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_.
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