_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.
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