History of the city of New York, from its earliest settlement to the present time, Part 30

Author: Booth, Mary Louise, 1831-1889
Publication date: 1859
Publisher: New York, W. R. C. Clark & Meeker
Number of Pages: 866


USA > New York > New York City > History of the city of New York, from its earliest settlement to the present time > Part 30


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" smallpox, and conveyed to the Smallpox Hospital. " I had it light, and soon returned to the prison, but not " till I had seen it in its most malignant forms. Some " of my companions died in that hospital. When I " returned to the prison, others of our company had " been taken to the different hospitals, from which few " returned. I remained in prison for a time, when, " from bad air, confinement, and bad diet, I was taken " sick, and conveyed to the Quaker Meeting Hospital, so " called from its being a Quaker Meeting-house.


"I soon became insensible, and the time passed " unconsciously till I began slowly to recover health and " strength, and was again permitted to exchange these " scenes of disease and death for the prison. On my " return, I found the number of our companions still " further reduced by sickness and death. During all " this time, an influence was exerted to induce the men


" to enlist in the Tory regiments. Although our suffer- " ings were intolerable, and the men were urged by " those who had been their own townsmen and neigh- " bors, who had joined the British, yet the instances " were rare that they could be influenced to enlist. " So wedded were they to their principles, that they " chose honorable death rather than to sacrifice them. " I remained in the prison till the 24th of October, when " the names of a company of prisoners were taken down, " and mine among the rest. It was told us that we " were going home. We drew our week's provision, " which, by solicitation, we cheerfully divided among our " starving associates whom we were to leave in prison.


" But whether it was to torment and aggravate our feel-


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"ings, I know not ; but this I do know, that, instead of " going home, we were taken from the prison, and put on " board one of the prison-ships (the Good Intent) lying " in the North River, and reported there with one week's " provision. The scene of starvation and suffering that " followed cannot be described ; everything was eaten " that could appease hunger. From this and other " causes, and crowded as we were, with over two hun- " dred in the hold of one ship, enfeebled as we had " become, and now reduced by famine, pestilence began " to sweep us down, till, in less than two months, we " were reduced by death to scarcely one hundred. In " addition to all this, we were treated with the utmost "severity and cruelty. In December, when the river " began to freeze, our ship was taken round into the " Wallabout, where lay the Jersey, another prison-ship " of terrific memory, whose rotted hulk remained till " lately to mark the spot where thousands yielded up " their lives a sacrifice to British cruelty.


" The dead from these ships were thrown into the " trenches of our fortifications ; and their bones, after " the war, were collected and decently buried. It was " here that Ethan Allen exhausted his fund of curses " and bitter invectives against the British, as he passed " among the prisoners, and viewed the loathsome dens "of suffering after his return from his shameful


"imprisonment in England .* Here again I was taken


" sick and my name taken down to the hospital. The " day before New Year's, the sick were placed in a boat


* See Ethan Allen's Narrative, pp. 93-102.


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" for the city ; she had lost a piece of plank from her " bottom ; but it was filled up with ice, and we were taken " in tow. From the motion, the ice soon loosened, and " the boat began to leak ; and before we had gone far, " the sailors inquired if we leaked. Our men, from pride, "and not to show fear, replied but a mere trifle ; but " they soon perceived our increased heft, pulled hard for " a time, and then lay to until we came up. Our boat


" was half filled with water. When they saw it, they " cursed us, and pulled for the nearest dock, shouting for · "help. When the boat touched the dock, she struck "level with the water, and we held on with our " hands to the dock and a small boat by our side to " keep from sinking. It was low water, and the sailors "reached down from the dock, clenched hold of our " hands, and drew us up. I remember that I was drawn " up with so much violence, that the skin was taken from " my chest and stomach. One poor fellow that could not " sit up, we had to haul on the gunnel of the boat " to keep his head out of water ; but he got wet and died "in a few minutes after he was got on shore. We were " taken to the hospital in Dr. Rogers' Brick Meeting- " house (afterwards Dr. Spring's) near the foot of the "Park. From the yard, I carried one end of a bunk, " from which some person had just died, into the church, " and got into it, exhausted and overcome. The head "nurse saw my condition. She made me some tea, and " pulled the blankets from the sick Irish, regardless of " their complaints or curses, and piled them on me, till I " sweat profusely and fell asleep. When I awoke in the " morning, they gave me some mulled wine and water.


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" Wine and some other things were sent in by our gov- " ernment for the sick ; the British furnished nothing. I " then lay perfectly easy and free from, pain, and it " appeared to me that I never was so happy in my life, " and yet so weak that I could not get out of my bunk, " had it been to save the Union. The doctor (who was " an American surgeon and a prisoner, had been taken "out of prison to serve in the hospital) told me that " my blood was breaking down and turning into water " from the effects of the small pox. He said I must " have some bitters. I gave him what money I had, and . " he prepared some for me ; and when that was gone he " had the kindness to prepare some for me once or twice " at his own expense. I began slowly to gain, and finally " to walk about. While standing one day in March by " the side of the church, in the warm sun, my toes began " to sting and pain me excessively. I showed them to " the surgeon when he came in ; he laid them open ; they " had been frozen, and the flesh wasted till only the bone " and the tough skin remained. I had now to remain " here for a long time on account of my feet. And of " all places, that was the last to be coveted ; disease and " death reigned there in all their terrors. I have had " men die by the side of me in the night, and have seen " fifteen dead bodies sewed up in their blankets and laid " in the corner of the yard at one time, the product of " one twenty-four hours. Every morning, at 8 o'clock, " the dead-cart came, the bodies were put in, the men " drew their rum, and the cart was driven off to the " trenches of the fortifications that our people had made.


" Once I was permitted to go with the guard to the


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" place of interment, and never shall I forget the scene " that I there beheld ; they tumbled them into the ditch " just as it happened, threw on a little dirt, and then " away. I could see a hand, a foot, or part of a head, " washed bare by the rains, swollen, blubbering, and " falling to decay.


: " I was now returned to the prison, and from this " time forward I enjoyed comfortable health to the close " of my imprisonment, which took place in the May fol- " lowing. One day, as I was standing in the yard near " the high board fence, a man passed in the street close " to the fence, and without stopping or turning his head, " said in a low voice, 'General Burgoyne is taken with " 'all his army ; it is a truth, you may depend upon it.' " Shut out from all information as we had been, the news " was grateful indeed, and cheered us in our wretched " prison. Knowing nothing of what was taking place " beyond the confines of our miserable abode, we had " been left to dark forebodings and fears as to the result " of our cause, and the probabilities of our government " being able to exchange or release us. We knew not " whether our cause was progressing, or whether resist- " ance was still continued. Our information was " obtained only through the exaggerations of the British " soldiery. But this gave us the sweet consolation that "our cause was yet triumphant, and the hope of final " liberation. Had our informant been discovered, he " might have had to run the gauntlet, or lose his life for " his kindness."


Such were the horrors of the Old Sugar-house in Lib- erty street. Rhinelander's and the other sugar-houses


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in the city were also filled with prisoners, but as the Old Jersey ranked foremost among the prison-ships, this seems to have taken the precedence of all the rest. Columbia College was used as a prison for a short time only. The City Hall was converted into a guard-house for the main guard of the city, the dungeons below being filled with prisoners. During the latter part of the war, the court-room in the second story was granted to the refugee clergy for service in lieu of their churches.


Another prison was the Bridewell, in the Commons, a cheerless, jail-like building of grey stone, two stories in height, with a basement and pediment in front and rear, which is still remembered by many of our citizens. This building had been erected in 1775, just in time to serve as a dungeon for the patriots of the Revolution. At this time, it was scarcely finished, the windows were yet. unglazed, with nothing but iron bars to keep out the cold ; yet, despite the excessive inclemency of the weather, more than eight hundred of the unfortunate prisoners of Fort Washington were thrust within its walls on the day of the capture and left there for three days without a mouthful of food. "We were marched to New York," says Oliver Woodruff, one of the prisoners, who died not long since at the age of 90, " and went to differ- "ent prisons-eight hundred and sixteen went into " the New Bridewell, I among the rest ; some into "the Sugar-house ; others into the Dutch Church. " On Thursday morning, they brought us a little pro- " vision, which was the first morsel we got to eat or drink


" after eating our breakfast on Saturday morning. We " never drew as much provision for three days allowance


CITY OF NEW YORK.


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The Bridewell.


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" as a man would eat at a common meal. I was there " three months during that inclement season, and never " saw any fire, except what was in the lamps of the city. " There was not a pane of glass in the windows, and " nothing to keep out the cold except the iron grates." This statement is confirmed by N. Murray, who says that the doctor gave poison powders to the prisoners, who soon died. Every indignity which human ingenuity could invent was heaped upon the wretched prisoners in the furtherance of the policy which hoped thus to crush the spirit of the army by disabling those that had been taken prisoners for future service and terrifying the remainder by the possibility of a similar fate. In the first part of of their project they succeeded but too well ; on the 6th May, 1778, when an exchange of some of the prisoners took place, of the three thousand men who had been cap- tured at Fort Washington, but eight hundred were report- ed as still living. But this wanton cruelty only deepened the indignation of the patriots ; instead of bringing them humbled and submissive to the feet of Great Britain, it estranged them more widely from the once loved mother country, and forever destroyed all hope of reconciliation.


The most notorious dungeon, perhaps, of all, was the New Jail or Provost, so called from having been the headquarters of the infamous Cunningham, the provost- marshal of the Revolution. Through the influence of General Gage, he had succeeded to this post on the retirement of William Jones in 1775, and from the fact that he retained it until the close of the war, we may judge that his conduct was pleasing to his superiors. The injuries which he had received the preceding year at


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the foot of the Liberty-Pole, had never been forgotten, and he eagerly availed himself of this opportunity to wreak his vengeance on his defenceless prisoners. Among these were the most distinguished of the American captives ; Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga ; Majors Wells, Payne, and Williams ; Captains Randolph, Fla- haven, Vandyke, Mercer, and Bissell ; John Fell, a member of the Provincial Congress of New Jersey, with many other prominent men and officers, who, after having been released on parole, had been arrested again upon frivolous pretexts and thrown into a dungeon with the vilest criminals, where their brutal jailer heaped every possible indignity upon them, even amusing the young English officers, who were his frequent guests, at the conclusion of their drunken orgies, by parading his helpless prisoners through the courtyard of the jail as specimens of the rebel army. Not content with seeing them die a slow death from cold and starvation, he is said to have poisoned many by mingling a preparation of arsenic with their food, then continued to draw their rations as before, giving rise to the sarcasm that he fed the dead and starved the living ; and to have boasted that he had thus killed more of the rebels with his own hand than had been slain by all the king's forces in America. The cruelty practised towards the inmates of the Provost and the other prisons of the city rivals all that may be found in the annals of Christendom, and stamps the gene- ral who permitted it with far deeper disgrace than the subordinate who was only the instrument of his will. Mr. Pintard, one of founders of the New York Historical Society, at that time a young man, the clerk of his uncle,


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Elias Boudinot, who had been appointed Commissioner of Prisons by the Continental Congress, has left us a graphic picture of the scenes of which he was himself an eye witness.


The New Jail, now the Hall of Records.


" The Provost," says he, in a published document, " was destined for the more notorious rebels, civil, naval, " and military. An admission to this modern Bastile was "enough to appall the stoutest heart. . On the right hand " of the main door, was Captain Cunningham's quarters,


" opposite to which was the guard-room. Within the


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" first barricade was Sergeant O'Keefe's apartment. At " the entrance door, two sentinels were always posted, " day and night ; two more at the first and second bar- " ricades, which were grated, barred, and chained, also at " the rear door, and on the platform at the grated door " at the foot of the second flight of steps, leading to " the rooms and cells in the second and third stories. " When a prisoner, escorted by the soldiers, was led into " the hall, the whole guard was paraded, and he was " delivered over with all formality to Captain Cun- "ningham, or his deputy, and questioned as to his " name, rank, size, age, etc., all of which were entered "in a record-book. What with the bristling of arms, " unbolting of bars and locks, clanking of enormous iron " chains, and a vestibule as dark as Erebus, the unfortu- " nate 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 northeast chamber, turning to the left, on the " second floor, was appropriated to officers and charac- " ters of superior rank and distinction, and was christened "Congress Hall. So closely were they packed, that "when their bones ached at night from lying on the "hard oak planks, and they wished to turn, it could "only be done by word of command, 'Right, Left,' " being so wedged and compact as to form almost a solid " mass of human bodies. In the day-time, the packs and " blankets of the prisoners were suspended around the "walls, every precaution being used to keep the rooms " ventilated, and the walls and floors clean, to prevent


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enable Clinton with the main body of the army to skirt the hills by an easterly route, gain possession of the pass in the heights near Bedford, and thence turn the left of the American lines. The artifice was successful; Putnam, apprised by advance parties of the advance of Grant and De Heister, dispatched a strong detachment under Lord Stirling to guard the lower road, and another under Sullivan to stop the progress of De Heister, and it was not until the army under Clinton had gained the coveted position and opened a heavy fire upon Sullivan's rear, that the ruse was detected by the cheated general. Find- ing themselves thus completely hemmed in, the troops under Sullivan, after vainly attempting to break through the lines of the enemy, scattered in confusion and took refuge among the hills, where the greater portion with their commander were soon discovered and taken prisoners.


The conflict at the river pass was far more sanguinary. Posted with his troops on the slope of the hills north from Greenwood Cemetery, Lord Stirling maintained his ground against Grant, until the approach of Cornwallis with a large reinforcement warned him that further resistance would be in vain. Closely pressed by the enemy in front, and having in his rear the deep marsh and creek at Gowanus, eighty feet in width, two courses alone remained to him ; either to surrender at once to the enemy, or to attempt to escape across the creek, spanned only by the remnant of a half-burnt mill-dam. He gallantly chose the latter ; and, selecting four hun- dred men from the Maryland brigade to cover their flight, he ordered the remainder of his troops to retreat,


32


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then charged with fixed bayonets with this forlorn hope upon the brigade commanded by Cornwallis. Four times the desperate charge was repeated ; on the fifth, the enemy was on the point of yielding, when De Heister came up from the rout of Sullivan, and commenced an assault on the rear. This new onslaught determined the fortunes of the day. Stirling and a portion of the detachment surrendered themselves prisoners of war ; while the remainder resolutely cut their way through the ranks of the enemy, only to perish in the deep morass which ingulfed the most of their number. The loss of the Americans in this battle amounted to nearly twelve hundred men, a thousand of whom, including Lord Stirling and General Sullivan, remained prisoners in the hands of the enemy. On the day after the battle, General Woodhull was also captured while scouting at the southwest part of the island, and so severely hurt that he died of his wounds a short time after. About four hundred of the British were killed, wounded and taken prisoners.


Encouraged by this success, the victorious troops advanced in front of the American lines, which had been reinforced during the battle by Washington in person with a large body of troops from the city, and made preparations for investing them in form. In this emer- gency, Washington summoned a council of his officers, and, by their advice, determined to evacuate the island. In order to conceal this resolution from the British, it was announced that boats were wanted to transport a detachment of the American troops to Hellgate in order to attack the enemy in the rear. At eight in the even-


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ing of the 29th, the embarkation commenced under cover of a heavy fog and a fine, drizzling rain. To deceive the British, companies of troops marched and countermarched from the ferry to the lines while their comrades were embarking. At eleven o'clock, the wind, which had been unfavorable, suddenly changed, and the boats crossed rapidly, almost under the bows of the British fleet which was lying in the Narrows, oblivious of the easy escape of its prey. Nor was this the only . danger to which the Americans were exposed ; a Tory who lived in close proximity to the ferry, dispatched a negro servant with the intelligence to Clinton ; but the slave was apprehended by a Hessian guard, who, not understanding his language, detained him until morning, then conducted him to headquarters, too late for his mes- sage. Washington, who for two days had scarcely quit- ted his saddle, superintended the retreat of his troops with intense anxiety, each moment expecting to see them discovered by the enemy. But the friendly fog screened them effectually, the boats rapidly crossed and recrossed in safety, and, by sunrise the next morning, the whole army of nine thousand men, with their prisoners, bag- gage, and stores, together with most of the wounded, were safely landed on the opposite shore. The fog continued till a late hour the next morning, when the British scouts, suspecting that all was not right from the dead silence which reigned in the camp, drew nearer and nearer the American line .* By and by, one, more daring than the rest, crept cautiously within


See Onderdonk's Revolutionary Incidents, pp. 130-131.


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the works, and finding them abandoned, gave the alarm, upon which the British army rushed in and hastened to the ferry, just in time to witness the escape of their foes.


Thinking this a favorable moment for winning back the colonies to their allegiance, Howe opened a negotia- tion with the Continental Congress, promising pardon to all who would lay down their arms, together with a repeal of the obnoxious laws in which the struggle had originated. But this concession came too late ; the people had grown into a spirit of self-government, and, in the conference which was subsequently held on Staten Island, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Francis Rutledge, the commissioners appointed by Congress for the negotiation, refused to treat for peace on any other terms than the full and entire acknowledgment of the independence of the colonies. This, of course, was


inadmissible. Seeing that no terms could be made with Congress, Howe issued a proclamation repeating the offer to the people, then proceeded at once to invest the city.


Notwithstanding the fortifications which had been erected, it was evident to all that the city could not maintain a siege against the British on the neighboring islands and the ships of war which held the harbor in · blockade, and on the 12th of September, Washington called a council of war, and reluctantly determined to abandon it to its fate. The military stores were at once ordered to be removed across the Harlem River, a con- siderable force was stationed at Kingsbridge, Putnam was left with a force of four thousand men in the city,


,


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and Washington withdrew with the main body of the army to Harlem Heights .*


What was next to be done ? was a question which Washington put to himself, but could gain no reply. The British had complete possession of both rivers ; they could ascend when they pleased, and, landing above him, hem him in and insure the destruction of his army, for resistance would be in vain with such unequal forces ; could attack the city at once, or could cross over from Long Island and attack him when they thought proper. That he would eventually be forced to evacuate the island, he foresaw clearly-to evacuate it too soon would be to yield an important advantage to the enemy ; to linger too long would be to surrender his army. His own conduct must depend on the movements of Howe, yet with all his endeavors he had failed to procure the slightest clue to these movements. In this emergency, it was resolved, in a council of war, to send a trusty man to penetrate the enemy's ranks in disguise and obtain the desired information, and Nathan Hale, a young officer in the regiment of Knowlton, volunteered to undertake the dangerous mission. He passed over to Long Island, penetrated the enemy's lines, made drawings of his works, and gained full intelligence of the projected movements of the army. On his return he was recog- nized as belonging to the American army, and at once


* After his retreat from the city, Washington first fixed his quarters at the house of Robert Murray on Murray Hill, whence he issued his instructions to Nathan Hale, and where he was on the day preceding the landing of Howe. On the 15th, he was at Mott's Tavern, at the corner of One Hundred and Forty-third street and Eighth Avenue. He subsequently resided at the house of Col. Roger Morris, on the shore of the Harlem River.


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arrested and conveyed to the Beekman House, on the corner of Fifty-first street and First avenue, now the head-quarters of General Howe, who, since his departure, had taken possession of the island. Here he was tried, convicted as a spy, and sentenced to be hung the next morning at day-break. He was at once delivered over to the notorious Cunningham, the Provost-Marshal of the Revolution, who confined him for the night in the green-house of the garden, refusing his prayer for a light and writing materials that he might write for the last time to his parents and friends. Through the influ- ence of the lieutenant, these were afterwards furnished him ; but, in the morning, Cunningham savagely tore the letters in pieces before his eyes, declaring that the rebels should never know that they could die with so much firmness ; and ordered the prisoner to immediate execu- tion, demanding, as a last refinement of cruelty, that he should make a dying speech and confession. "I only "regret that I have but one life to lose for my country," was the calm reply of the doomed patriot. These were his last words ; the next moment he was suspended on an apple-tree in the orchard, whence his bones were thrust into a nameless grave. The tragedy cast a deep gloom over the army, in which Hale was universally beloved ; while the heartlessness with which the affair was conducted must ever remain a stigma on the name of the British general.




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