a nature
to be disregarded
have come to us, that the American naval prisoners
in the harbor of
New York are suffering all the extremity of distress,
from a too crowded
and in all respects disagreeable and unwholesome
situation, on board
the Prison-ships, and from the want of food and
other
necessaries. The picture given us of
their sufferings is truly
calamitous and deplorable.
If just, it is the obvious interest of both
parties, omitting
the plea of humanity, that the causes should be
without delay
inquired into and removed; and if false, it is equally
desirable that
effectual measures should be taken to obviate
misapprehensions. This can only be done by permitting an
officer, of
confidence on both
sides, to visit the prisoners in their respective
confinements, and
to examine into their true condition. This will
either at once
satisfy you that by some abuse of trust in the persons
immediately charged
with the care of the prisoners, their treatment is
really such as has
been described to us and requires a change; or it
will convince us
that the clamors are ill-grounded. A disposition to
aggravate the
miseries of captivity is too illiberal to be imputed to
any but those
subordinate characters, who, in every service, are too
often remiss and
unprincipled. This reflection assures me
that you
will acquiesce in
the mode proposed for ascertaining the truth and
detecting
delinquency on one side, or falsehood on the other. The
discussions and
asperities which have had too much place on the
subject of
prisoners are so irksome in themselves, and have had so
many ill consequences,
that it is infinitely to be wished that there
may be no room
given for reviving them. The mode I have
suggested
appears to me
calculated to bring the present case to a fair, direct,
and satisfactory
issue. I am not sensible of any inconvenience it can
be attended with,
and I therefore hope for your concurrence.
I should be glad,
as soon as possible, to hear from you on the
subject.
I have the honor to
be, etc.,
George Washington.
To this letter,
written in January, Admiral Arbuthnot did not reply
until the latter
part of April. He then wrote:
Royal Oak Office
April 2lst. 1781.
Sir:
If I had not been
very busy when I received your letter dated the 25
of Jan. last,
complaining of the treatment of the naval prisoners at
this place, I
certainly should have answered it before this time; and,
notwithstanding
that I then thought, as I now do, that my own
testimony would
have been sufficient to put the truth past a doubt, I
ordered the
strictest scrutiny to be made into the condition of all
parties concerned
in the victualling and treatment of those
unfortunate people.
Their several testimonies you must have seen, and
I give you my honor
that the transaction was conducted with such
strict care and
impartiality that you may rely on its validity.
Permit me now, Sir,
to request that you will take the proper steps to
cause Mr. Bradford,
your Commissary, and the Jailor at Philadelphia,
to abate the
inhumanity which they exercise indiscriminately upon all
people who are so
unfortunate as to be carried into that place.
I will not trouble
you, Sir, with a catalogue of grievances, further
than to request
that the unfortunate may feel as little of the
severities of war
as the circumstances of the time will permit, that
in future they may
not be fed in winter with salted clams, and that
they may be
afforded a sufficiency of fuel.
I am, Sir,
your most obdt and
hble srvt
M. Arbuthnot.
Probably the
American prisoners would have been glad to eat salted
clams, rather than
diseased pork, and, as has been shown, they were
sometimes frozen to
death on board the prison ships, where no fire
except for cooking
purposes seems ever to have been allowed.
In August, 1781, a
committee appointed by Congress to examine into the
condition of naval
prisoners reported among other things as follows:
"The Committee
consisting of Mr. Boudinot, Mr. Sharpe, Mr. Clymer,
appointed to take
into consideration the state of the American
prisoners in the
power of the enemy report:
"That they
have collected together and cursorily looked into various
evidences of the
treatment our unhappy fellow-citizens, prisoners with
the enemy, have
heretofore and do still meet with, and find the
subject of so
important and serious a nature as to demand much greater
attention, and
fuller consideration than the present distant situation
of those confined
on board the Prison-ships at New York will now admit
of, wherefor they
beg leave to make a partial representation, and
desire leave to sit
again. * * *"
PART OF THE REPORT
OF THE COMMITTEE
"A very large
number of marine prisoners and citizens of these United
States taken by the
enemy, are now closely confined on board
Prison-ships in the
harbor of New York.
"That the said
Prison-ships are so unequal in size to the number of
prisoners, as not
to admit of a possibility of preserving life in this
warm season of the
year, they being crowded together in such a manner
as to be in danger
of suffocation, as well as exposed to every kind of
putrid,
pestilential disorder:
"That no
circumstances of the enemy's particular situation can justify
this outrage on
humanity, it being contrary to the usage and customs
of civilizations,
thus deliberately to murder their captives in cold
blood, as the enemy
will not assert that Prison-ships, equal to the
number of
prisoners, cannot be obtained so as to afford room
sufficient for the
necessary purposes of life:
"That the
enemy do daily improve these distresses to enlist and compel
many of our
citizens to enter on board their ships of war, and thus to
fight against their
fellow citizens, and dearest connections.
"That the said
Marine prisoners, until they can be exchanged should be
supplied with such
necessaries of clothing and provisions as can be
obtained to
mitigate their present sufferings.
"That,
therefor, the Commander-in-chief be and he is hereby instructed
to remonstrate to
the proper officer within the enemy's lines, on the
said unjustifiable
treatment of our Marine prisoners, and demand, in
the most express
terms, to know the reasons of this unnecessary
severity towards
them; and that the Commander-in-chief transmit such
answer as may be
received thereon to Congress, that decided measures
for due retaliation
may be adopted, if a redress of these evils be not
immediately given.
"That the
Commander-in-chief be and he is hereby also instructed to
direct to supply
the said prisoners with such provisions and light
clothing for their
present more comfortable subsistence as may be in
his power to
obtain, and in such manner as he may judge most
advantageous for
the United States."
Accordingly
Washington wrote to the officer then commanding at New
York, Commodore
Affleck, as follows:
Headquarters,
August 21 1781
Sir:
The almost daily
complaints of the severities exercised towards the
American marine
prisoners in New York have induced the Hon. the
Congress of the
United States to direct me to remonstrate to the
commanding officer
of his British Majesty's ships of war in the harbor
upon the subject;
and to report to them his answer. The principal
complaint now is,
the inadequacy of the room in the Prison-ships to
the number of
prisoners, confined on board of them, which causes the
death of many, and
is the occasion of most intolerable inconvenience
and distresses to
those who survive. This line of conduct is the more
aggravating, as the
want of a greater number of Prison-ships, or of
sufficient room on
shore, can hardly be pleaded in excuse.
As a bare denial of
what has been asserted by so many individuals who
have unfortunately
experienced the miseries I have mentioned, will not
be satisfactory, I
have to propose that our Commissary-general of
prisoners, or any
other officer, who shall be agreed upon, shall have
liberty to visit
the ships, inspect the situation of the prisoners,
and make a report,
from an exact survey of the situation in which they
may be found,
whether, in his opinion, there has been any just cause
of complaint.
I shall be glad to
be favored with an answer as soon as convenient.
I have the honor to
be
yr most obdt srvt
George Washington
AFFLECK'S REPLY
New York 30 August
1781
Sir:
I intend not either
to deny or to assert, for it will neither
facilitate business,
nor alleviate distress. The subject of your
letter seems to
turn on two points, namely the inconvenience and
distresses which
the American prisoners suffer from the inadequacy of
room in the
Prison-ships, which occasions the death of many of them,
as you are told;
and that a Commissary-general of prisoners from you
should have liberty
to visit the ships, inspect the situation of the
prisoners, and make
a report from an actual survey. I take
leave to
assure you that I
feel for the distresses of mankind as much as any
man; and since my
commission to the naval command of the department,
one of my principal
endeavors has been to regulate the Prison and
hospital ships.
The Government
having made no other provision for naval prisoners than
shipping, it is
impossible that the greater inconvenience which people
confined on board
ships experience beyond those confined on shore can
be avoided, and a
sudden accumulation of people often aggravates the
evil.
But I assure you
that every attention is shown that is possible, and
that the
Prison-ships are under the very same Regulations here that
have been
constantly observed towards the prisoners of all nations in
Europe. Tables of
diet are publicly affixed; officers visit every
week, redress and
report grievances, and the numbers are thinned as
they can provide
shipping, and no attention has been wanting.
The latter point
cannot be admitted to its full extent; but if you
think fit to send
an officer of character to the lines for that
purpose, he will be
conducted to me, and he shall be accompanied by an
officer, and become
a witness to the manner in which we treat the
prisoners, and I
shall expect to have my officer visit the prisoners
detained in your
jails and dungeons in like manner, as well as in the
mines, where I am
informed many an unhappy victim languishes out his
days. I must
remark, had Congress ever been inclined, they might have
contributed to
relieve the distress of those whom we are under the
necessity of
holding as prisoners, by sending in all in their
possession towards
the payment of the large debt they owe us on that
head, which might
have been an inducement towards liberating many now
in captivity. I have the honor to be, Sir, with due
respect, etc,
Edmund Affleck
Much correspondence
passed between the English and American
Commissaries of
Prisoners, as well as between Washington and the
commanding officer
at New York on the subject of the naval prisoners,
but little good
seems to have been effected thereby until late in the
war, when
negotiations for peace had almost progressed to a finish. We
have seen that, in
the summer of 1782, the hard conditions on board
the prison ships
were in some measure mitigated, and that the sick
were sent to
Blackwell's Island, where they had a chance for life. We
might go on
presenting much more of the correspondence on both sides,
and detail all the
squabbles about the number of prisoners exchanged;
their treatment
while in prison; and other subjects of dispute, but
the conclusion of the
whole matter was eloquently written in the sands
of the Wallabout,
where the corpses of thousands of victims to British
cruelty lay for so
many years. We will therefore give only a few
further extracts
from the correspondence and reports on the subject,
as so much of it
was tedious and barren of any good result.
In December of the
year 1781 Washington, on whom the duty devolved of
writing so many of
the letters, and receiving so many insulting
replies, wrote to
the President of Congress as follows:
"I have taken
the liberty of enclosing the copies of two letters from
the
Commissary-general of Prisoners setting forth the debt which is
due from us on
account of naval prisoners; the number remaining in
captivity, their
miserable situation, and the little probability there
is of procuring
their release for the want of proper subjects in our
hands.
"Before we
proceed into an inquiry into the measures that ought to be
adopted to enable
us to pay our debt, and to affect the exchange of
those who still
remain in captivity, a matter which it may take some
time to determine,
humanity and policy point out the necessity of
administering to
the pressing wants of a number of the most valuable
subjects of the
republic.
"Had they been
taken in the Continental service, I should have thought
myself authorized
in conjunction with the Minister of War to apply a
remedy, but as the
greater part of them were not thus taken, as
appears by Mr.
Skinner's representation, I must await the decision of
Congress upon the
subject.
"Had a system,
some time ago planned by Congress and recommended to
the several States,
been adopted and carried fully into execution, I
mean that of
obliging all Captains of private vessels to deliver over
their prisoners to
the Continental Commissioners upon certain
conditions, I am
persuaded that the numbers taken and brought into the
many ports of the
United States would have amounted to a sufficiency
to have exchanged
those taken from us; but instead of that, it is to
be feared, that few
in proportion were secured, and that the few who
are sent in, are so
partially applied, that it creates great disgust
in those
remaining. The consequence of which is,
that conceiving
themselves
neglected, and seeing no prospect of relief, many of them
entered into the
enemy's service, to the very great loss of our
trading interest.
Congress will, therefore, I hope, see the necessity
of renewing their
former, or making some similar recommendation to the
States.
"In addition
to the motives above mentioned, for wishing that the
whole business of
prisoners of war might be brought under one general
regulation, there
is another of no small consideration, which is, that
it would probably
put a stop to those mutual complaints of ill
treatment which are
frequently urged on each part. For it is a fact
that, for above two
years, we have had no occasion to complain of the
treatment of the
Continental land prisoners in New York, neither have
we been charged
with any improper conduct towards those in our
hands. I consider
the sufferings of the seamen, for some time past, as
arising in great
measure from the want of that general regulation
which has been
spoken of, and without which there will constantly be a
great number remaining
in the hands of the enemy. * * *"
Again in February
of the year 1782 Washington wrote to Congress from
Philadelphia as
follows:
Feb. 18, 1782.
* * * "Mr.
Sproat's proposition of the exchange of British soldiers for
American seamen, if
acceded to, will immediately give the enemy a very
considerable
re-enforcement, and will be a constant draft hereafter
upon the prisoners
of war in our hands. It ought also to be considered
that few or none of
the Continental naval prisoners in New York or
elsewhere belong to
the Continental service. I, however,
feel for the
situation of these
unfortunate people, and wish to see them relieved
by any mode, which
will not materially affect the public good. In some
former letters upon
this subject I have mentioned a plan, by which I
am certain they
might be liberated nearly as fast as they are
captured. It is by
obliging the Captains of all armed vessels, both
public and private,
to throw their prisoners into common stock, under
the direction of
the Commissary-general of prisoners. By this means
they would be taken
care of, and regularly applied to the exchange of
those in the hands
of the enemy. Now the greater part are dissipated,
and the few that
remain are applied partially. * * *"
James Rivington
edited a paper in New York during the Revolution, and,
in 1782, the
American prisoners on board the Jersey addressed a letter
to him for
publication, which is given below.
"On Board the
Prison-ship Jersey, June 11, 1782.
"Sir:
Enclosed are five
letters, which if you will give a place in your
newspaper will
greatly oblige a number of poor prisoners who seem to
be deserted by our
own countrymen, who has it in their power, and will
not exchange us. In
behalf of the whole we beg leave to subscribe
ourselves, Sir, yr
much obliged srvts,
"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 the
Jersey, New York.
"June 11 1782
"This will be
handed you by Captain Daniel Aborn, and Dr, Joseph
Bowen, who,
agreeable to your petition to his Excellency, Rear-Admiral
Digby, have been
permitted to go out, and are now returned from
General
Washington's Head-quarters, where they delivered your petition
to him,
representing your disagreeable situation at this extreme hot
season of the year,
and in your names solicited his Excellency to
grant your speedy
relief, by exchanging you for a part of the British
_soldiers_ in his
hands, the only possible means in his power to
effect it. Mr.
Aborn and the Doctor waits on you with his answer,
which I am sorry to
say is a flat denial.
"Enclosed I
send you copies of three letters which have passed between
Mr. Skinner and me,
on the occasion, which will convince you that
everything has been
done on the part of Admiral Digby, to bring about
a fair and general
exchange of prisoners on both sides. I am
"your most
hble Srvt,
"David Sproat
"Comm. Gen.
for Naval Prisoners."
ENCLOSURES SENT BY
D. SPROAT
David Sproat to
Abraham Skinner, American Commissary
of Prisoners.
New York lst June
1782
"Sir:
"When I last
saw you at Elizabeth Town I mentioned the bad
consequences which,
in all probability, would take place in the hot
weather if an
exchange of prisoners was not agreed to by the
commissioners on
the part of General Washington. His Excellency
Rear-Admiral Digby
has ordered me to inform you, that the very great
increase of
prisoners and heat of the weather now baffles all our care
and attention to
keep them healthy. Five ships have been taken up for
their reception, to
prevent being crowded, and a great number
permitted to go on
parole.
"In Winter,
and during the cold weather, they lived comfortably, being
fully supplied with
warm cloathing, blankets, etc, purchased with the
money which I
collected from the charitable people of this city; but
now the weather
requires a fresh supply--something light and suitable
for the season--for
which you will be pleased to make the necessary
provision, as it is
impossible for them to be healthy in the rags they
now wear, without a
single shift of cloathing to keep themselves
clean. Humanity,
sympathy, my duty and orders obliges me to trouble
you again on this
disagreeable subject, to request you will lose no
time in laying
their situation before his Excellency General
Washington, who, I
hope, will listen to the cries of a distressed
people, and grant
them, (as well as the British prisoners in his
hands) relief, by
consenting to a general and immediate exchange.
"I am, sir,
etc,
"David
Sproat."
It is scarcely
necessary to point out to the intelligent reader the
inconsistencies in
this letter. The comfortable prisoners, abundantly
supplied with
blankets and clothing in the winter by the charity of
the citizens of New
York, were so inconsiderate as to go on starving
and freezing to
death throughout that season. Not only so, but their
abundant supply of
clothing was reduced to tattered rags in a
surprisingly short
time, and they were unable to be healthy, "without
a single shift of
clothing to keep themselves clean."
We have already
seen to what straits they were in reality reduced, in
spite of the
private charity of the citizens of New York. We do not
doubt that the few
blankets and other new clothing, if any such were
ever sent on board
the Jersey, were the gifts of private charity, and
not the donation of
the British Government.
No one, we believe,
can blame General Washington for his unwillingness
to add to the
British forces arrayed against his country by exchanging
the captured troops
in the hands of the Americans for the crews of
American
privateers, who were not in the Continental service. As we
have already seen,
the blame does not rest with that great commander,
whose compassion
never blinded his judgment, but with the captains and
owners of American
privateers themselves, and often with the towns of
New England, who
were unwilling to burden themselves with prisoners
taken on the ocean.
The next letter we
will quote is the answer of Commissary Skinner to
David Sproat:
"New York June
9th. 1782
"Sir:
From the present
situation of the American naval prisoners on board
your prison-ships,
I am induced to propose to you the exchange of as
many as I can give
you British naval prisoners for, leaving the
balance already due
you to be paid when in our power. I could wish
this to be
represented to his Excellency, Rear Admiral Digby, and that
the proposal could
be acceded to, as it would relieve many of these
distrest men and be
consistent with the humane purposes of our office.
"I will admit
that we are unable at present to give you seaman for
seaman, and thereby
relieve the prison-ships of their dreadful
burthen, but it
ought to be remembered there is a large balance of
British soldiers
due to the United States, since February last, and
that as we have it
in our power we may be disposed to place the
British soldiers
who are now in our possession in as disagreeable a
situation as those
men are on board the prison ships.
"I 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 his
Excellency Rear
Admiral Digby, Commander in charge, etc, who has
directed me to give
for answer that the balance of prisoners, owing to
the British having
proceeded, from lenity and humanity, on the part of
himself and those
who commanded before his arrival, is surprized you
have not been
induced to offer to exchange them first; and until this
is done can't
consent to your proposal of a partial exchange, leaving
the remainder as
well as the British prisoners in your hands, to
linger in
confinement. Conscious of the American
prisoners under my
direction, being in
every respect taken as good care of as their
situation and ours
will admit. You must not believe that Admiral Digby
will depart from the
justice of this measure because you have it in
your power to make
the British prisoners with you more miserable than
there is any
necessity for. I am, Sir,
"yr hble servt
"David
Sproat."
The prisoners on
board the Jersey published in the _Royal
Gazette_ 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 are
now on board the
Jersey prison ships at New York, unless you rouse the
government to
comply with the just and honorable proposals, which has
already been done
on the part of Britons, but alas! it is with pain we
inform you, that
our petition to his Excellency General Washington,
offering our
services to the country during the present campaign, if
he would send
soldiers in exchange for us, is frankly denied.
"What is to be
done? Are we to lie here and share the fate of our
unhappy brothers
who are dying daily? No, unless you relieve us
immediately, we
shall be under the necessity of leaving our country,
in preservation of
our lives.
"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 the
Mr. Cooper
mentioned by Dring as the orator of the Jersey we do not
know, but it is not
improbable. Nine Coopers are included in the list,
given in the
appendix to this volume, of prisoners on the Jersey, but
no John Cooper is
among them. The list is exceedingly
imperfect. Of
the other signers
of the address only two, George Wanton and John
Sheffield, can be
found within its pages. It is very certain that it
is incomplete, and
it probably does not contain more than half the
names of the
prisoners who suffered on board that dreadful
place. David Sproat
won the hatred and contempt of all the American
prisoners who had
anything to do with him. One of his most dastardly
acts was the paper
which he drew up in June, 1782, and submitted to a
number of American
sea captains for their signature, which he obtained
from them by threats
of taking away their parole in case of their
refusal, and
sending them back to a captivity worse than death. This
paper, _which they
signed without reading_ was to the following
effect:
LETTER PURPORTING
TO BE FROM A COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS, NAVAL PRISONERS
OF WAR TO J.
RIVINGTON, WITH A REPRESENTATION OF A COMMITTEE ON THE
CONDITION OF THE
PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
New York, June 22,
1782.
Sir:
We beg you will be
pleased to give the inclosed Report and Resolve of
a number of Masters
of American Vessels, a place in your next
Newspaper, for the
information of the public. In order to undeceive
numbers of our
countrymen without the British lines, who have not had
an opportunity of
seeing the state and situation of the prisoners of
New York as we have
done. We are, Sir,
yr most obdt, hble
srvts,
Robert Harris,
Captain of the sloop Industry
John Chace
Charles Collins,
Captain of the Sword-fish
Philemon Haskell
Jonathan Carnes
REPORT
We whose names are
hereunto subscribed, late Masters of American
vessels, which have
been captured by the British cruisers and brought
into this port,
having obtained the enlargement of our paroles from
Admiral Digby, to
return to our respective homes, being anxious before
our departure to
know the true state and situation of the prisoners
confined on board
the prison ships and hospital ships for that
purpose, have
requested and appointed six of our number, viz,
R. Harris, J.
Chace, Ch. Collins, P. Haskell, J.
Carnes and
Christopher Smith,
to go on board the said prison ships for that
purpose and the
said six officers aforesaid having gone on board five
of the vessels,
attended by Mr. D. Sproat, Com. Gen. for
Naval
Prisoners, and Mr.
George Rutherford, Surgeon to the hospital ships,
do report to us that
they have found them in as comfortable a
situation as it is
possible for prisoners to be on board of ships at
this season of the
year, and much more so than they had any idea of,
and that anything
said to the contrary is false and without
foundation. That
they inspected their beef, pork, flour, bread,
oatmeal, pease,
butter, liquors, and indeed every species of
provisions which is
issued on board his British Majesty's ships of
war, and found them
all good of their kind, which survey being made
before the
prisoners, they acknowledged the same and declared they had
no complaint to
make but the want of cloaths and a speedy exchange. We
therefore from this
report and what we have all seen and known, _Do
Declare_ that great
commendation is due to his Excellency Rear
Admiral Digby, for
his humane disposition and indulgence to his
prisoners, and also
to those he entrusts the care of them to; viz: To
the Captain and
officers of his Majesty's prison-ship Jersey, for
their attention in
preserving good order, having the ship kept clean
and awnings spread
over _the whole_ of her, fore and aft: To Dr
Rutherford, and the
Gentlemen acting under him * * *, for their
constant care and
attendance on the sick, whom we found in wholesome,
clean sheets, also
covered with awnings, fore and aft, every man
furnished with a
cradle, bed, and sheets, made of good Russia linen,
to lay in; the best
of fresh provisions, vegetables, wine, rice,
barley, etc, which
was served out to them. And we further do declare
in justice to Mr.
Sproat, and the gentlemen acting under him in his
department, that
they conscientiously do their duty with great
humanity and
indulgence to the prisoners, and reputation to
themselves; And we
unanimously do agree that nothing is wanting to
preserve the lives
and health of those unfortunate prisoners but clean
cloaths and a
speedy exchange, which testimony we freely give without
restriction and
covenant each with the other to endeavor to effect
their exchange as
soon as possible:
For the remembrance
of this our engagement we have furnished ourselves
with copies of this
instrument of writing. Given under our hands in
New York the 22 of
June, 1782.
Signed:
Robert Harris
John Chace
Charles Collins
Philemon Haskell
]. Carnes
Christopher Smith
James Gaston
John Tanner
Daniel Aborn
Richard Mumford
Robert Clifton
John McKeever
Dr. J. Bowen.
The publication of
this infamously false circular roused much
indignation among
patriotic Americans, and no one believed it a
trustworthy
statement. The _Independent Chronicle_, in its issue
for August, 1782,
had the following refutation: [Footnote: This letter
is said to have
been written by Captain Manly, _five times_ a
prisoner during the
Revolution.]
"Mr Printer:
"Happening to
be at Mr. Bracket's tavern last Saturday, and hearing
two gentlemen
conversing on the surprising alteration in regard to the
treatment our
prisoners met with in New York, and as I have had the
misfortune to be
more than once a prisoner in England, and in
different
prison-ships in New York, and having suffered everything but
death, I cannot
help giving all attention to anything I hear or read
relative to the
treatment our brave countrymen met with on board the
prison-ships of New
York. One of the gentlemen observed that
the
treatment of our
prisoners must certainly be much better, as so many
of our commanders
had signed a paper that was wrote by Mr. David
Sproat, the
commissary of naval prisoners in New York. The other
gentleman answered
and told him he could satisfy him in regard to the
matter, having seen
and conversed with several of the Captains that
signed Mr. Sproat's
paper, who told him that, although they had put
their names to the
paper that Mr. Sproat sent them on Long Island,
where they were
upon parole, yet it was upon these conditions they did
it: in order to
have leave to go home to their wives and families, and
not be sent on
board the prison-ships, as Mr. Sproat had threatened to
do if they refused
to sign the paper that he sent them. These captains
further said, that
they did not read the paper nor hear it read. The
gentleman then
asked them how they could sign their names to a paper
they did not read;
they said it was because they might go home upon
parole. He asked
one of them why he did not contradict it since it had
appeared in the
public papers, and was false: he said he dare not at
present, for fear
of being recalled and sent on board the prison-ship,
and there end his
days: but as soon as he was exchanged he would do
it. If this
gentleman, through fear, dare not contradict such a piece
of falsehood, I
dare, and if I was again confined on board the
prison-ship in New
York, dare again take the boat and make my escape,
although at the
risk of my life.
"Some of the
captains went on board the prison-ship with Mr. Sproat, a
few 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 many
others. The
_Pennsylvania Packet_ of Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782,
published an
affidavit of John Kitts, a former prisoner on board the
Jersey.
"The voluntary
affidavit of John Kitts, of the city of Phila., late
mate of the sloop
Industry, commanded by Robert Harris, taken before
the subscriber,
chief justice of the commonwealth of Pa., the 16th day
of July,
1782.--This deponent saith, that in the month of November
last he was walking
in Front St. with the said Harris and saw in his
hand a paper, which
he told the deponent that he had received from a
certain Captain
Kuhn, who had been lately from New York, where he had
been a prisoner,
and that this deponent understood and believed it was
a permission or
pass to go to New York with any vessel, as it was
blank and
subscribed by Admiral Arbuthnot: that he does not know that
the said Robert
Harris ever made any improper use of said paper."
AFFIDAVIT OF JOHN
COCHRAN, DENYING THE TRUTH OF THE STATEMENTS
CONTAINED IN THE
REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF CAPTAINS
From the
_Pennsylvania Packet_, Phila., Tuesday, Sept. 10, 1782.
"The voluntary
Affidavit of John Cochran, of the city of Phila., late
mate of the ship,
Admiral Youtman, of Phila., taken before the
subscriber, the 16
day of July, 1782.
"The said
deponent saith, that he was taken prisoner on board the
aforesaid ship on
the 12 of March last by the ship Garland, belonging
to the king of
Great Britain, and carried into the city of New York,
on the 15 of the
same month, when he was immediately put on board the
prison-ship Jersey,
with the whole crew of the Admiral Youtman, and
was close confined
there until the first day of this month, when he
made his escape;
that the people on board the said prison-ship were
very sickly
insomuch that he is firmly persuaded, out of near 1000
persons, perfectly
healthy when put on board the same ship, during the
time of his
confinement on board, there are not more than but three or
four hundred now
alive; that when he made his escape there were not
three hundred men
well on board, but upward of 140 very sick, as he
understood and was
informed by the physicians: that there were five or
six men buried
daily under a bank on the shore, without coffins; that
all the larboard
side of the said ship was made use of as a hospital
for the sick, and
was so offensive that he was obliged constantly to
hold his nose as he
passed from the gun-room up the hatchway; that he
seen maggots
creeping out of a wound of one Sullivan's shoulder, who
was the mate of a
vessel out of Virginia; and that his wound remained
undressed for
several days together; that every man was put into the
hold a little after
sundown every night, and the hatches put over him;
and that the tubs
which were kept for the use of the sick * * * were
placed under the
ladder from the hatchway to the hold, and so
offensive day and
night, that they were almost intolerable, and
increased the
number of the sick daily. The deponent
further saith,
that the bilge
water was very injurious in the hold, was muddy and
dirty, and never
was changed or sweetened during the whole time he was
there, nor, as he
was informed and believes to be true, for many years
before; for fear,
as it was reported, the provisions might be injured
thereby; that the
sick in the hospital part of the said ship Jersey,
had no sheets of
Russia, or any other linen, nor beds nor bedding
furnished them; and
those who had no beds of their own, of whom there
were great numbers,
were not even allowed a hammock, but were obliged
to lie on the
planks; that he was on board the said prison ship when
Captain Robert
Harris and others, with David Sproat, the commissary of
prisoners, came on
board her, and that none of them went or attempted
to go below decks,
in said ship, to see the situation of the
prisoners, nor did
they ask a single question respecting the matter,
to this deponent's
knowledge or belief; for that he was present the
whole time they
were on board, and further the deponent saith not.
"John
Cochran"
"Theodore
McKean C. J.
It seems singular
that Sproat should have resorted to such a
contemptible trick,
which deceived few if any persons, for the
reputation of the
Jersey was too notorious for such a refutation to
carry weight on
either side.
In the meantime the
mortality on board continued, and, by a moderate
computation,
two-thirds of her wretched occupants died and were buried
on the shore, their
places being taken by fresh victims, from the many
privateers that
were captured by the British almost daily.
CHAPTER XLV
GENERAL WASHINGTON
AND REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY--COMMISSARIES SPROAT AND
SKINNER
Washington's best
vindication against the charge of undue neglect of
American prisoners
is found in the correspondence on the subject. We
will therefore give
his letter to Rear Admiral Digby, after his
interview with the
committee of three sent from the Jersey to complain
of their treatment
by the British, and to endeavor to negotiate an
exchange.
GENERAL WASHINGTON
TO REAR ADMIRAL DIGBY
Head-Quarters, June
5 1782
Sir:
By a parole,
granted to two gentlemen, Messrs. Aborn
and Bowen, I
perceive that your
Excellency granted them permission to come to me
with a
representation of the sufferings of the American prisoners at
New York. As I have
no agency on Naval matters, this application to me
is made on mistaken
grounds. But curiosity leading me to enquire into
the nature and
cause of their sufferings, I am informed that the prime
complaint is that
of their being crowded, especially at this season,
in great numbers on
board of foul and infected prison ships, where
disease and death
are almost inevitable. This circumstance I am
persuaded needs
only to be mentioned to your Excellency to obtain that
redress which is in
your power _only_ to afford, and which
humanity so
strongly prompts.
If the fortune of
war, Sir, has thrown a number of these miserable
people into your
hands, I am certain your Excellency's feelings for
fellowmen must
induce you to proportion the ships (if they _must_
be confined on
board ships), to their accommodation and comfort, and
not, by crowding
them together in a few, bring on disorders which
consign them, by
half a dozen a day, to the grave.
The soldiers of his
British Majesty, prisoners with us, were they
(which might be the
case), to be equally crowded together in close and
confined prisons,
at this season, would be exposed to equal loss and
misery. I have the honor to be, Sir
Yr Excellency's
most obt
Hble srvt
George Washington
REAR-ADMIRAL
DIGBY'S ANSWER
N. Y. June 8 1782
Sir:
My feelings
prompted me to grant Messrs. Aborn and
Bowen permission
to wait on your
Excellency to represent their miserable situation, and
if your
Excellency's feelings on this occasion are like mine, you will
not hesitate one
moment in relieving both the British and Americans
suffering under
confinement.
I have the Honor to
be your Excellency's
Very 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 letters
which passed
between us on the subject of naval prisoners have been
committed to print,
I must request the same to be done with this which
is intended to
contain some animadversions on those publications.
The principles and
policy which appear to actuate your superiors in
their conduct
towards the American seamen who unfortunately fall into
their power, are
too apparent to admit of a doubt or misapprehension.
I am sorry to
observe, Sir, that notwithstanding the affectation of
candour and
fairness on your part, from the universal tenor of
behaviour on your
side of the lines, it is obvious that the designs of
the British is, by
misrepresenting the state of facts with regard to
exchanges, to
excite jealousy in the minds of our unfortunate seamen,
that they are
neglected by their countrymen, and by attempting to make
them believe that
all the miseries they are now suffering in
consequence of a
pestilential sickness arise from want of inclination
in General
Washington to exchange them when he has it in his power to
do it; in hopes of
being able by this insinuation and by the
unrelenting
severity you make use of in confining them in the
contaminated holds
of prison-ships, to compel them, in order to avoid
the dreadful
alternative of almost inevitable death, to enter the
service of the King
of Great Britain.
To show that these
observations are just and well grounded, I think it
necessary to inform
you of some facts which have happened within my
immediate notice,
and to put you in mind of others which you cannot
deny. I was myself
present at the time when Captain Aborn and
Dr. Bowen * * *
waited on his Excellency General Washington, and know
perfectly well the
answer his Excellency gave to that application: he
informed them in
the first place that he was not directly or
indirectly invested
with any power of inference respecting the
exchange of naval
prisoners; that this business was formerly under the
direction of the
Board of Admiralty, that upon the annihilation of
that Board Congress
had committed it to the Financier (who has in
charge all our
naval prisoners) and he to the Secretary at war. That
(the General) was
notwithstanding disposed to do everything in his
power for their
assistance and relief: that as exchanging seamen for
soldiers was
contrary to the original agreement for the exchange of
prisoners,--which
specified that officers should be exchanged for
officers, soldiers
for soldiers, citizens for citizens, and seamen for
seamen; as it was
contrary to the custom and practice of other
nations, and as it
would be, in his opinion, contrary to the soundest
policy, by giving
the enemy a great and permanent strength for which
we could receive no
compensation, or at best but a partial and
temporary one, he
did not think it would be admissible: but as it
appeared to him,
from a variety of well authenticated information, the
present misery and
mortality which prevailed among the naval prisoners
were almost
entirely, if not altogether produced by the _mode of
their confinement_,
being closely crowded together in infected
prison-ships, where
the very air is pregnant with disease, and the
ships themselves
(never having been cleaned in the course of many
years), a mere mass
of putrefaction, he would therefor, from motives
of humanity, write
to Rear-Admiral Digby, in whose power it was to
remedy this great
evil, by confining them on shore, or having a
sufficient number
of prison-ships provided for that purpose, for, he
observed, it was as
preposterously cruel to confine 800 men, at this
sultry season, on
board the Jersey prison-ship, as it would be to shut
up the whole army
of Lord Cornwallis to perish in the New Goal of
Philadelphia, but
if more commodious and healthy accommodations were
not afforded we had
the means of retaliation in our hands, which he
should not
hesitate, in that case, to make use of, by confining the
land prisoners with
as much severity as our seamen were held.--The
Gentlemen of the
Committee appeared to be sensible of the force of
these reasons,
however repugnant they might be to the feelings and
wishes of the men
who had destruction and death staring them in the
face.
His Excellency was
further pleased to suffer me to go to New York to
examine into the
grounds of the suffering of the prisoners, and to
devise, if
possible, some way or another, for their liberation or
relief. With this permission I went into your lines: and
in
consequence of the
authority I had been previously invested with, from
the Secretary at
War, I made the proposition contained in my letter of
the ninth instant.
Although I could not claim this as a matter of
right I flattered
myself it would have been granted from the
principles of
humanity, as well as other motives. There had been a
balance of 495 land
prisoners due to us ever since the month of
February last, when
a settlement was made; besides which, to the best
of my belief, 400
have been sent in, (this is the true state of the
fact, though it
differs widely from the account of 250 men, which is
falsely stated in
the note annexed to my letter in the New York
paper:)
notwithstanding this balance, I was then about sending into
your lines a number
of land prisoners, as an equivalent for ours, who
were then confined
in the Sugar House, without which (though the debt
was acknowledged, I
could not make interest to have them liberated),
this business has
since been actually negotiated, and we glory in
having our conduct,
such as will bear the strictest scrutiny, and be
found consonant to
the dictates of reason, liberality, and
justice. But, Sir,
since you would not agree to the proposals I made,
since I was refused
being permitted to visit the prison-ships: (for
which I conclude no
other reason can be produced than your being
ashamed or afraid
of having those graves of our seamen seen by one who
dared to represent
the horrors of them to his countrymen,) Since the
commissioners from
your side, at their late meeting, would not enter
into an adjustment
of the accounts for supplying your naval and land
prisoners, on which
there are large sums due us; and since your
superiors will
neither make provision for the support of your
prisoners in our
hands, nor accommodation for the mere existence of
ours, who are now
languishing in your prison-ships, it becomes my
duty, Sir, to state
these pointed facts to you, that the imputations
may recoil where
they are deserved, and to report to those, under
whose authority I
have the honor to act, that such measures as they
deem proper may be
adopted.
And now, Sir, I
will conclude this long letter with observing that not
having a sufficient
number of British seamen in our possession we are
not able to release
urs by exchange:--this is our misfortune, but it
is not a crime, and
ought not to operate as a mortal punishment
against the
unfortunate--we ask no favour, we claim nothing but common
justice and
humanity, while we assert to the whole world, as a
notorious fact,
that the unprecedented inhumanity in the _mode_
of confining our
naval prisoners, to the amount of 800 in one old
hulk, which has
been made use of as a prison-ship for more than three
years, without ever
having been once purified, has been the real and
sole cause of the
deaths of hundreds of brave Americans, who would not
have perished in
that untimely and barbarous manner, had they, (when
prisoners,) been
suffered to breathe a purer air, and to enjoy more
liberal and
convenient accommodations agreeably to the practice of
civilized nations
when at war, (and) the example which has always been
set you by the
Americans. You may say, and I shall admit, that if they
were placed on
islands, and more liberty given them, that some might
desert; but is not
this the case with your prisoners in our hands? And
could we not avoid
this also, if we were to adopt the same rigid and
inhuman mode of
confinement you do?
I beg, Sir, you
will be pleased to consider this as addressed to you
officially, as the
principal executive officer in the department of
naval prisoners,
and not personally, and that you will attribute any
uncommon warmth of
style that I may have been led into to my feeling
and animation on a
subject with which I find myself so much
interested, both
from the principles of humanity and the duties of
office. I am, Sir,
yr most obdt Srvt
Abraham Skinner
Letters full of
recriminations continued to pass between the
commissaries on
both sides. In Sproat's reply to the letter we have
just quoted, he
enclosed a copy of the paper which he had induced the
thirteen sea
captains and other officers to sign, obtained as we have
seen, in such a
dastardly manner.
In the meantime the
naval prisoners continued to die in great numbers
on board the prison
and hospital-ships. We have already
described the
cleansing of the
Jersey, on which occasion the prisoners were sent on
board of other
vessels and exposed to cold and damp in addition to
their other
sufferings. And while negotiations for peace were pending
some relaxation in
severity appears to have taken place.
CHAPTER XLVI
SOME OF THE
PRISONERS ON BOARD THE JERSEY
We have seen that
the crew of the Chance was exchanged in the fall of
1782. A few of the
men who composed this crew were ill at the time
that the exchange
was affected, and had been sent to Blackwell's
Island. Among these
unfortunate sufferers was the sailing-master of
the Chance, whose
name was Sylvester Rhodes.
This gentleman was
born at Warwick, R. I., November 21, 1745. He
married Mary Aborn,
youngest sister of Captain Daniel Aborn, and
entered the service
of his country, in the early part of the war,
sometimes on land,
and sometimes as a seaman. He was with Commodore
Whipple on his
first cruise, and as prize-master carried into Boston
the first prize
captured by that officer. He also served in a Rhode
Island regiment.
When the crew of
the Jersey was exchanged and he was not among the
number, his
brother-in-law, Captain Aborn, endeavored to obtain his
release, but, as he
had been an officer in the army as well as on the
privateer, the
British refused to release him as a seaman. His father,
however, through
the influence of some prominent Tories with whom he
was connected,
finally secured his parole, and Captain Aborn went to
New York to bring
him home. But it was too late. He had become greatly
enfeebled by
disease, and died on board the cartel, while on her
passage through the
Sound, on the 3rd of November, 1782, leaving a
widow and five
children. Mary Aborn Rhodes lived to be 98, dying in
1852, one of the
last survivors of the stirring times of the
Revolution.
WILLIAM DROWNE
One of the most
adventurous of American seamen was William Drowne, who
was taken prisoner
more than once. He was born in Providence, R. I.,
in April 1755.
After many adventures he sailed on the 18th of May,
1780, in the
General Washington, owned by Mr. John Brown of
Providence. In a
Journal kept by Mr. Drowne on board of this ship, he
writes:
"The cruise is
for two months and a half, though should New York fetch
us up again, the
time may be protracted, but it is not in the bargain
to pay that potent
city a visit _this bout_. It may easily be
imagined what a
_sensible mortification_ it must be to dispense
with the delicious
sweets of a Prison-ship. But though the Washington
is deemed a prime
sailor, and is well armed, I will not be too
sanguine in the
prospect of escape, as 'the race is not always to the
swift, nor the
battle to the strong.' But, as I said before, it is not
in the articles to
go there this time, especially as it is said the
prisoners are very
much crowded there already, and it would be a piece
of unfeeling
inhumanity to be adding to their unavoidable
inconvenience by
our presence. Nor could we, in such a case, by any
means expect that
Madam Fortune would deign to smile so propitiously
as she did before,
in the promotion of an exchange so much sooner than
our most sanguine
expectations flattered us with, as 'tis said to be
with no small
difficulty that a parole can be obtained, much more an
exchange."
This cruise
resulted in the capture by the Washington of several
vessels, among them
the Robust, Lord Sandwich, Barrington, and the
Spitfire, a British
privateer.
In May, 1781, Mr.
Drowne sailed on board the Belisarius, commanded by
Captain James
Munro, which vessel was captured on the 26th of July and
brought into the
port of New York. Browne and the other officers were
sent to the Jersey,
where close confinement and all the horrors of the
place soon impaired
his vigorous constitution. Although he was,
through the
influence of his friends, allowed to visit Newport on
parole in November,
1781, he was returned to the prison ship, and was
not released until
some time in 1783. His brother, who was a
physician, nursed
him faithfully, but he died on the 9th of August,
1786. Letters written on board the Jersey have a
melancholy interest
to the student of
history, and this one, written by William Drowne to
a Mrs. Johnston, of
New York, is taken from the appendix to the
"Recollections
of Captain Dring."
Jersey Prison Ship
Sep. 25 1781
Madam:
Your letter to
Captain Joshua Sawyer of the 23d Inst, came on board
this moment, which
I being requested to answer, take the freedom to
do, and with
sensible regret, as it announces the dissolution of the
good man. It was an
event very unexpected. Tis true he had been for
some days very ill,
but a turn in his favor cancel'd all further
apprehension of his
being dangerous, and but yesterday he was able
without assistance
to go upon deck; said he felt much better, and
without any further
Complaints, at the usual time turned into his
Hammock, and as was
supposed went to sleep. Judge of our Surprise and
Astonishment this
morning at being informed of his being found a
lifeless Corpse.
Could anything
nourishing or comfortable have been procured for him
during his illness,
'tis possible He might now have been a well
man. But Heaven
thought proper to take him to itself, and we must not
repine.
A Coffin would have
been procured in case it could be done seasonably,
but his situation
render'd a speedy Interment unavoidable. Agreeably
to which 10 or 12
Gentlemen of his acquaintance presented a petition
to the Commanding
Officer on board, requesting the favor that they
might be permitted,
under the Inspection of a file of Soldiers, to pay
the last sad duties
to a Gentleman of merit; which he humanely
granted, and in the
Afternoon his remains were taken on shore, and
committed to their
native dust in as decent a manner as our situation
would admit.
Myself, in room of a better, officiated in the sacred
office of a
Chaplain and read prayers over the Corpse previous to its
final close in its
gloomy mansion. I have given you these particulars,
Madam, as I was
sensible it must give you great satisfaction to hear
he had some friends
on board. Your benevolent and good intentions to
him shall, (if
Heaven permits my return) be safely delivered to his
afflicted wife, to
give her the sensible Consolation that her late
much esteemed and
affectionate Husband was not destitute of a Friend,
who had wish'd to
do him all the good offices in his power, had not
the hand of fate
prevented.
If you wish to know
anything relative to myself--if you will give
Yourself the
trouble to call on Mrs. James Selhrig,
she will inform
You, or Jos. Aplin,
Esqre.
You will please to
excuse the Liberty I have taken being an entire
stranger. I have no
Views in it but those of giving, as I said before,
satisfaction to one
who took a friendly part towards a Gentleman
decease'd, whom I
very much esteemed. Your goodness will not look with
a critical eye over
the numerous Imperfections of this Epistle.
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 his
sister Sally. This
gentleman was making every effort to obtain his
brother's release
from captivity.
Providence, Oct. 17
1781
Dear Sally:
We have not forgot
you;--but if we think strongly on other objects the
memory of you
returns, more grateful than the airs which fan the
Summer, or all the
golden products of ye Autumn. The Cartel
is still
detained, for what
reason is not fully known. Perhaps they meditate an
attack upon some
unguarded, unsuspecting quarter, and already in idea
glut their eyes,
with the smoke of burning Towns and Villages, and are
soothed by the
sounds of deep distress. Forbid it Guardian of
America!--and
rather let the reason be their fear that we should know
the state of their
shattered Navy and declining affairs--However, Bill
is yet a Prisoner,
and still must feel, if not for himself, yet what a
mind like his will
ever feel for others. In a letter I received from
him about three
weeks since he mentioned that having a letter to
Mr. George Deblois,
he sent it, accompanied with one he wrote
requesting his
influence towards effecting his return the next
Flag,--that
Mr. Deblois being indisposed, his cousin
Captain William
Deblois, taken by
Monro last year, came on board to see him, with a
present from Mr.
Deblois of some Tea, Sugar, Wine, Rum, etc, and the
offer of any other
Civilities that lay in the power of either:--This
was beneficence and
true Urbanity,--that he was not destitute of Cash,
that best friend in
Adversity, except some other best friends,--that
as long as he had
health, he should, he had like to have said, be
happy. In a word he bears up with his wonted fortitude
and good
spirits, as we say,
nor discovers the least repining at his fate. But
you and I who sleep
on beds of down and inhale the untainted,
cherishing air,
surrounded by most endeared connexions, know that his
cannot be the most
delectable of situations: therefor with impatience
we look for his
happy return to the Circle of his Friends.
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 of
his situation
having been considerably exaggerated: However we ought
to be thankful we
were not deceived by a too favorable account, and so
left him to the
care of strangers, when he might most need the
soothing aid of
close relatives. He is very weak yet, and as a second
relapse might
endanger his reduced, tottering system, think it
advisable not to
set off for home with him till the wind is
favorable. He is
impatient, for the moment of its shifting, as he is
anxious to see you
all.
The boat is just
going, Adieu, yr aff son
Solomon Drowne
We have already
quoted from the Recollections of Jeremiah Johnson who
lived on the banks
of Wallabout Bay during the Revolution. He further
says: "The
prisoners confined in the Jersey had secretly obtained a
crow-bar which was
kept concealed in the berth of some confidential
officer among the
prisoners. The bar was used to break off
the
_port_
gratings. This was done, in windy
nights, when good
swimmers were ready
to leave the ship for the land. In this
way a
number escaped.
"Captain
Doughty, a friend of the writer, had charge of the bar when
he was a prisoner
on board of the Jersey, and effected his escape by
its means. When he left the ship he gave the bar to a
confidant to be
used for the relief
of others. Very few who left the ship were
retaken. They knew
where to find friends to conceal them, and to help
them beyond
pursuit.
"A singularly
daring and successful escape was effected from the
Jersey about 4
o'clock one afternoon in the beginning of
Dec. 1780. The best
boat of the ship had returned from New York
between 3 & 4
o'clock, and was left fast at the gangway, with the oars
on board. The
afternoon was stormy, the wind blew from the north-east,
and the tide ran
flood. A watchword was given, and a number of
prisoners placed
themselves carelessly between the ship's waist and
the sentinel. At
this juncture four Eastern Captains got on board the
boat, which was
cast off by their friends. The boat passed close under
the bows of the
ship, and was a considerable distance from her before
the sentinel in the
fo'castle gave the alarm, and fired at her. The
second boat was
manned for a chase; she pursued in vain; one man from
her bow fired
several shots at the boat, and a few guns were fired at
her from the
Bushwick shore; but all to no effect,--and the boat
passed Hell-gate in
the evening, and arrived safe in Connecticut next
morning.
"A spring of
the writer was a favorite watering-place for the British
shipping. The
water-boat of the Jersey watered from this spring daily
when it could be
done; four prisoners were generally brought on shore
to fill the casks,
attended by a guard. The prisoners were frequently
permitted to come
to the (Johnstons') house to get milk and food; and
often brought
letters privately from the prisoners. From these the
sufferings on board
were revealed.
"Supplies of
vegetables were frequently collected by Mr. Remsen (the
benevolent owner of
the mill,) for the prisoners; and small sums of
money were sent on
board by the writer's father to his friends by
means of these
watering parties."
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 ended
tragically. They were always undertaken in the night,
after wrenching
or filing the bar
off the port-holes. Having been on board several
weeks, and goaded
to death in various ways, four of us concluded to
run the
hazard. We set to work and got the bars
off, and waited
impatiently for a
dark night. We lay in front of Mr.
Remsen's door,
inside of the pier
head and not more that 20 yards distant. There were
several guard
sloops, one on our bow, and the other off our quarter a
short distance from
us. The dark night came, the first two were
lowered quietly
into the water; and the third made some rumbling. I
was the fourth that
descended, but had not struck off from the vessel
before the guards were
alarmed, and fired upon us. The alarm became
general, and I was
immediately hauled on board (by the other
prisoners).
"They manned
their boats, and with their lights and implements of
death were quick in
pursuit of the unfortunates, cursing and swearing,
and bellowing and
firing. It was awful to witness this deed of blood.
It lasted about an
hour,--all on board trembling for our
shipmates. These
desperadoes returned to their different vessels
rejoicing that they
had killed three damned rebels.
"About three
years after this I saw a gentleman in John St., near
Nassau, who
accosted me thus: 'Manley, how do you do?' I could not
recollect him. 'Is
it possible you don't know me? Recollect the Old
Jersey?' And he
opened his vest and bared his breast. I
immediately
said to him--'You
are James McClain.' 'I am,' said he. We
both
stepped into
Mariner's public house, at the corner, and he related his
marvellous escape
to me.
"'They pursued
me:--I frequently dived to avoid them, and when I came
up they fired on
me. I caught my breath, and immediately dived again,
and held my breath
till I crawled along the mud. They no doubt thought
they killed me. I
however, with much exertion, though weak and
wounded, made out
to reach the shore, and got into a barn, not far
from the ship, a
little north of Mr. Remsen's house. The
farmer, the
next morning, came
into his barn,--saw me lying on the floor, and ran
out in a fright. I
begged him to come to me, and he did, I gave an
account of myself,
where I was from, how I was pursued, with several
others. He saw my
wounds, took pity on me; sent for his wife, and
bound up my wounds,
and kept me in the barn until night-fall,--took me
into his house,
nursed me secretly, and then furnished me with
clothing, etc., and
when I was restored, he took me with him, into his
market-boat to this
city, and went with me to the west part of the
city, provided me
with a passage over to Bergen, and I landed
somewhere in
Communipaw. Some friends helped me across Newark Bay, and
then I worked my
way, until I reached Baltimore, to the great joy of
all my
friends." [Footnote:
"Recollections of Captain Manley".]
Just what
proportion of captives died on board of the Jersey it is now
impossible to
determine. No doubt there were many escapes of which it
is impossible to
obtain the particulars. The winter of 1779-80 was
excessively cold,
and the Wallabout Bay was frozen over. One night a
number of prisoners
took advantage of this to make their escape by
lowering themselves
from a port hole on to the ice. It is recorded
that the cold was
so excessive that one man was frozen to death, that
the British pursued
the party and brought a few of them back, but that
a number succeeded
in making their escape to New Jersey.
Who these
men were we have
been unable to discover. Tradition also
states that
while Wallabout Bay
was thus frozen over the Long Island market women
skated across it,
with supplies of vegetables in large hampers
attached to their
backs, and that some of them came near enough to
throw some of their
supplies to the half-famished prisoners on board
the Jersey.
It would appear
that these poor sufferers had warm friends in the
farmers who lived
on the shores of the Wallabout. Of these
Mr. A. Remsen, who
owned a mill at the mouth of a creek which empties
into the Bay, was
one of the most benevolent, and it was his daughter
who is said to have
kept a list of the number of bodies that were
interred in the
sand in the neighborhood of the mill and house. In
1780 Mr Remsen hid
an escaped prisoner, Major H. Wyckoff, for several
days in one of his
upper rooms, while at the same time the young
lieutenant of the
guard of the Jersey was quartered in the
house. Remsen also
lent Captain Wyckoff as much money as he needed,
and finally, one
dark night, safely conveyed him in a sleigh to Cow
Neck. From thence
he crossed to Poughkeepsie.
Although little
mention is made by those prisoners who have left
accounts of their
experiences while on board the Jersey, of any aid
received by them
from the American government the following passage
from a Connecticut
paper would seem to indicate that such aid was
tendered them at
least for a time. It is possible that
Congress sent
some provisions to
the prison-ships for her imprisoned soldiers, or
marines, but made
no provision for the crews of privateers.
"New London.
September 1st. 1779. D. Stanton testifies that he was
taken June 5th, and
put in the Jersey prison ship. An allowance from
Congress was sent
on board. About three or four weeks past we were
removed on board
the Good Hope, where we found many sick. There is now
a hospital ship
provided, to which they are removed and good attention
paid."
The next extract
that we will quote probably refers to the escape of
prisoners on the
ice referred to above.
"New London.
Conn. Feb. 16th. 1780. Fifteen prisoners arrived here who
three weeks ago
escaped from the prison-ship in the East River. A
number of others
escaped about the same time from the same ship, some
of whom being
frost-bitten and unable to endure the cold, were taken
up and carried
back, one frozen to death before he reached the shore."
"_Rivington's
Gazette_, Dec. 19th 1780. George Batterman, who had
been a prisoner on
board the prison ship at New York, deposes that he
had had eight
ounces of condemned bread per day; and eight ounces of
meat. He was
afterwards put on board the Jersey, where were, as was
supposed, 1,100
prisoners; recruiting officers came on board and
finding that the
American officers persuaded the men not to enlist,
removed them, as he
was told, to the Provost. The prisoners
were
tempted to enlist
to free themselves from confinement, hopeless of
exchange. * * * The prisoners had a pint of water per
day:--the sick
were not sent to
the hospitals until they were so weak and ill that
they often expired
before they got out of the Jersey. The commanding
officer said his
orders were that if the ship took fire we should all
be turned below, and
left to perish in the flames. By accident the
ship took fire in
the steward's room, when the Hessian guards were
ordered to drive
the prisoners below, and fire among them if they
resisted or got in
the water."
Talbot in his
Memoirs stated that: "When the weather became cool and
dry in the fall and
the nights frosty the number of deaths on board
the Jersey was
_reduced_ to an average of ten per day! which was
_small_ compared
with the mortality for three months before. The
human bones and
skulls yet bleaching on the shore of Long Island, and
exposed by the
falling down of the high bank, on which the prisoners
were buried, is a
shocking sight." (Talbot, page 106.)
In May, 1808, one
William Burke of New York testified that "He was a
prisoner in the
Jersey 14 months, has known many American prisoners
put to death by the
bayonet. It was the custom for but one prisoner at
a time to go on
deck. One night while many prisoners were assembled at
the grate, at the
hatchway to obtain fresh air, and waiting their turn
to go on deck, a
sentinel thrust his bayonet down among them, and 25
next morning were
found to be dead. This was the case several
mornings, when
sometimes six, and sometimes eight or ten were found
dead by wounds thus
received."
A Connecticut
paper, some time in May, 1781, stated that. "Eleven
hundred French and
American prisoners died in New York last winter."
A paper published
in Philadelphia, on the 20th of February, 1782,
says: "Many of
our unfortunate prisoners on board the prison ships in
the East River have
perished during the late extreme weather, for want
of fuel and other
necessaries."
"New London.
May 3rd. 1782. One thousand of our seamen remain in
prison ships in New
York, a great part in close confinement for six
months past, and in
a most deplorable condition. Five hundred have
died during the
past five or six months, three hundred are sick; many
seeing no prospect
of release are entering the British service to
elude the contagion
with which the prison ships are fraught."
Joel Barlow in his
Columbiad says that Mr. Elias Boudinot told him
that in the Jersey
1,100 prisoners died in eighteen months, almost the
whole of them from
the barbarous treatment of being stifled in a
crowded hold with
infected air; and poisoned with unwholesome food,
and Mr Barlow adds
that the cruelties exercised by the British armies
on American
prisoners during the first years of the war were
unexampled among
civilized nations.
CONCLUSION
Such of the
prisoners as escaped after months of suffering with health
sufficient for
future usefulness in the field often re-enlisted,
burning for
revenge.
Mr. Scharf, in his
"History of Western Maryland," speaks of Colonel
William Kunkel, who
had served in Prussia, and emigrated to America
about the year
1732. He first settled in Lancaster, Pa., but
afterwards moved to
Western Maryland. He had six sons in the
Revolution. One of
these sons entered the American army at the age of
eighteen. Taken
prisoner he was sent on board the Jersey, where his
sufferings were
terrible. On his return home after his exchange he
vowed to his father
that he would return to the army and fight until
the last redcoat
was driven out of the country. He did return, and
from that time,
says Mr Scharf, his family never heard from him again.
Mr. Crimmins in his
"Irish-American Historical Miscellany," says: "An
especially
affecting incident is told regarding one prisoner who died
on the Jersey. Two young men, brothers, belonging to a rifle
corps
were made
prisoners, and sent on board the ship. The elder took the
fever, and in a few
days became delirious. One night as his end was
fast approaching,
he became calm and sensible, and lamenting his hard
fate, and the
absence of his mother, begged for a little water. His
brother with tears,
entreated the guard to give him some, but in
vain. The sick
youth was soon in his last struggles, when his brother
offered the guard a
guinea for an inch of candle, only that he might
see him die. Even
this was denied."
The young rifleman
died in the dark.
"Now,"
said his brother, drying his tears, "if it please God that I
ever regain my
liberty, I'll be a most bitter enemy!"
He was exchanged,
rejoined the army, and when the war ended he is said
to have had eight
large and one hundred and twenty-seven small notches
on his rifle stock.
The inference is that he made a notch every time
he killed or
wounded a British soldier, a large notch for an officer,
and a small one for
a private.
Mr. Lecky, the
English historian, thus speaks of American prisoners:
"The American
prisoners who had been confined in New York after the
battle of Long
Island were so emaciated and broken down by scandalous
neglect or ill
usage that Washington refused to receive them in
exchange for an
equal number of healthy British and Hessian troops. *
* * It is but
justice to the Americans to add that their conduct
during the war
appears to have been almost uniformly humane. No
charges of neglect
of prisoners, like those which were brought,
apparently with too
good reason, against the English, were
substantiated
against them. The conduct of Washington was marked by a
careful and steady
humanity, and Franklin, also, appears to have done
much to mitigate
the war."
Our task is now
concluded. We have concerned ourselves with the
prisoners
themselves, not much with the history of the negotiations
carried on to
effect exchange, but have left this part of the subject
to some abler hand.
Only a very small part of the story has been told
in this volume, and
there is much room for future investigations. It
is highly probable
that if a systematic search is made many
unpublished
accounts may be discovered, and a great deal of light shed
upon the horrors of
the British prisons. If we have awakened interest
in the sad fate of
so many of our brave countrymen, and aroused some
readers to a
feeling of compassion for their misfortunes, and
admiration for
their heroism, our task has not been in vain.
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 War
Department. There
is nothing to indicate what became of any of these
prisoners, whether
they died, escaped, or were exchanged. The list
seems to have been
carelessly kept, and is full of obvious mistakes in
spelling the names.
Yet it shall be given just as it is, except that
the names are arranged
differently, for easier reference. This list of
prisoners is the
only one that could be found in the British War
Department. What
became of the lists of prisoners on the many other
prison ships, and
prisons, used by the English in America, we do not
know.
Garret Aarons
John Aarons (2)
Alexander Abbett
John Abbett
James Abben
John Abbott
Daniel Abbott
Abel Abel
George Abel
Jacob Aberry
Jabez Abett
Philip Abing
Thomas Abington
Christopher Abois
William Aboms
Daniel Abrams
Don Meegl (Miguel)
Abusure
Gansio Acito
Abel Adams
Amos Adams
Benjamin Adams
David Adams
Isaac Adams
John Adams (4)
Lawrence Adams
Moses Adams
Nathaniel Adams
Pisco Adams
Richard Adams
Stephen Adams
Thomas Adams
Warren Adams
Amos Addams
Thomas Addett
Benjamin Addison
David Addon
John Adlott
Robert Admistad
Noah Administer
Wm Adamson (2)
John Adobon
James Adovie
Sebastian de Aedora
Jean Aenbie
Michael Aessinis
Frances Affille
Joseph Antonio
Aguirra
Thomas Aguynoble
John Aires
Robert Aitken
Thomas Aiz
Manuel Ajote
Jacob Akins
Joseph Aker (2)
Richard Akerson
Charles Albert
Piere Albert
Robert Albion
Joachin Alconan
Joseph de Alcorta
Juan Ignacid
Alcorta
Pedro Aldaronda
Humphrey Alden
Fred Aldkin
George Aldridge
Jacob Alehipike
Jean Aleslure
Archibald Alexander
John Alexander (2)
Lehle Alexander
William Alexander
Thomas Alger
Christopher Aliet
Joseph Aliev
George Alignott
Joseph Allah
Gideon Allan
Hugh Allan
Francis Allegree
Baeknel Allen
Bancke Allen
Benjamin Allen
Bucknell Allen
Ebeneser Allen
George Allen
Gideon Allen
Isaac Allen
John Allen (5)
Josiah Allen
Murgo Allen
Richard Allen (2)
Samuel Allen (7)
Squire Allen
Thomas Allen (3)
William Allen (4)
Jean Allin
Caleb Allis
Bradby Allison
Bradey Allison
James Allison
Frances Alment
Arrohan Almon
Aceth Almond
William Alpin
Jacob Alsfrugh
Jacob Alsough
Jacob Alstright
Jacob Alsworth
Thomas Alvarey
Miguel Alveras
Don Ambrose Alverd
Joseph Alvey
James Alwhite
George Alwood
James Alwood
Charles Amey
Anthony Amingo
Manuel Amizarma
Nathaniel Anabel
Austin Anaga
Jean Ancette
Charles Anderson
Joseph Anderson
Robert Anderson
William Anderson
(3)
George Andre
Benjamin Andrews
Charles Andrews
Dollar Andrews
Ebeneser Andrews
Francis Andrews
Frederick Andrews
Jerediah Andrews
John Andrews (4)
Jonathan Andrews
Pascal Andrews
Philany Andrews
Thomas Andrews
William Andrews
Guillion Andrie
Pashal Andrie
Dominique Angola
Andre D. C.
Annapolen
Joseph Anrandes
John Anson
William Anster
David Anthony
Davis Anthony
Samuel Anthony
Pierre Antien
Jacques Antiqua
Jean Anton
Francis Antonf
John Antonio
Daniel Appell
Daniel Apple
Thomas Appleby
Samuel Appleton
Joseph Aquirse
---- Arbay
Abraham Archer
James Archer
John Archer
Stephen Archer
Thomas Arcos
Richard Ariel
Asencid Arismane
Ezekiel Arme
Jean Armised
James Armitage
Elijah Armsby
Christian Armstrong
William Armstrong
Samuel Arnibald
Amos Arnold
Ash Arnold
Samuel Arnold
Charles Arnolds
Samuel Arnolds
Thomas Arnold
Andres Arral
Manuel de Artol
Don Pedro Asevasuo
Hosea Asevalado
James Ash
Henry Ash
John Ashbey
John Ashburn
Peter Ashburn
John Ashby
Warren Ashby
John Ashley
Andrew Askill
Francis Aspuro
John Athan
George Atkins
John Atkins
Silas Atkins
John Atkinson
Robert Atkinson
William Atkinson
James Atlin
Duke Attera
Jean Pierre Atton
John Atwood
Henry Auchinlaup
Joseph Audit
Anthony Aiguillia
Igarz Baboo
Augusion
Peter Augusta
Thomas Augustine
Laurie Aujit
George Austin
Job Avery
Benjamin Avmey
Francis Ayres
Don Pedro Azoala
B
Franklin Babcock
William Babcock
James Babel
Jeremiah Babell
Jean Babier
Abel Baboard
Vascilla Babtreause
Francis Bachelier
Jonathan Bachelor
Antonio Backalong
Francis Backay
Benjamin Bacon
Esau Bacon
Judah Bacon
Stephen Badante
Laurence Badeno
William Badick
Jonathan Baddock
John Baggar
Barnett Bagges
Adam Bagley
Joseph Bahamony
John Bailey (2)
William Bailey
Moses Baird
Joseph Baisolus
William Baison
William Batho
Christopher Baker
Ebenezer Baker
John Baker (2)
Joseph Baker
Judah Baker
Lemuel Baker
Nathaniel Baker
Pamberton Baker
Pemberton Baker
Pembleton Baker
Thomas Baker (3)
David Baldwin
James Baldwin
John Baldwin
Nathaniel Baldwin
Ralph Baldwin
Thomas Ball
Benjamin Ballard
John Ballast
Joseph Balumatigua
Ralf Bamford
Jacob Bamper
Peter Banaby
James Bandel
Augustine Bandine
Pierre Bandine
John Banister (2)
Matthew Bank
James Banker
John Banks
Matthew Banks
Jean Rio Bapbsta
Jean Baptista
Gale Baptist
Jean Baptist
John Barber
Gilbert Barber
John Barden
William Barenoft
Walter Bargeman
Joseph Bargeron
Charles Bargo
Mabas Bark
Benjamin Barker
Edward Barker
Jacom Barker
John Barker
Peter Barker
Thomas Barker
Benjamin Barkly
Joseph Barkump
John Barley
James Barman
Ethiem Barnell
Charles Barnes
Henry Barnes
Wooding Barnes
John Barnett
Henry Barney
Mons Barney
Samuel Barney
William Barnhouse
James Barracks
Pierre Barratt
Abner Barre
Dennis Barrett
Enoch Barrett
Francis Barrett
Samuel Barrett
William Barrett
Robert Barrol
Bernard Barron
Enoch Barrott
Francis Barsidge
William Bartlet
Joseph Bartley
Charles
Barthalemerd
Charles Bartholemew
Joseph Bartholomew
---- Bartholomew
Benjamin Bartholoyd
Petrus Bartlemie
Michael Bartol
Thomas Barton
John Basker
William Bason
Donnor Bass
Juvery Bastin
Michael Bastin
Louis Baston
Asa Batcheler
Benjamin Bate
Benjamin Bates
Henry Bates
James Bates
William Batt
John Battersley
John Battesker
Adah Batterman
Adam Batterman
George Batterman
(2)
Joseph Batterman
---- Baumos
Thomas Bausto
Benjamin Bavedon
George Baxter
Malachi Baxter
Richard Bayan
Joseph Bayde
Thomas Bayess
John Bayley
Joseph Baynes
Jean Baxula
John Bazee
Daniel Beal
Samuel Beal
Joseph Beane
James Beankey
James Bearbank
Jesse Bearbank
Morgan Beard
Moses Beard
Daniel Beatty
Benjamin Beasel
Joseph Beaufort
Perri Beaumont
Andrew Beck
Thomas Beck
William Beckett
Jonathan Beckwith
Francis Bedell
Frederick Bedford
Joseph Bedford
Thomas Bedford
Benjamin Beebe
Elias Beebe
Joshua Beebe
Benjamin Beeford
James Beekman
Walter Beekwith
Lewis Begand
Joseph Begley
Joseph Belcher
John Belding
Pierre Belgard
Aaron Bell
Charles Bell
Robert Bell
Uriah Bell
Alexander Bellard
Joseph Belter
Julian Belugh
Jean Bengier
Joseph Benloyde
John Benn
George Bennett
John Bennett
Joseph Bennett
Peter Bennett
Pierre Bennett
Anthony Benson
Stizer Benson
David Benton
John Benton
Peter Bentler
Nathaniel Bentley
(2)
Peter Bentley
William Bentley
Joshua M Berason
Joseoh Berean
Julian Berger
Lewis Bernall
Francis Bernardus
Francis Bercoute
Jean Juquacid Berra
Abner Berry
Alexander Berry
Benjamin Berry
Daniel Berry
Dennis Berry
Edward Berry
John Berry
Peter Berry (2)
Philip Berry
Simon Berry
William Berry (3)
Philip Berrycruise
William Berryman
Jean Bertine
Martin Bertrand
John Bertram
Andrew Besin
Jean Beshire
John Beszick
James Bett
Samuel Bevan
Jean Bevin
Benjamin Beverley
Robert Bibbistone
John Bice
Andrew Bick
John Bickety
Charles Bierd
David Bierd
Joshua Bievey
Benjamin Bigelow
Oliver Bigelow
Thomas Biggs
Jean Bilarie
Charles Bill (2)
Garden Bill
John Bill (2)
Pierre Bill
John Billard
James Biller
Samuel Billing
Benjamin Billings
Bradford Billings
Ezekiel Billings
Robert Billings
David Billows
Frarey Binnen
Cirretto Biola
Pierre Biran
Alexander Birch
Nathaniel Birch
Joseph Bird
Weldon Bird
Thomas Birket
Samuel Birmingham
Ezekiel Bishop
Israel Bishop
John Bishop (2)
John Bissell
Jack Bissick
Osee Bissole
Pierre Bitgayse
Peter Bitton
Daniel Black
James Black (3)
John Black
Joseph Black
Robert N Black
Samuel Black (2)
Timothy Black
William Black
John Blackburn
Alexander Blackhunt
William Blackpond
V C Blaine
John Blair
Charles Blake
Increase Blake
James Blake
Samuel Blake
Valentine Blake
David Blanch
Robert Blanch
Joseph Blancher
William Blanchet
John Blanney
Gideon Blambo
Jesse Blacque
Joseph Blateley
Lubal Blaynald
Asa Blayner
Edward Blevin
Benjamin Blimbey
William Blimbey
Joseph Blinde
William Bliss
Samuel Blissread
Juan Blodgett
Seth Blodgett
John Blond
Lewis Blone
Louis Blong
Peter Bloome (2)
Samuel Bloomfield
Jomes Blossom
James Blowen
John Bloxand
William Bluard
George Blumbarg
George Blunt (4)
William Blythe
Matthew Boar
John Bobier
John Bobgier
Joseph Bobham
Jonathan Bocross
Lewis Bodin
Peter Bodwayne
John Boelourne
Christopher Boen
Purdon Boen
Roper Bogat
James Boggart
Ralph Bogle
Nicholas Boiad
Pierre Boilon
William Boine
Jacques Bollier
William Bolt
William Bolts
Bartholomew
Bonavist
Henry Bone
Anthony Bonea
Jeremiah Boneafoy
James Boney
Thomas Bong
Barnabus Bonus
James Bools
William Books
John Booth
Joseph Borda
Charles Borden
John Borman
James Borrall
Joseph Bortushes
Daniel Borus (2)
Joseph Bosey
Pierre Bosiere
Jacques Bosse
Ebenezer Boswell
Gustavus Boswell
Lewis Bothal
Charles Bottis
James Bottom
Walter Bottom
Augustin Boudery
Augustus Boudery
Anthony Bouea
Theophilus Boulding
Pierre Bounet
Lewis Bourge
John Boursbo
Lawrence Bourshe
Jean Boutilla
Lewis Bouton
Edward Boven
Elijah Bowden
Arden Bowen
Elijah Bowen
Ezekiel Bowen
Paldon Bowen
Thomas Bowen (3)
William Bowen
Willis Bowen
James Bowers
Thomas Bowers
Fulbur Bowes
James Bowles
Daniel Bowman
Benjamin Bowman
Elijah Bowman (2)
John Bowman
Michael Bowner
John Bowrie
P I Bowree
Jean Bowseas
John Boyau
Thomas Boyd
John Boyde
David Boyeau
Francis Boyer
Joseph Boyne
Thomas Bradbridge
Samuel Bradbury
William Braden
James Brader
Samuel Bradfield
William Bradford
Abijah Bradley
Alijah Bradley
Daniel Bradley
James Bradley
Abraham Bradley
John Brady
James Bradyon
Ebenezer Bragg (2)
William Bragley
Nathaniel Braily
Zacheus Brainard
Joseph Bramer
Zachary Bramer
William Bramber
James Branart
Aholibah Branch
William Brand
Ralf Brandford
Charles Branel
William Bransdale
David Branson
Peter Braswan
Peter Brays (2)
Burden Brayton
Peter Brayton
John Bredford
James Brehard
Elijah Bremward
Pierre Brene
George Brent
Pierre Bretton
John Brewer
Samuel Brewer
Joseph Brewett
James Brewster (2)
Seabury Brewster
John Brice
Thomas Bridges
Glond Briges
Cabot Briggs
Alexander Bright
Henry Brim
Peter Brinkley
Ephraim Brion
Louis Brire
Thomas Brisk
Simon Bristo
Jalaher C Briton
Peter Britton
Thomas Britton
Ephraim Broad (3)
Ossia Broadley
Joseph Broaker
Joshua Brocton
Philip Broderick
William Broderick
(2)
Joseph Broge
William Brooker
Charles Brooks (2)
Henry Brooks
Paul Brooks
Samuel Brooks (2)
Thomas Brooks
Benjamin Brown
Christopher Brown
David Brown (2)
Francis Brown
Gustavus Brown (3)
Hugh Brown (2)
Jacob Brown
James Brown (3)
Jonathan Brown
John Brown (12)
Joseph Brown (3)
Michael Brown
Nathaniel Brown
Patrick Brown
Peter Brown
Samuel Brown (3)
William Brown (5)
W. Brown
William Boogs Brown
Willis Brown
Essick Brownhill
Wanton Brownhill
Charles Brownwell
Gardner Brownwell
Pierre Brows
James Bruding
Lewis Brun
Daniel Bruton
Edward Bryan
John Bryan
Matthew Bryan
Nathaniel Bryan
William Bryan
Benjamin Bryand
Ephraim Bryand
James Bryant
William Bryant
Nicholas Bryard
Francis Bryean
Richard Bryen
Berr Bryon
Thomas Bryon
Simon Buas
Thomas Buchan
Francis Buchanan
Elias Buck
Elisha Buck
John Buck
Joseph Bucklein
Philip Buckler
Cornelius Buckley
Daniel Buckley (2)
Francis Buckley
Jacob Buckley
John Buckley (3)
Daniel Bucklin (2)
Samuel Buckwith
David Buckworth
Benjamin Bud
Nicholas Budd
Jonathan Buddington
Oliver Buddington
Waller Buddington
William Budgid
John Budica
Joshua Buffins
Lawrence Buffoot
John Bugger
Silas Bugg
John Buldings
Jonathan Bulgedo
Benjamin Bullock
Thomas Bullock
Benjamin Bumbley
Lewis Bunce
Norman Bunce
Thomas Bunch
Antonio Bund
Obadiah Bunke
Jonathan Bunker
Timothy Bunker
William Bunker
Richard Bunson (2)
Murdock Buntine
Frederick Bunwell
Thomas Burch
Michael Burd
Jeremiah Burden
Joseph Burden
William Burden
Jason Burdis
Daniel Burdit
Bleck Burdock
Robert Burdock
Vincent Burdock
Henry Burgess
Theophilus Burgess
Barnard Burgh
Prosper Burgo
Jean Burham
James Burke
Thomas Burke
William Burke
Michael Burkman
William Burn
Frederick Burnett
James Burney
James Burnham
Daniel Burnhill
Archibald Burns
Edward Burns (2)
Henry Burns
John Burns
Thomas Burns
Stephen Burr
Pierre Burra
Francis Burrage
John Burrell
Lewis Burrell
Isaac Burrester
Jonathan Burries
Nathaniel Burris
John Burroughs
Edward Burrow
James Burton
John Burton
Jessee Byanslow
Bartholomew Byi
John Bylight
C
Abel Cable
Louis Cadat
Louis Pierre Cadate
Michael Cadate
John Caddington
Nathan Caddock
Jean Cado
John Cahoon
Jonathan Cahoone
Thomas Caile
David Cain (2)
Thomas Cain
Samuel Caird
Joseph Caivins
Pierre Cajole
Thomas Calbourne
James Calder
Caplin Calfiere
Nathaniel Calhoun
Charles Call
Barnaby Callagham
Daniel Callaghan
William Callehan
James Callingham
Andrew Caiman
Francis Calon
Parpi Calve
Nicholas Calwell
Joseph Cambridge
Edward Cameron
Simon Came
Oseas Camp
Alexander Campbell
Frederick Campbell
James Campbell
Jesse Campbell
John Campbell (2)
Joseph Campbell
Philip Campbell (2)
Robert Campbell
Thomas Campbell (2)
James Canady
Joseph Canana
Satarus Candie
Jacob Canes
Richard Caney
Jacob Canmer
William Cannady
William Canner
Charles Cannon
Francis Cannon
John Cannon
Joseph Cannon
Samuel Cannon
Jean Canute
Francis Cape
Timothy Cape
Daniel Capnell
William Caransame
Robert Carbury
Juan Fernin
Cardends
Joseph Carea
Isaac Carelton
Joseph Carender
Ezekiel Carew
Daniel Carey
John Carey (4)
Joshua Carey
Richard Carey
William Cargall
Joseph Cariviot
Edward Garland
Antonio Carles
William Carles
Jean Carlton
Thomas Carlton
John Carlisle
Justan Carlsrun
Benjamin Carman
Benjamin Carmell
William Carmenell
Edward Carmody
Anthony Carney
Hugh Carney
David Carns
Jean Carolin
Pierre Carowan
John Carpenter
Miles Carpenter
Richards Carpenter
Edward Carr
Isaac Carr
John Carr (2)
Philip Carr
William Carr
Robert Carrall
---- Carret
Thomas Carrington
Jean Carrllo
James Carroll
John Carroll
Michael Carroll
Perance Carroll
William Carrollton
John Carrow
Peter Carroway
Avil Carson
Batterson Carson
Israel Carson
James Carson
Robert Carson (2)
Samuel Carson
William Carson
Levi Carter
Thomas Carter
William Carter (2)
John Carvell
Joseph Casan
Joseph Casanova
John Case
Thomas Case
Thomas Casewell
Edward Casey
John Casey
William Casey
Stephen Cash
Jacob Cashier
Jean Cashwell
Gosper Cassian
Samuel Casson
John Casp
Anthony Casper
Michael Cassey
John Castel
Joseph Castile
Thomas Castle (2)
John Caswell (3)
Baptist Cavalier
Francis Cavalier
George Cavalier
James Cavalier
Thomas Cavalier
Joseph Augustus
Cavell
Gasnito Cavensa
Thomas Caveral
Pierre Cawan
John Cawrier
John Cawrse
Edward Cayman
Anthony Cayner
Oliver Cayaran
John Cerbantin
---- Chabbott
Perrie Chalier
Samuel Chalkeley
Hurbin Challigne
John Challoner
William Challoner
Pierre Chalore
Benjamin
Chamberlain
Bird Chamberlain
Charles Chamberland
Nancy Chambers
Dore Champion
Lines Champion
Thomas Champion
Clerk Champlin
Isaac Champlin
James Chapin
Joseph Chapley
Joseph Chaplin
Josiah Chaplin
Lodowick Chaplin
Daniel Chapman
James Chapman
Jeremiah Chapman
John Chapman (2)
Lion Chapman
Samuel Chapman
Charles Chappel
Frederick Chappell
John Chappell
John Charbein
Ichabod Chard
William Charfill
James Charles
John Charles
Jean Charoner
Aaron Chase
Augustus Chase (2)
Earl Chase (2)
George Chase (2)
Lonie Chase
Samuel Chase
Jean Chatfield
Jovis Chaurine
John Cheavelin
Christopher Chenaur
Louis Chenet
Andrew Cheesebrook
David Cheesebrook
James Cheesebrook
Pierre Cheesebrook
Samuel Cheesebrook
Britton Cheeseman
James Cheevers
Christopher Chenaur
Benjamin Chencey
Louis Chenet
John Cherry
William Cherry
John Chese
Hiram Chester
Benjamin Chevalier
John Chevalier
Jean Gea Chevalier
Julian Chevalier
Edward Cheveland
Lasar Chien
Silas Childs
Cadet Chiller
Thomas Chilling
Abel Chimney
David Chinks
Leshers Chipley
William Christan
Henry Christian
John Christian (2)
James Christie
Benjamin
Chittington
Bartholomew Chivers
Benjamin Chopman
Matthew Chubb
David Chueehook
Benjamin Church (2)
Israel Church
Thomas Church
John Churchill
Pierre Clabe
Edward Clamron
Benjamin Clannan
Edward Clanwell
Supply Clap (2)
Supply Twing Clap
Edward Claring
Charles Clark
Church Clark
James Clark (2)
John Clark
Jubal Clark
William Clark (2)
Emanuel Clarke
Daniel Clarke
Jacob Clarke
James Clarke
Joshua Clarke
Lewis Clarke
Nicholas Clarke
Noel Clarke
Stephen Clarke
Theodore Clarke
Timothy Clarke
William Clarke (2)
Samuel Clarkson
Samuel Claypole
Edward Clayton
William Clayton
David Cleaveland
Michel Clemence
Clement Clements
Alexander Clerk
Gambaton Clerk
Isaac Clerk
Jacob Clerk
Jonathan Clerk
John Clerk (3)
Lardner Clerk
Nathaniel Clerk
Peleg Clerk
Thomas Clerk (3)
Tully Clerk
William Clerk
Thomas Clever
Jean Clineseau
David Clinton
Philip Clire
John Cloud
John Coarsin
Christian Cobb
Christopher Cobb
Francis Cobb
John Cobb
Jonathan Cobb
Nathaniel Cobb
Richard Cobb
Thomas Cobb
Christopher Cobbs
Raymond Cobbs
Timothy Cobley
Moses Cobnan
Eliphas Coburn
James Cochran
John Cochran (2)
Richard Cochran
John Cocker
John Cocklin
Equatius Code
Lewis Codean
Christopher Codman
James Codner
Abel Coffin
Edward Coffin
Elias Coffin
Elisha Coffin (2)
Obadiah Coffin (2)
Richard Coffin
Simon Coffin (2)
Zechariah Coffin
William Cogeshall
John Coggeshall
Robert Coghill
John Cohlen
David Coisten
Guilliam Cokill
James Colbert
Abial Cole
Benjamin Cole (2)
John Cole (2)
Joshua Cole
Rilhard Cole
Thomas Cole (2)
Waller Cole
David Coleman
James Coleman
Nicholas Coleman
Stephen Coleman
James Colford
Miles Colhoon
Lewis Colinett
Alexander Colley
Basquito Colley
Septor en Collie
Candal Collier
John Collings
Joseph Collingwood
Doan Collins
James Collins (2)
John Collins (3)
Joseph Collins
Powell Collins
William Collins
Daniel Collohan
Thomas Collough
Joseph Colloy
Elisha Colman
John Colney
Frederick Colson
James Colting
Julian Columb
Julian Colver
David Colvich
Nathaniel Colwell
Nathaniel Combick
Joseph Combs
Matthew Combs
Joseph Comby
Gilbert Comick
Patrick Condon
Stafford Condon
Philip Cong
Strantly Congdon
Muller Congle
John Connell
John Connelly
George Conner
James Conner
John Conner (2)
Robert Conner
Patrick Connelly
Samuel Connelly
John Connor
William Connor
George Conrad
Frederick Contaney
William Convass
John Conway
Thomas Conway
Robert Conwell
Amos Cook
Anthony Cook
Benjamin Cook
Eashak Cook
Esbric Cook
Ezekiel Cook (2)
Frederick Cook
George Cook
James Cook (3)
John Cook (4)
Joseph Cook
Richard Cook
Samuel Cooke
Stephen Cooke
Abraham Cooper
Ezekiel Cooper
Matthew Cooper (2)
Mot Cooper
Nathaniel Cooper
(3)
Richard Cooper
Warren Cooper
William Cooper
Aaron Cooping
Joseph Copeland
Andrew Cord
Joseph Cornean
Peter Cornelius
John Cornell
Matthew Cornell
James Corner
Benjamin Corning
Robert Cornwell
William Cornwell
Bernard Corrigan
John Corrigan
John Corroll
Battson Corson
Pomeus Corson
Lewis Cortland
Robert Corwell
Joseph de Costa
Antonio Costo
Noel Cotis
Anghel Cotter
David Cotteral
David Cottrill
James Couch
John Couch
Thomas Coudon
John Coughin
Pierre Coulanson
Nathaniel Connan
Francis Connie
Perrie Coupra
Jean de Course
Leonard Courtney
Louis Couset
Joseph Cousins
Frances Cousnant
Jean Couster
John Coutt
Vizenteausean
Covazensa
John Coventry
John Coverley
Peter Covet
Zechariah Coward
James Cowbran
James Cowen
John Cowins
Edward Cownovan
Enoch Cox
Jacob Cox
John Cox
Joseph Cox (2)
Portsmouth Cox
William Cox
Thurmal Coxen
Asesen Craft
Joseph Craft
Matthias Craft (2)
James Craig
Thomas Craig
Henry Crandall
Oliver Crane
Philip Crane
Samuel Crane
William Cranston
Abel Crape (2)
Thomas Craton (2)
Joshua Cratterbrook
Alias Crawford
Benjamin Crawford
John Crawford (4)
Richard Crawford
Samuel Crawford
William Crawford
Basil Crawley
Cornelius Crawley
Isaac Crayton (2)
James Crayton
Amos Creasey
Richard Creech
Thomas Creepman
William Cresean
William Cresley
Henry Cressouson
Michael Crider
John Crim
Others Cringea
William Crispin (2)
George Cristin
Benjamin Crocker
James Crocker
John Crocker
Joshua Crocker (2)
John Croix
Oliver Cromell
Oliver Cromwell (4)
Richmond Cromwell
Robert Cromwell
Hugh Crookt
John Croppen
Bunsby Crorker
Peter Crosbury
Daniel Crosby (3)
William Crosley
Joseph Cross
Thomas Crough
Christian Crowdy
Matthew Crow
Bissell Crowell
Seth Crowell
William Crowell
George Crown
Michael Crowyar
William Crozier
Janeise Cubalod
Benjamin Cuffey
Philip Cuish
Thomas Culbarth
Daniel Culbert
William Cullen (2)
David Cullett
Willis Culpper
Levi Culver
Samuel Culvin
Josea Comnano
Cornelius Cumstock
Isaac Cuningham
James Cunican
Barnabas Cunningham
Cornelius
Cunningham
John Cunningham
Jacob Currel
Anthony Curry
Augustine Curry
Robert Curry
Daniel Curtis
Frederick Curtis
Joseph Curtis
Henry Curtis
Joseph Cushing
Robert Cushing
Eimnan Cushing
D
Guilliam Dabuican
Jean Dabuican
John Daccarmell
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Thoman Ecley --
Edbron
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---- Garner
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---- Goquie
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H
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Seren House
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Thomas Howe
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Phineas Hudson
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W W Humphries
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John Husband
Negro Huson
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Isaac Huss
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James Huston
Zechariah Hutchins
Esau Hutchinson
John Hutchison
Abraham Smith Hyde
Vincent Hyer
I
Joseph Ignacis
Ivede Sousis
Illiumbe
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Joseph Ingraham
Joshua Ingraham
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George Ismay
Gospar Israel
James Ivans
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Francis D Izoguirre
J
Michael Jacen
Black Jack
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John Jacks
John Jackson
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Verd Joamra
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Robert Job
---- Joe
Thomas Joel
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(8)
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---- Joan
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Randon Jucba
Manuel Joseph
Jucerria
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K
Mark Kadoody
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(2)
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Basil Laban
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(3)
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(2)
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(2)
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---- Le Fargue
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Tuft Lenock
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Lescimia
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Leynac
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Lillabridge
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Daniel Lyons
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Jonathan Lyons
Samuel Lyons
M
Jean Franco
Mabugera
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Enoch Mall
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Thomas Malleby
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Paul Malory
Thomas Makend
Nathaniel Mamford
---- Mamney
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Silas Manchester
Thaddeus Manchester
Edward Mand
Edward Manda
Jonathan
Mandevineur
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Hemas Mansfield
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Auree Marand
---- Marbinnea
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(2)
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Martin Martin
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Simon Martin
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George May
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Johnston
McCollister
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Peter McCoy
Samuel McCoy
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Petre McDonald
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(2)
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(2)
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(2)
Bradford McFarling
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Menlich
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Renard Mink
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Koel Mires
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James Mitchell
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Paul Mix
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Mark Mollian
Ethkin Mollinas
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George Molton
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Thomas Monroe
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(2)
James Montgomery
(3)
John Montgomery (2)
James Moody
Silas Moody
Hugh Mooney
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Adam Moore
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Joseph Moore
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Stephen Moore
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Wardman Moore
William Moore (6)
Charles Moosey
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Acri Morana
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W. Morce
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Toby Morean
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Grosseo Moreo
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Louis Morey
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Joseph Morgan
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Osborne Morrell
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David Morris
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W Morris
William Morris
Hugh Morrisin
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Abner Morton (2)
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Robert Morton
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Philip Mortong
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Negro Moses
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William Motley
Elkinar Mothe
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Jean Moucan
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John Moulton
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Hezekiah Muck
Jacob Muckleroy
Philip Muckleroy
(2)
Jacob Mullen
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Leonard Mullin
Jonathan Mullin
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Royal Munrow
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Hosea Munul
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Patrick Murphy
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Charles Murray
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Silas Murray
Thomas Murray
William Murray
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John Murrow
Samuel Murrow
Adam Murtilus
Richard Murus
Antonio Musqui
Ebenezer Mutter
Jean Myatt
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George Myles
Henry Myres
N
Ebenezer Nabb
Dippen Nack
Archibald Nailer
Thomas Nandiva
Hosea Nandus
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Joseph Nathan
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Gideon Necar
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Sucreason Newall
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Richard Nichols
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Arnox Noble
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Proper Norgand
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Joseph Nutter
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Ebenezer Nutting
Robert Nyles
O
Charles Oakford
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Robert O'Hara
Patrick O'Harra
Daniel Olbro
George Oldham
John Oldsmith
Raymond O'Larra
Devoe Olaya
Zebulon Olaya
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T
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Joseph Truck
Peter Truck
William Trunks
Joseph Trust
Robert Trustin
George Trusty
Edward Tryan
Moses Tryon
Saphn Tubbs
Thomas Tubby
John Tucke
Francis Tucker
John Tucker (4)
Joseph Tucker (2)
Nathan Tucker
Nathaniel Tucker
Paul Tucker
Robert Tucker (2)
Seth Tucker
Solomon Tucker
George Tuden
Charles Tully
Casper Tumner
Charles Tunkard
Charles Turad
Elias Turk
Joseph Turk
Caleb Turner
Caspar Turner
Francis Turner
George Turner
James Turner
John Turner (3)
Philip Turner
Thomas Turner (4)
William Turner (2)
Lisby Turpin (2)
Peter Turrine
John Tutten
Daniel Twigg
Charles Twine
Joseph Twogood
Daily Twoomey
Thomas Tyerill
Jean Tyrant
John Tyse
U
Urson Ullaby
Thomas Umthank
Benjamin Uncers
Joseph Union
Obadiah Upton
John Usher
Andre Utinett
Abirnelech Uuncer
V
Peter Vaidel
Pierre Valem
Joseph Valentine
George Vallance
David Vallet
John Valpen
Nathan Vamp
William Vance
Thomas Vandegrist
Francis Vandegrist
Patrick Vandon
John Vandross
Eleazar Van Dyke
John Van Dyke
Nathaniel Van Horn
William Van Horn
Christain Vann
Jean Van Orse
James Vanoster
Barnabus Varley
Patrick Vasse
Richard Vaugh
Aaron Vaughan
Andrew Vaughan
Christian Vaughan
David Veale
Elisha Veale
Toser Vegier
Bruno Velis
David Velow
William Venable
Moses Ventis
Samuel Ventis
Joseph Verdela
Julian Verna
Peter Vesseco
Justin Vestine
Pierre Vettelet
John Vial
Jean Viauf
William Vibert
Anare Vic
John Vickery
Roger Victory
David Viegra
Daniel Viero
William Vierse
Jean Vigo
John Vilvee
Lange Vin
Peter Vinane
Francis Vincent
William Vinnal
Robert Virnon
Jean Vissenbouf
Andrew Vitena
Joseph Vitewell
Juan Albert
Vixeaire
John Voe
John Vonkett
William Von Won
Nicholas Vookly
John Vorus
Henry Voss
George Vossery
W
Christian Wadde
Benjamin Wade
Thomas Wade (2)
Christopher Wadler
Richard Wagstaff
Joseph Wainwright
Jacob Wainscott
Matthew Wainscott
Charles Waistcoott
Ezekiel Waistcoat
Jabez Waistcoat
Jacob Waistcoat
John Waistcoat
Joseph Waiterly
Joseph Wakefield
Joseph Walcot
Asa Walden
George Walding
John Waldrick
Ephraim Wales
Samuel Wales
Baldwin Walker
Daniel Walker
Ezekiel Walker
George Walker
Hezekiah Walker
John Walker
Joseph Walker
Michael Walker (4)
Nathaniel Walker
(4)
Richard Walker
Samuel Walker (2)
Thomas Walker (2)
William Walker (3)
James Wall
Bartholomew Wallace
John Wallace
Joseph Wallace
Thomas Wallace (2)
Ebenezer Wallar
Joseph Wallen
Caleb Waller
George Wallesly
Anthony Wallis
Benjamin Wallis
Ezekiel Wallis
George Wallis
Hugh Wallis
James Wallis
John Wallis
Jonathan Wallis
John Wallore
Edward Walls
William Wallsey
William Walmer
Robert Walpole
John Walsey
Patrick Walsh
George Walter
John Walter
Joseph Walter
Jonathan Walters
Roger Walters
Henry Walton
John Walton
Jonathan Walton
John Wandall
Ezekiel Wannell
Powers Wansley
Michael Wanstead
George Wanton
Benjamin Ward
Charles Ward
Christenton Ward
David Ward
Joseph Ward
Simon Ward
Thomas Ward
William Ward
John Warde
Benjamin Wardell
John Wardell
James Wardling
Elijah Wareman
William Warf
Unit Warky
Joseph Warley
Joseph Warmesley
William Taylor Warn
Christopher Warne
Andrew Warner
Amos Warner
Berry Warner
John Warner
Obadiah Warner
Samuel Warner (2)
Thomas Warner
Robert Warnock
Christopher Warrell
Benjamin Warren
Jonathan Warren
Obadiah Warren
Richard Warringham
William Warrington
Thomas Warsell
Lloyd Warton
Joseph Wartridge
Townsend Washington
Asher Waterman (2)
Azariah Waterman
Calvin Waterman
John Waterman
Samuel Waterman
Thomas Waterman
William Waterman
(3)
Henry Waters
John Waters
Thomas Waters
John Watkins
Thomas Watkins (4)
Edward Watson
Joseph Watson
Henry Watson (2)
John Watson (5)
Nathaniel Watson
Robert Watson
Thomas Watson (5)
William Watson
John Watt
William Wattle
Henry Wattles
Joseph Watts
Samuel Watts
Thomas Watts
Andrew Waymore
James Wear
Jacob Weatherall
Joseph Weatherox
Thomas Weaver
Jacob Webb
James Webb
John Webb (3)
Jonathan Webb
Michael Webb
Nathaniel Webb
Oliver Webb
Thomas Webb (2)
William Webb (2)
Joseph Webber
William Webber (2)
George Webby
Francis Webster
William Wedden
John Wedger
David Wedon
William Weekman
Francis Weeks (2)
James Weeks
Seth Weeks
Thomas Weeks
John Welanck
Ezekiel Welch
George Welch
Isaac Welch
James Welch (5)
Matthew Welch
Moses Welch
Philip Welch
Joseph Wenthoff
Nellum Welk
John Wellis
John Wellman
Matthew Wellman
Timothy Wellman
Cornelius Wells
Ezra Wells
Gideon Wells
Joseph Wells
Peter Wells
Richard Wells
William Wells
Joseph Welpley
David Welsh
John Welsh
Patrick Wen
Isaac Wendell
Robert Wentworth
Joseph Wessel
William Wessel
John Wessells
Benjamin West
Edward West
Jabez West (3)
Richard West (2)
Samuel Wester
Henry Weston
Simon Weston
William Weston
Philip Westward
Jesse Wetherby
Thomas Whade
John Wharfe
Lloyd Wharton
Michael Whater
Jesse Wheaton
Joseph Wheaton
Henry Wheeler
Michael Wheeler
Morrison Wheeler
William Wheeler (2)
Michael Whelan
Michael Whellan
James Whellan
Jesse Whelton
John Whelton
Horatio Whethase
John Whila
Benjamin Whipple
(2)
Samuel Whipple
Stephen Whipple
Christopher
Whippley
Benjamin White (2)
Ephraim White
Ichabod White
James White
John White (7)
Lemuel White
Joseph White
Lemuel White
Richard White
Robert White
Sampson White (2)
Samuel White (2)
Thomas White (2)
Timothy White
Watson White
William White (3)
Jacob Whitehead
Enoch Whitehouse
Harmon Whiteman
Luther Whitemore
William Whitepair
Card Way Whithousen
George Whiting (2)
James Whiting
William Whiting
John Whitlock
Joseph Whitlock
William Whitlock
Samuel Whitmolk
George Whitney
Isaac Whitney
James Whitney
John Whitney
Peter Whitney
Joseph Whittaker
Jacob Whittemore
Felix Wibert
Conrad Wickery
Joseph Wickman
Samuel Wickward
Leron Widgon
John Wier (2)
John Wigglesworth
Irwin Wigley
Michael Wiglott
Stephen Wigman
John Wigmore
Edward Wilcox (2)
Isaac Wilcox
Obadiah Wilcox
Pardon Wilcox
Robert Wilderidger
Charles Wilkins
Amos Wilkinson
William Wilkinson
George Willard
John Willard
Julian Willard
John Willeman
Benjamin Willeroon
James Willet
Conway Willhouse
Amos Williams
Barley Williams
Benjamin Williams
Cato Williams
Charles Williams
Dodd Williams
Edward Williams
Ephraim Williams
Ethkin Williams
George Williams (3)
Henry Williams (2)
Isaac Williams (2)
James Williams (4)
Jeffrey Williams
John Williams (9)
Jonathan Williams
(2)
Moses Williams
Nathaniel Williams
Nicholas Williams
Peter Williams
Richard Williams
Samuel Williams (2)
William Williams
(2)
William Williamson
John Foster Willian
John Williman
Day Willin
Abel Willis
Frederick Willis
John Willis (2)
Jesse Willis
Abraham Williston
Joseph Willman
Abraham Willor
Guy Willoson
Benjamin Willshe
Benjamin Willson
Francis Willson
James Willson (2)
John Willson
Martin Willson
Thomas Willson
Timothy Willson
W. Willson
William Willson
Samuel Wilmarth
Luke Wilmot
Benjamin Wilson (2)
Edward Wilson
George Wilson
John Wilson
Lawrence Wilson
Nathaniel Wilson
Patrick Wilson
William Wilson
George Wiltis
Vinrest Wimondesola
Guilliam Wind
Edward Windgate
Joseph Windsor
Stephen Wing
Jacob Wingman
Samuel Winn
Jacob Winnemore
Seth Winslow
Charles Winter
George Winter
Joseph Winters
David Wire
John Wise
Thomas Witham
John Witherley
Solomon Witherton
William Withpane
William Witless
Robert Wittington
W. Wittle
John Woesin
Henry Woist
Henry Wolf
John Wolf
Simon de Wolf
Stephen de Wolf
Champion Wood
Charles Wood (3)
Daniel Wood (4)
Edward Wood (2)
George Wood
Jabez Wood
John Wood
Jonathan Wood
Joseph Wood (2)
Justus Wood
Matthew Wood
Samuel Wood (2)
William Wood
Herbert Woodbury
(3)
Jacob Woodbury
Luke Woodbury
Nathaniel Woodbury
Robert Woodbury
William Woodbury
Thomas Woodfall
David Woodhull
Henry Woodly
Nathaniel Woodman
James Woodson
Joseph Woodward
Gideon Woodwell
Abel Woodworth
Edward Woody
John Woody
Michael Woolock
Michael Woomstead
James Woop
William Wooten
James Worthy
John Wright
Robert Wright
Benjamin Wyatt
John Wyatt (2)
Gordon Wyax
Reuben Wyckoff
William Wyer
Henry Wylie
X
John Xmens
Y
Joseph Yalkington
Joseph Yanger
Joseph Yard
Thomas Yates
Francis Yduchare
Adam Yeager
Jacob Yeason
Jacob Yeaston
Pender Yedrab
George Yoannet
Edward Yorke
Peter Yose
Alexander Young
Archibald Young
Charles Young
George Young
Ichabod Young
Jacob Young
John Young (2)
Marquis Young (2)
Seth Young
William Young
Charles Youngans
Louis Younger
Z
Jean Peter Zamiel
Pierre Zuran
APPENDIX B
THE PRISON SHIP
MARTYRS OF THE REVOLUTION, AND AN UNPUBLISHED DIARY OF
ONE OF THEM,
WILLIAM SLADE, NEW CANAAN, CONN., LATER OF CORNWALL, VT.
The following
extremely interesting article on the prisoners and
prison ships of the
Revolution was written by Dr. Longworthy of the
United States
Department of agriculture for a patriotic
society. Through
his courtesy I am allowed to publish it here. I am
sorry I did not
receive it in time to embody it in the first part of
this book.
D D
Doubtless all of us
are more or less familiar with the prison ship
chapter of
Revolutionary history, as this is one of the greatest, if
not the greatest,
tragedies of the struggle for independence. At the
beginning of the
hostilities the British had in New York Harbor a
number of
transports on which cattle and stores had been brought over
in 1776. These
vessels lay in Gravesend Bay and later were taken up
the East River and
anchored in Wallabout Bay, and to their number were
added from time to
time vessels in such condition that they were of no
use except as
prisons for American troops The names of many of these
infamous ships have
been preserved, the Whitby, the Good Hope, the
Hunter, Prince of
Wales, and others, and worst of all, the Jersey.
It was proposed to
confine captured American seamen in these ships,
but they also
served as prisons for thousands of patriot soldiers
taken in the land
engagements in and about New York. The men were
crowded in these
small vessels under conditions which pass
belief. They
suffered untold misery and died by hundreds from lack of
food, from
exposure, smallpox and other dreadful diseases, and from
the cruelty of
their captors. The average death rate on the Jersey
alone was ten per
night. A conservative estimate places the total
number of victims
at 11,500. The dead were carried ashore
and thrown
into shallow graves
or trenches of sand and these conditions of horror
continued from the
beginning of the war until after peace was
declared. Few
prisoners escaped and not many were exchanged, for their
conditions were
such that commanding officers hesitated to exchange
healthy British
prisoners in fine condition for the wasted, worn-out,
human wrecks from
the prison ships. A very large proportion of the
total number of
these prisoners perished. Of the survivors, many never
fully recovered
from their sufferings.
In 1808, it was
said of the prison ship martyrs: "Dreadful, beyond
description, was
the condition of these unfortunate prisoners of
war. Their
sufferings and their sorrows were great, and unbounded was
their fortitude.
Under every privation and every anguish of life, they
firmly encountered
the terrors of death, rather than desert the cause
of their country. *
* *
"There was no
morsel of wholesome food, nor one drop of pure water. In
these black abodes
of wretchedness and woe, the grief worn prisoner
lay, without a bed
to rest his weary limbs, without a pillow to
support his aching
head--the tattered garment torn from his meager
frame, and vermin
preying on his flesh--his food was carrion, and his
drink foul as the
bilge water--there was no balm for his wounds, no
cordial to revive
his fainting spirits, no friend to comfort his
heart, nor the soft
hand of affection to close his dying eyes--heaped
amongst the dead,
while yet the spark of life lingered in his frame,
and hurried to the
grave before the cold arms of death had embraced
him. * * *
"'But,' you
will ask, 'was there no relief for these victims of
misery?' No--there
was no relief--their astonishing sufferings were
concealed from the
view of the world--and it was only from the few
witnesses of the
scene who afterwards lived to tell the cruelties they
had endured, that
our country became acquainted with their deplorable
condition. The grim sentinels, faithful to their charge
as the fiends
of the nether
world, barred the doors against the hand of charity, and
godlike benevolence
never entered there--compassion had fled from
these mansions of
despair, and pity wept over other woes."
Numerous accounts
of survivors of the prison ships have been preserved
and some of them
have been published. So great was
popular sympathy
for them that
immediately after the close of the Revolutionary War an
attempt was made to
gather the testimony of the survivors and to
provide a fitting
memorial for those who had perished. So
far as I
have been able to
learn most of the diaries and journals and other
testimony of the
prison ship victims relates to the later years of the
war and
particularly to the Jersey, the largest, most conspicuous, and
most horrible of
all the prison ships.
I have been so
fortunate as to have access to a journal or diary kept
by William Slade,
of New Canaan, Conn, a young New Englander, who
early responded to
the call of his country and was captured by the
British in 1776,
shortly after his enlistment, and confined on one of
the prison ships,
the Grovner (or Grovesner). From internal evidence
it would appear
that this was the first or one of the first vessels
used for the
purpose and that Slade and the other prisoners with him
were the first of
the American soldiers thus confined. At any rate,
throughout his
diary he makes no mention of other bands of prisoners
in the same
condition The few small pages of this little diary, which
was always kept in
the possession of his family until it was deposited
in the Sheldon
Museum, of Middlebury, Vt, contain a plain record of
every-day life
throughout a period of great suffering. They do not
discuss questions
of State and policy, but they do seem to me to bring
clearly before the
mind's eye conditions as they existed, and perhaps
more clearly than
elaborate treatises to give a picture of the
sufferings of
soldiers and sailors who preferred to endure all
privations,
hardships, and death itself rather than to renounce their
allegiance to their
country and enlist under the British flag.
The first entry in
the Slade diary was made November 16, 1776, and the
last January 28,
1777, so it covers about ten weeks.
The entries were as
follows:
Fort Washington the
16th day November A.D. 1776. This day I,
William
Slade was taken
with 2,800 more. We was allowed honours
of War. We
then marched to
Harlem under guard, where we were turned into a
barn. We got little
rest that night being verry much crowded, as some
trouble
[illegible]. * * *
Sunday 17th. Such a
Sabbath I never saw. We spent it in sorrow and
hunger, having no
mercy showd.
Munday 18th. We
were called out while it was still dark, but was soon
marchd to New York,
four deep, verry much frownd upon by all we
saw. We was called
Yankey Rebbels a going to the gallows. We got to
York at 9 o'clock,
were paraded, counted off and marched to the North
Church, where we
were confind under guard.
Tuesday 19th. Still
confind without provisions till almost night, when
we got a little
mouldy bisd [biscuit] about four per man. These four
days we spent in
hunger and sorrow being derided by everry one and
calld Rebs.
Wednesday, 20th. We
was reinforsd by 300 more. We had 500 before. This
causd a continual
noise and verry big huddle. Jest at night drawd 6 oz
of pork per
man. This we eat alone and raw.
Thursday, 21st. We
passd the day in sorrow haveing nothing to eat or
drink but pump
water.
Friday, 22nd. We
drawd 3/4 lb of pork, 3/4 lb of bisd, one gil of
peas, a little rice
and some kittels to cook in. Wet and cold.
Saturday, 23rd. We
had camps stews plenty, it being all we had. We had
now spent one week
under confinement. Sad condition.
Munday, 25th. We
drawd 1/2 lb of pork a man, 3/4 of bisd, a little
peas and rice, and butter
now plenty but not of the right kind.
Tuesday, 26th. We
spent in cooking for wood was scarce and the church
was verry well
broke when done, but verry little to eat.
Wednesday, 27th.
Was spent in hunger. We are now dirty as hogs, lying
any and every
whare. Joys gone, sorrows increase.
Thursday, 28th.
Drawd 2 lbs of bread per man, 3/4 lb of pork. A little
butter, rice and
peas. This we cooked and eat with sorrow and sadness.
Friday, 29th. We
bussd [busied] ourselves with trifels haveing but
little to do, time
spent in vain.
Saturday, 30th. We
drawd 1 lb of bread, 1/2 lb of pork, a little
butter, rice and
peas. This we eat with sorrow, discouragd.
Sunday, 1st of
Decembere 1776. About 300 men was took out and carried
on board the
shipping. Sunday spent in vain.
Munday, 2nd. Early
in the morning we was calld out and stood in the
cold, about one
hour and then marchd to the North River and went on
board The Grovnor
transport ship. Their was now 500 men on board, this
made much
confusion. We had to go to bed without supper.
This night
was verry long,
hunger prevaild much. Sorrow more.
Tuesday, 3rd. The
whole was made in six men messes. Our
mess drawd 4
lb of bisd, 4 oz of
butter. Short allow. We now begin to
feel like
prisoners.
Wednesday, 4th. We
drawd 4 lb of bisd. After noon drawd 2 quarts of
peas and broth
without salt, verry weak.
Thursday, 5th. We
drawd 4 lb of bisd at noon, a little meat at
night. Some pea
broth, about one mouthful per man. We now feel like
prisoners.
Friday, 6th. of
Decr. 1776. We drawd 1/2 of bisd, 4 oz of butter at
noon and 2 quarts
of provinder. Called burgo, poor stuff indeed.
Saturday, 7th. We
drawd 4 lb of bisd at noon, a piece of meat and
rice. This day
drawd 2 bisd per man for back allowance (viz) for last
Saturday at the
church. This day the ships crew weighd anchor and fell
down the river
below Govnors Island and saild up the East River to
Turcle Bay [Turtle
Bay is at the foot of 23rd street], and cast anchor
for winter months.
Sunday, 8th. This
day we were almost discouraged, but considered that
would not do. Cast
off such thoughts. We drawd our bread
and eat with
sadness. At noon
drawd meat and peas. We spent the day reading and in
meditation, hopeing
for good news.
Munday, 9th. We
drawd bisd and butter at noon, burgo [a kind of
porrige] the
poorest trade ever man eat. Not so good as provinder or
swill.
Tuesday, 10th. We
drawd bisd at noon, a little meat and rice. Good
news. We hear we
are to be exchangd soon. Corpl. Hawl verry bad with
small pox.
Wednesday, 11th. We
drawd bisd. Last night Corpl Hawl died and this
morning is buryd.
At noon drawd peas, I mean broth. Still in hopes.
Thursday, 12th. We
drawd bisd. This morning is the first time we see
snow. At noon drawd
a little meat and pea broth. Verry thin. We almost
despair of being
exchangd.
Friday, 13th of
Decr. 1776. We drawd bisd and butter. A
little water
broth. We now see
nothing but the mercy of God to intercede for
us. Sorrowful
times, all faces look pale, discouraged, discouraged.
Saturday, 14th. We
drawd bisd, times look dark. Deaths
prevail among
us, also hunger and
naked. We almost conclude (that we will have) to
stay all winter At
noon drawd meat and rice. Cold increases. At night
suffer with cold
and hunger. Nights verry long and tiresome, weakness
prevails.
Sunday, 15th. Drawd
bisd, paleness attends all faces, the melancholyst
day I ever saw. At
noon drawd meat and peas. Sunday gone and
comfort. As
sorrowfull times as I ever saw.
Munday, 16th of
Decr. 1776. Drawd bisd and butter at noon. *Burgo
poor. Sorrow
increases. The tender mercys of men are cruelty.
Tuesday, 17th.
Drawd bisd. At noon meat and rice No fire. Suffer with
cold and hunger. We
are treated worse than cattle and hogs.
Wednesday, 18th.
Drawd bisd and butter. At noon peas. I went and got a
bole of peas for 4.
Cole increases Hunger prevails. Sorrow comes on.
Thursday, 19th.,
Drawd bisd the ship halld in for winter quarters. At
noon drawd meat and
peas. People grow sick verry fast. Prisoners verry
much frownd upon by
all
Friday, 20th. of
Decr. 1776. Drawd bisd and butter this morn. Snow and
cold. 2 persons
dead on deck. Last night verry long and tiresom. At
noon drawd burgo
Prisoners hang their heads and look pale. No comfort.
All sorrow.
Saturday, 31st.
Drawd bisd. Last night one of our regt got on shore
but got catched.
Troubles come on comfort gone. At noon drawd meat and
rice. Verry cold
Soldiers and sailors verry cross. Such melancholy
times I never saw.
Sunday, 22nd. Last
night nothing but grones all night of sick and
dying. Men amazeing
to behold. Such hardness, sickness prevails
fast. Deaths
multiply. Drawd bisd. At noon meat and peas. Weather
cold. Sunday gone
and no comfort. Had nothing but sorrow and
sadness. All faces
sad.
Munday, 23rd. Drawd
bisd and butter. This morning Sergt Kieth, Job
March and several
others broke out with the small pox. About 20 gone
from here today
that listed in the king's service. Times look verry
dark. But we are in
hopes of an exchange. One dies almost every
day. Cold but
pleasant. Burgo for dinner. People gone bad with the
pox.
Tuesday, 24th. Last
night verry long and tiresom. Bisd. At
noon rice
and cornmeal. About
30 sick. (They) Were carried to town.
Cold but
pleasant. No news.
All faces gro pale and sad.
Wednesday, 25th.
Lastnight was a sorrowful night. Nothing
but grones
and cries all
night. Drawd bisd and butter. At noon peas. Capt
Benedict, Leiut
Clark and Ensn Smith come on board and brought money
for the prisoners.
Sad times.
Thursday, 26th.
Last night was spent in dying grones and cries. I now
gro poorly.
Terrible storm as ever I saw. High wind. Drawd bisd. At
noon meat and peas. Verry cold and stormey.
Friday, 27th. Three
men of our battalion died last night. The most
malencholyest night
I ever saw. Small pox increases fast. This day I
was blooded. Drawd
bisd and butter. Stomach all gone. At noon,
burgo. Basset is
verry sick. Not like to live I think.
Saturday 28th.
Drawd bisd. This morning about 10 cl Josiah Basset
died. Ensn Smith
come here about noon with orders to take me a
shore. We got to
shore about sunset. I now feel glad. Coffee and bread
and cheese.
Sunday, 29th. Cof.
and bread and cheese. This day washed my blanket
and bkd my
cloathes. The small pox now begins to come out.
Munday, 30th.
Nothing but bread to eat and coffee to drink. This day
got a glass of wine
and drinkd. Got some gingerbread and appels to
eat.
Tuesday, 31st.
Nothing good for breakt. At noon verry good. I grow
something poorly
all day. No fire and tis cold. Pox comes out verry
full for the time.
The folks being gone I went into another house and
got the man of the
same to go and call my brother. When he came he
said I wanted
looking after. The man concluded to let me stay at his
house.
Wednesday 1st of
Jany 1777. Pox come out almost full. About this time
Job March and
Daniel Smith died with the small pox.
Thursday, 2nd. Ensn
Smith lookd about and got something to ly on and
in. A good deal
poorly, but I endeavourd to keep up a good heart,
considering that I
should have it (the small pox) light for it was
verry thin and
almost full.
Friday 3d. This
morning the pox looks black in my face. This day
Robert Arnold and
Joshua Hurd died with the small pox. This day Ensn
Smith got liberty
to go home next morning, but omitted going till
Sunday on account
of the prisoners going home.
Saturday, 4th. Felt
more poor than common. This day the prisoners come
on shore so many as
was able to travel which was not near all.
Sunday, 5th. This
morning Ensn Smith and about 150 prisoners were set
out for home. The
prisoners lookd verry thin and poor.
Monday 6th. Pox
turnd a good deal but I was very poorly, eat but
litte. Drink much.
Something vapery. Coughd all night.
Tuesday 7th.
Nothing reml [remarkable] to write. No stomach to eat at
all. Got some
bacon.
Wednesday, 8th.
Feel better. This day I went out of doors
twice. Nothing
remarkl to write.
Thursday, 9th. Tryd
to git some salts to take but could not. Begin to
eat a little
better.
Friday, 10th. Took
a portion of salts. Eat water porrage.
Gain in
strength fast.
Saturday, 11th.
Walk out. Went and see our Connecticut
officers. Travld
round. Felt a good deal better.
Sunday, 12th. Went
and bought a pint of milk for bread. Verry good
dinner. Gain
strength fast. Verry fine weather Went and see the
small-pox men and
Samll.
Munday, 13th. Feel
better. Went and see the officer. Talk
about going
home.
Tuesday, 14th. Went
to Fulton market and spent seven coppers for
cakes. Eat them up.
Washd my blanket.
Wednesday 15.
Cleand up all my cloathes. Left Mr.
Fenixes and went to
the widow
Schuylers. Board myself.
Thursday, 16th.
Went to Commesary Loring. Have incouragement of going
home. Signd the
parole.
Friday, 17th. In
expectation of going out a Sunday. Verry
cold. Buy
milk and make milk
porrage. Verry good liveing. Had my dinner give.
Saturday, 18t.
Verry cold. Went to see Katy and got my dinner. Went to
Mr. Loring. Some
encouragement of going hom a Munday, to have an
answer tomorrow
morning. Bought suppawn (some corn?) meal and Yankey.
Sunday, 19th. Went
to Mr. Lorings. He sd we should go out in 2 or 3
days. The reason of
not going out now is they are a fighting at
Kingsbridge. Went
to Phenixes and got my dinner. Almost discouraged
about going home.
To have answer tomorrow.
Munday, 20th.
Nothing remarkable. Mr. Loring sd we should have an
answer tomorrow. An
old story.
Tuesday, 21st.
Still follow going to Mr. Lorings. No success. He keeps
a saying come
tomorrow. Nothing remarkable.
Wednesday, 22. Mr.
Loring says we should have a guard tomorrow, but it
fell through. The
word is we shall go out in 2 or 3 days.
Thursday, 23d.
Nothing remarkl. Almost conclude to stay all winter.
Friday, 24th.
Encouragement. Mr. Loring say that we shall go
tomorrow. We must
parade at his quaters tomorrow by 8 oclok.
Saturday, 25th. We
paraded at Mr. Lorings by 8 or 9 oclk. Marchd off
about 10 oclk.
Marchd about 6 miles and the officers got a waggon and
4 or 5 of us rid
about 4 miles, then travl'd about 1-1/2, then the
offr got a waggon
and broght us to the lines. We were blindfolded when
we come by Fort Independency.
Come about 4/5 of a mile whare we stay
all night. Lay on
the floor in our cloathes but little rest.
Sunday, 26th. We
marchd by sun rise. March but 8 miles whare we got
supper and lodging
on free cost. This day gave 18 pence for
breekft,
19 pence for
dinner.
Munday, 27th.
Marchd 2 miles. Got breekft cost 19 pence. Travld 2 or 3
miles and a waggon
overtook us a going to Stamford. We now got chance
to ride. Our dinner
cost 11 count lawful. About 3 oclok met with Capt
Hinmans company.
See Judea folks and heard from home. This day come 13
miles to Horse
neck. Supper cost 16. Lodging free.
Tuesday, 28th.
Breekft cost 11. Rode to Stamford.
Dinner 16. Travld 3
miles, supr and
lodg free.
Here the diary ends
when Slade was within a few miles of his home at
New Canaan, Conn.,
which he reached next day.
*
* * *
*
Perhaps a few words
of his future life are not without interest. He
was one of the
early settlers who went from Connecticut to Vermont and
made a home in what
was then a frontier settlement. He lived and died
at Cornwall, Vt.,
and was successful and respected in the
community. From
1801 to 1810 he was sheriff of Addison County. Of his
sons, one, William,
was especially conspicuous among the men of his
generation for his
abilities and attainments. After graduation from
Middlebury College
in 1810, he studied law, was admitted to the bar,
and filled many
offices in his town and county. After
some business
reverses he secured
a position in the State Department in Washington
in 1821. He was on
the wrong side politically in General Jackson's
campaign for the
presidency, being like most Vermonters a supporter of
John Quincy Adams.
Some time after Jackson's inauguration, Slade was
removed from his
position in the State Department and this so incensed
his friends in
Vermont that as soon as a vacancy arose he was elected
as Representative
to Congress, where he remained from 1831 to 1843. On
his return from
Washington he was elected Governor of Vermont in 1844,
and in his later
years was corresponding secretary and general agent
of the Board of
National and Popular Education, for which he did most
valuable work. He
was a distinguished speaker and an author of note,
his Vermont State
Papers being still a standard reference work.
To revert to the
prison ship martyrs, their suffering was so great and
their bravery so
conspicuous that immediately after the War a popular
attempt was made in
1792 and 1798 to provide a proper resting place
for the bones of
the victims, which were scattered in the sands about
Wallabout Bay. This
effort did not progress very rapidly and it was
not until the
matter was taken up by the Tammany Society that anything
definite was really
accomplished. Owing to the efforts of this
organization a
vault covered by a small building was erected in 1808
and the bones were
collected and placed in the vault in thirteen large
coffins, one for
each of the thirteen colonies, the interment being
accompanied by imposing
ceremonies. In time the vault was
neglected,
and it was
preserved only by the efforts of a survivor, Benjamin
Romaine, who bought
the plot of ground on which the monument stood,
when it was sold
for taxes, and preserved it. He died at an advanced
age and was, by his
own request, buried in the vault with these
Revolutionary
heroes.
Early in the last
century an attempt was made to interest Congress in
a project to erect
a suitable monument for the prison ship martyrs but
without
success. The project has, however, never
been abandoned by
patriotic and
public spirited citizens and the Prison Ship Martyrs'
Society of the
present time is a lineal descendant in spirit and
purpose of the
Tammany Club effort, which first honored these
Revolutionary
heroes. The efforts of the Prison Ship Martyrs'
Association have
proved successful and a beautiful monument, designed
by Stanford White,
will soon mark the resting place of these prison
ship martyrs.
APPENDIX C
BIBLIOGRAPHY
The writer of this
volume has been very much assisted in her task by
Mr. Frank Moore's
Diary of the Revolution, a collection of extracts
from the
periodicals of the day. This valuable compilation has saved
much time and
trouble. Other books that have been useful are the
following.
Adventures of
Christopher Hawkins.
Adventures of
Ebenezer Fox. Published in
1848.
History of
Bigelow's Life of
B. Franklin, vol II, pages 403 to 411.
Account of
Interment of Remains of American Prisoners.
Reprint, by
Rev. Henry R.
Stiles.
Elias Boudinot's
Journal and Historical Recollections.
Watson's Annals.
Thomas Dring's
Recollections of the Jersey Prison Ship, re-edited by
H. B. Dawson, 1865.
Thomas Andros's Old
Jersey Captive,
Lossing's Field
Book of the Revolution.
Memoirs of Ethan
Allen, written by himself.
Journal of Dr.
Elias Cornelius.
Dunlap's
Narrative of
Nathaniel Fanning.
Narrative of Jabez
Fitch.
Valentine's Manual
of
The Old Martyrs'
Prison. A pamphlet.
Jones's
Poems of Philip
Freneau.
Prison Ship
Martyrs, by Rev. Henry R. Stiles.
A Relic of the
Revolution, by Rev. R. Livesey, Published by
G. C. Rand,
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.
Experiences of Levi
Handford. C. I. Bushnell,
Onderdonk's
Philbrook's
Narrative in
Proceedings, 1874
and 1875.
Harper's Monthly,
vol. XXXVII.
Historical
Magazine, vol. VI, p. 147.
Mrs. Lamb's
Jeremiah Johnson's
Recollections of Brooklyn and
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, by
Mr. John D.
Crimmins.