Footnote 1:
From Mr. Crimmins’ recent book, _Irish-American Historical
Miscellany_. (New York, 1905.)
The horrors of the _Jersey_ prison ship have often been told. The
_Jersey_ and other hulks, used by the British, were anchored near the
Wallabout, Brooklyn, N. Y. Many thousands of prisoners perished on these
ships by cruelty and disease. The conduct of their captors was inhumane
and dastardly. It is not surprising, therefore, that the mortality was
so great.
William Burke, a prisoner aboard the _Jersey_, at one time, has left a
record in which he states that he was confined on the ship fourteen
months, and that he saw, among other cruelties, many American prisoners
put to death by the bayonet. This cruel treatment was never relaxed by
the English or Scots, but sometimes the more humane Hessians evinced
pity for the unfortunate sufferers. Burke says:
“During that period, among other cruelties which were committed, I have
known many of the American prisoners put to death by the bayonet: in
particular, I well recollect, that it was the custom on board the ship
for but one prisoner at a time to be admitted on deck at night, besides
the guards or sentinels. One night, while the prisoners were many of
them assembled at the grate at the hatchway, for the purpose of
obtaining fresh air, and waiting their turn to go on deck, one of the
sentinels thrust his bayonet down among them, and in the morning
twenty-five of them were found wounded, and stuck in the head, and dead
of the wounds they had thus received. I further recollect that this was
the case several mornings, when sometimes five, sometimes six, and
sometimes eight or ten, were found dead by the same means.”
It is estimated that over eleven thousand prisoners perished, from all
causes, aboard these ships during the Revolution. The dead would be
carried ashore and carelessly buried in the sand, their bodies, in many
cases, to be uncovered by returning tides. For many years after, the
bones of these martyrs were visible along the shore.
About 1801, John Jackson sold to the United States, through Francis
Childs, a middleman, forty acres of the Wallabout for $40,000. About
this time large numbers of Irish refugees arrived and located in New
York and Brooklyn. They bought some land of Jackson at, or near, the
Wallabout, the settlement being named “Vinegar Hill.”
During the summer of 1805, a Mr. Aycrigg, shocked at the exposed remains
of the prison-ship victims, made a contract with an Irishman residing at
Wallabout, to “collect all the human bones as far as may be without
digging,” and deliver the same to him. This was done, and these bones
were a portion of those interred in the vault patriotically erected by
Tammany.
Among the patriots imprisoned aboard the _Jersey_ were a great many
Irish. In 1888, the Society of Old Brooklynites published a pamphlet
dealing with the _Jersey_, and giving the names of several thousand
persons who had been confined therein, many of whom perished. A copy of
this pamphlet is in the possession of the New York Historical Society.
From that authoritative source we have compiled the following list of
patriots, bearing Irish names, who were confined on the _Jersey_:
Barry, Samuel
Black, James
Black, John
Black, Philip
Black, Timothy
Blake, James
Boyle, John
Brady, John
Broderick, William
Brown, Michael
Brown, Patrick
Bryan, Edward
Bryan, John
Bryan, Mathew
Bryan, William
Buckley, Cornelius
Buckley, Daniel
Buckley, Francis
Buckley, John
Burk, Thomas
Burke, James
Burke, William
Burn, William
Burns, Edward
Burns, John
Butler, Daniel
Butler, Francis
Butler, James
Butler, John
Byrnes, Hugh
Cain, David
Cain, Thomas
Callaghan, Daniel
Campbell, Philip
Cannady, James
Cannady, William
Carney, Anthony
Carney, Hugh
Carr, William
Carolin, Joseph
Carrall, Robert
Carroll, James
Carroll, John
Carroll, Michael
Casey, Edward
Casey, Richard
Casey, William
Christie, James
Cochran, James
Cogan, Thomas
Coleman, David
Collins, James
Collins, John
Collins, Joseph
Collohan, Daniel
Connell, John
Connelly, John
Conner, George
Conner, James
Conner, John
Conner, Robert
Conner, William
Connolly, Patrick
Connolly, Samuel
Connor, John
Conway, John
Conway, Thomas
Corrigan, Bernard
Corrigan, John
Cox, Joseph
Cox, William
Crane, Philip
Cullen, William
Cunningham, Bartholomew
Cunningham, Cornelius
Cunningham, James
Cunningham, Joseph
Cunningham, William
Curry, Anthony
Curry, William
Dailey, Patrick
Daily, James
Daily, William
Darcey, W.
Daunivan, William
Delany, Edward
Doherty, John
Doherty, Thomas
Donalin, Nicholas
Donogan, John
Dorgan, Patrick
Dorgan, Timothy
Dowling, Henry
Downey, John
Downing, Peter
Doyle, Peter
Doyle, William
Dring, Thomas
Duffy, Thomas
Dunn, Peter
Durphey, Patrick
Dwyer, John
Dwyer, Timothy
Dyer, Patrick
Fallen, Thomas
Filler, Patrick
Finagan, Bartholomew
Finn, Dennis
Finn, John
Fitzgerald, Edward
Fitzgerald, Patrick
Flinn, John
Ford, Bartholomew
Ford, Daniel
Ford, Martin
Ford, Philip
Fox, William
Fury, John
Gallager, Andrew
Gallaspie, John
Goff, Patrick
Grogan, John
Griffin, Joseph
Griffin, Peter
Haggarty, James
Hallahan, James
Halley, John
Hanagan, James
Hanagan, Stephen
Hand, Joseph
Hanegan, John
Hanes, Patrick
Hart, Cornelius
Hart, John
Hayes, John
Hayes, Thomas
Hays, Patrick
Hensey, Patrick
Higgins, George
Higgins, William
Hogan, Roger
Hogan, Stephen
Hughes, John
Hughes, Joseph
Hughes, Peter
Hughes, Thomas
Jordan, John
Jordan, Peter
Joyce, John
Kane, Barney
Kane, Edward
Kane, John
Kane, Patrick
Kane, Thomas
Kelley, John
Kelley, Michael
Kelley, Oliver
Kelley, Patrick
Kelley, William
Kelly, Hugh
Kelly, James
Kelly, John
Kelly, John K.
Kennedy, James
Kennedy, William
Kenney, John
Lafferty, Dennis
Lally, Sampson
Lane, William
Larkin, Thomas
Leary, Cornelius
Lee, Peter
Loggard, Patrick
Loney, Peter
Lowery, John
Lynch, Timothy
Lyon, Peter
Lyons, Daniel
Lyons, Michael
Macguire, Anthony
Malone, John
Marley, James
Martin, Daniel
Martin, James
Martin, John
Martin, Michael
Martin, Joseph
Martin, Philip
Martin, Thomas
Maxfield, Patrick
Maxwell, James
Maxwell, William
McCampsey, Mathew
McCanery, John
McCann, Edward
McCarty, Andrew
McCarty, Cornelius
McCarty, William
McCash, John M.
McClain, Francis
McClanegan, James
McClavey, Daniel
McClemens, Patrick
McCloskey, Patrick
McCloud, Murphy
McCloud, Peter
McClure, James
McClure, William
McConnell, James
McCormac, Hugh
McCormick, James
McCormick, John
McCowen, William
McCoy, George
McCoy, Peter
McCoy, Samuel
McCrea, Roderick
McCrady, John
McCulla, Patrick
McCullough, William
McCullum, Patrick
McDaniel, James
McDaniel, John
McDavid, John
McDermott, William
McDonald, John
McDonald, William
McDonough, Patrick
McEvin, John
McFall, James
McFarland, Daniel
McGandy, William
McGee, John
McGerr, James
McGill, Arthur
McGill, James
McGinness, Henry
McGinnis, James
McGoggin, John
McGowen, James
McHenry, Barnaby
McKay, Patrick
McKenney, James
McKeon, Thomas
McLain, Edward
McLaughlin, Philip
McLaughlin, Peter
McLayne, Daniel
McMichal, James
McNamee, Francis
McNeal, John
McNeil, James
McNeil, William
McQueen, William
McQuillian, Charles
McWaters, Samuel
Melone, William
Mungen, Michael
Mitchell, Anthony
Mitchell, James
Mitchell, John
Molloy, James
Morgan, Thomas
Montgomery, James
Montgomery, John
Moore, James
Moore, Joseph
Moore, Patrick
Moore, Thomas
Mooney, Hugh
Morris, Andrew
Morris, James
Morris, John
Muckelroy, Philip
Mullen, Jacob
Mullin, Robert
Mullin, William
Mulloy, Edward
Mulloy, Francis
Mulloy, Silvanus
Murphy, Daniel
Murphy, John
Murphy, Patrick
Murphy, Thomas
Murray, Bryan
Murray, Charles
Murray, Daniel
Murray, John
Murray, Thomas
Murray, William
Neville, Francis
Neville, Michael
Norton, John
Norton, Nicholas
Norton, Peter
O’Brien, Cornelius
O’Brien, Edward
O’Brien, John
O’Bryen, William
O’Hara, Patrick
O’Neil, John
Orsley, Patrick
Power, Patrick
Power, Stephen
Powers, Richard
Quinn, Samuel
Reed, John
Rafferty, Patrick
Regan, Julian
Reid, Hugh
Reynolds, Thomas
Riley, James
Riley, Philip
Riordan, Daniel
Roach, Joseph
Roach, Lawrence
Rowe, William
Rowland, Patrick
Ryan, Frank
Ryan, Jacob
Ryan, Michael
Ryan, Peter
Ryan, Thomas
Sullivan, John
Sullivan, Parks
Sweeney, John
Thompson, Patrick
Tobin, Thomas
Toy, Thomas
Tracy, Benjamin
Tracy, Nathaniel
Twoomey, Dailey
Walsh, Patrick
Ward, Francis
Waters, Thomas
Welch, James
Welch, Mathew
Welch, Robert
Welsh, David
Welsh, John
Wen, Patrick
Whelan, Michael
Wilson, Patrick
Many other Irish names could be added, but sufficient have been given to
establish the fact that a large number of the sons of Erin were among
those who suffered the rigors of the _Jersey_ prison ship.
Capt. Thomas Dring, who was a prisoner aboard the _Jersey_, tells us in
his _Recollections_ many startling facts about that terrible ship. He
says: “Silence was a stranger to our dark abode. There were continual
noises during the night. The groans of the sick and 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 all
directions.”
And another writer states that the lower hold, and the orlop deck, were
such a terror that no man would venture down into them. Dysentery,
smallpox and yellow fever broke out, and “while so many were sick with
raging fever, there was a loud cry for water; but none could be had
except on the upper deck, and but one was allowed to ascend at a time.
The suffering then from the rage of thirst during the night, was very
great. Nor was it at all times safe to attempt to go up. Provoked by the
continual cry to be allowed to ascend, when there was already one on
deck, the sentry would push them back with his bayonet.”
Stiles in his _History of the City of Brooklyn_, narrates a scene that
took place on the _Jersey_, July 4, 1782. He says: “A very serious
conflict with the guard occurred ... in consequence of the prisoners
attempting to celebrate the day with such observances and amusements as
their condition permitted. Upon going on deck in the morning, they
displayed thirteen little national flags in a row upon the booms, which
were immediately torn down and trampled under the feet of the guard,
which on that day happened to consist of Scotchmen. Deigning no notice
of this, the prisoners proceeded to amuse themselves with patriotic
songs, speeches and cheers, all the while avoiding whatever could be
construed into an intentional insult of the guard; which, however, at an
unusually early hour in the afternoon, drove them below at the point of
the bayonet, and closed the hatches. Between decks, the prisoners now
continued their singing, etc., until about nine o’clock in the evening.
An order to desist not having been promptly complied with, the hatches
were suddenly removed and the guards descended among them, with lanterns
and cutlasses in their hands. Then ensued a scene of terror. The
helpless prisoners, retreating from the hatchways as far as their
crowded condition would permit, were followed by the guards, who
mercilessly hacked, cut, and wounded everyone within their reach; and
then ascending again to the upper deck, fastened down the hatches upon
the poor victims of their cruel rage, leaving them to languish through
the long, sultry summer night, without water to cool their parched
throats, and without lights by which they might have dressed their
wounds. And to add to their torment, it was not until the middle of the
next forenoon that the prisoners were allowed to go on deck and slake
their thirst, or to receive their rations of food, which, that day, they
were obliged to eat uncooked. _Ten corpses_ were found below on the
morning which succeeded that memorable fourth of July, and many others
were badly wounded.”
An especially affecting incident is told regarding one prisoner, who
died on the ship: “Two young men, brothers, belonging to a rifle corps,
were made prisoners and sent on board the _Jersey_. The elder took the
fever and, in a few days, became delirious. One night (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. ‘Now,’ said he, drying up his tears, ‘if it please God
that I ever regain my liberty, I’ll be a most bitter enemy!’ He regained
his liberty, rejoined the army, and when the war ended he had _eight
large and one hundred and twenty-seven small_ notches on his rifle
stock.”
The Pennsylvania _Packet_, September 4, 1781, published a letter from
the _Jersey_, which said: “We bury six, seven, eight, nine, ten, and
eleven men in a day; we have two hundred more sick and falling sick
every day.” This will illustrate the terrible mortality aboard the ship.
In his _Recollections of Brooklyn and New York in 1776_, Johnson says of
the prisoners dying on the _Jersey_: “It was no uncommon thing 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 be
thrown in and a man with a shovel would cover them by shovelling sand
down the hill upon them. Many were buried in a ravine of the hill; some
on the 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. Ramsen’s barn along the mill pond, to
Rapelje’s, and the sandy island between the floodgates and the mill-dam,
while a few were buried on the shore on the east side of the Wallabout.
Thus did _Death_ reign _here_, from 1776 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
the dead bodies washed out of their graves by the tides. We believe that
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 bones of the dead lay exposed along the beach, drying and bleaching
in the sun, and whitening the shore, till reached by the power of a
succeeding storm; as the agitated waters receded, the bones receded with
them into the deep.... We have, ourselves, 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.”
“The _Jersey_ at length,” declares Stiles, “became so crowded, and the
increase of disease among the prisoners so rapid, that even the hospital
ships were inadequate for their reception. In this emergency, bunks were
erected on the larboard side of the upper deck of the _Jersey_ for the
accommodation of the sick between decks. The horrors of the old hulk
were now increased a hundred-fold. Foul air, confinement, darkness,
hunger, thirst, the slow poison of the malarious locality in which the
ship was anchored, the torments of vermin, the suffocating heat
alternating with cold and, above all, the _almost total absence of
hope_, performed their deadly work unchecked. ‘The whole ship, from her
keel to the taffrail, was equally affected, and contained pestilence
sufficient to desolate a world—disease and death were wrought into her
very timbers.’”
“There was, indeed,” Stiles remarks, “one condition upon which these
hapless sufferers might have escaped the torture of this slow but
certain death, and that was enlistment into the British service. This
chance was daily offered them by the recruiting officers who visited the
ship, but their persuasions and offers were almost invariably treated
with contempt, and that, too, by men who fully expected to die where
they were. In spite of their untold physical sufferings, which might
well have shaken the resolution of the strongest; in spite of the
insinuations of the British that they were neglected by their
government—insinuations which seemed to be corroborated by the very
facts of their condition; in defiance of threats of even harsher
treatment, and regardless of promises of food and clothing—objects most
tempting to men in their condition; but few, comparatively, sought
relief from their woes by the betrayal of their honor. And these few
went forth into liberty followed by the execrations and undisguised
contempt of the suffering heroes whom they left behind. It was this
calm, unfaltering, unconquerable spirit of patriotism—defying torture,
starvation, loathsome disease, and the prospect of a neglected and
forgotten grave—which sanctifies to every American heart the scene of
their suffering in the Wallabout, and which will render the sad story of
the ‘prison ships’ one of ever-increasing interest to all future
generations.”
The corner-stone of a vault for the reception of so many of the bones of
the martyred dead as could be collected, was laid in April, 1808, by
Tammany. The event was made the occasion of a great demonstration. There
was a big military and civic parade, artillery salutes and other
features. Major Aycrigg was marshal of the day and an eloquent oration
was delivered by Joseph D. Fay of Tammany. On May 26, 1808, the vault
being completed, the bones were removed thereto, the event being
signalized by another great demonstration. There were thirteen coffins
filled with bones of the dead, and 104 veterans of the Revolution acted
as pall-bearers. Stiles informs us that “The procession, after passing
through various streets, reached the East River, where, at different
places, boats had been provided for crossing to Brooklyn. Thirteen large
open boats transported the thirteen tribes of the Tammany Society, each
containing one tribe, one coffin, and the pall-bearers.” The scene was
most inspiring. “At Brooklyn ferry the procession formed again ... and
arrived at the tomb of the martyrs amidst a vast and mighty assemblage.
A stage had been here erected for the orator, trimmed with black crape.
The coffins were placed in front, and the pall-bearers took their seats
beneath the eye of the orator. There was an invocation by Rev. Ralph
Williston, and the orator of the day was Dr. Benjamin DeWitt. The
coffins were huge in size and each bore the name of one of the thirteen
original states.”