The Ghost Ship of Brooklyn

by Robert P. Watson

  Built in Plymouth Dockyard during a time of peace, the Jersey was launched on June 14, 1736. A marvel to behold, the ship was 144 feet in length (as measured on the gun deck) with a beam of over forty-one feet. Weighing more than one thousand tons, she was powerful yet sleek and, for the standards of the day, rather fast. Her keel extended nearly seventeen feet below the surface, allowing the ship ample storage space for powder, cannonballs, and supplies for her large crew and lengthy deployments.

  By 1770, however, the Jersey had seen better days, having sustained considerable damage in several unsuccessful engagements. Thus, while serving in the waters of Britain’s North American colonies before the Revolutionary War, the old ship that seemed to her crew to be cursed was converted to serve as a supply and hospital ship. This involved “hulking” the once-proud warship by removing her cannons, bridge, masts, sails, and even the figurehead on the bow. In the words of an unfortunate colonial who would soon call the ship home, “At the commencement of the American Revolution, being an old vessel, and proving to be much decayed, she was entirely dismantled, and soon after was moored in the East River at New York, and converted into a store-ship.”

  There she sat, anchored off the New York coast from April 1778 until the bitter end of the long conflict. Faced with a growing population of colonial prisoners during the Revolutionary War and not wanting to build prisons, British commanders made the decision to convert old warships to prison ships. Thus was the fate of the Jersey during the winter of 1779–80. She became a floating dungeon, as described by one of her prisoners: “Without ornament, an old, unsightly hulk, whose dark and filthy external appearance fitly represented the death and despair that reigned within.”

  2

  “The Glorious Cause”

  Better the greedy wave should swallow all,

  Better to meet the death-conducting ball,

  Better to sleep on ocean’s oozy bed,

  At once destroy’d and number’d with the dead;

  Than thus to perish in the face of day,

  Where twice ten thousand deaths one death delay.

  —Philip Freneau, “The British Prison-Ship” (1781)

  Contrary to the image of eighteenth-century Britain that is often presented in history books, the proud notion of “Rule, Britannia” was being challenged by provincial unrest throughout the empire. Rebellion in Scotland, discontent in Ireland, discord throughout the kingdom, and even periodic rioting at home posed problems for the Crown. It was about to get worse. The spark of revolution would soon follow in the American colonies, fanned by the Stamp Act of 1765, the Boston Massacre of 1770, the 1773 Boston Tea Party, and other events.

  Lord North, the British prime minister at the time of the “uprising” (as the British viewed America’s war for independence), initially sought to avoid armed conflict by attempting to reach compromise with the colonists. A similar hope was shared among many colonists in America who considered themselves British. Most celebrated their monarch and used English goods, even though they acted, dressed, and spoke in ways unlike their rulers across the Atlantic. However, after several miscalculations and amid escalating tensions, Lord North pursued a more aggressive course. Likewise, in 1775 King George III issued a Proclamation for Suppressing Rebellion and Sedition, labeling his royal subjects as “traitors.” He also dispatched General Thomas Gage to Lexington and Concord to quell the rebellion and arrest the colonial “troublemakers.” And war came.

  Engagements fought at the start of the war in the spring and summer of 1775 went better than expected for the outnumbered colonial forces and “Minute Men” volunteers. Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill were positive steps, and the Americans also scored a major coup the next year when cannons captured at Fort Ticonderoga in northern New York by General Henry Knox were rushed to Boston. The British occupiers of the city awoke the next day to the sight of guns atop Dorchester Heights ready to fire down upon them. They wisely and sheepishly evacuated the key city on March 17, 1776.

  The British had greatly underestimated American resolve at the outset of the war, suffering from a disastrous cocktail of arrogance and unpreparedness. Such was certainly the case for one British officer in Boston, who wrote of the colonials just prior to the start of the fighting, “It is a Masquerade Scene to see grave sober Citizens, Barbers and Tailors, who never looked fierce before in their Lives, but at their Wives, Children or Apprentices, strutting about in their Sunday wigs in stiff Buckles with their Muskets on their Shoulders, struggling to put on a Martial Countenance.” Overconfident indeed. Of the prospective enemy, the officer concluded, “If ever you saw a Goose assume an Air of Consequence, you may catch some idea of the foolish, awkward, puffed-up stare of our Tradesmen.”

  It was nothing less than scorn and contempt from the world’s mightiest army. The idea of a “citizen army” seemed downright silly to professional soldiers and the time-honored British officer corps. It was time to put an end to the rebellion, and to do that the British needed a military staging ground in the colonies. New York City was the obvious choice of locations.

  General William Howe sailed for the city in the summer of 1776 with more than 32,000 troops, including 8,000 of the dreaded Hessian mercenaries.* An armada of thirty warships, hundreds of transport and support vessels, and 10,000 sailors under the command of Howe’s brother, Admiral Richard “Black Dick” Howe, so named because of his “swarthy” complexion and dark countenance, accompanied the army. At the time it was the largest military venture ever sent overseas by Britain. An expeditionary force of this size would have been intimidating even to the strongest European powers, not to mention to a ragtag band of poorly trained farmers and ill-equipped blacksmiths. And that was precisely what was waiting for them in New York.

  General Washington guessed correctly that the British would come to New York City. After taking Boston, he marched ten thousand troops and roughly nine thousand militiamen to the city in April and dug in. One of the many problems he faced was that there were simply too many points of entry on the waterways in and around the city to prevent the British from landing somewhere. But a show of force might dissuade the British from attacking the city—or at least Washington would make them pay dearly for the real estate. The army spent May and June preparing for the massive invasion. Earthworks were erected in Brooklyn, artillery batteries were positioned on Manhattan, and a fort was built on the northern end of the island and named for the general. And then they waited.

  The coming battle was critical for other reasons as well. Washington knew he lacked experience leading a large army and managing a major war. His time in uniform was quite limited, and his first commands two decades earlier had been defined by costly, rookie mistakes.* The Virginian also had rivals eyeing his job, including Charles Lee, Israel Putnam, and even John Hancock. The general was forced to watch his back as questions about his fitness for command swirled.

  Unlike his rivals, Washington had not stated his interest in command, although he arrived in Philadelphia for the key meeting of the Continental Congress in the full dress uniform of the Virginia militia, unmistakably signaling his ambition. When offered the position as commander on June 15, 1775, the new general quickly accepted but noted the challenge before him: “Tho’ I am truly sensible of the high honour done me in this appointment, yet I feel distress from the consciousness that my abilities and Military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important Trust. However, as the Congress desires, I will enter upon the momentous duty and, exert every power I Possess in their service for the Support of the Glorious Cause.”

  Washington’s troops were inadequately trained, poorly provisioned, and about to be seriously outnumbered and outgunned in New York. Perhaps only half of them were, in his words, “fit for duty.” One soldier described his peers as “without clothes and shoes and covers to lie on.” Patches were sewn on top of patches on already-old garments. For others, clothing was so scarce that a barracks was constructed at the temporary base expressly for the
purpose of sheltering the naked. Short on food, men had resorted, according to their commander, to eating “every type of horse food but hay.” More than three thousand were ill and a few hundred were either missing or on furlough that summer. The situation was grave.

  The army that waited for the British was not much of one. Still, Washington issued orders to his men designed to prop up their waning confidence, announcing, “The time is now near at hand, which must probably determine whether Americans are to be freemen or slaves; whether they are to have any property they can call their own; whether their homes and farms are to be pillaged and destroyed. The fate of the unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the conduct and courage of this army.”

  The enemy arrived in July and established a beachhead on Staten Island. General Howe had license to attempt to negotiate a surrender or truce with the “rebels.” But Washington would hear nothing of it, responding, “Those who have committed no fault want no pardon.” Accordingly, Howe ordered his brother to ferry twenty thousand troops across the Narrows from Staten Island to Long Island and Brooklyn, with the main force landing at Gravesend Bay. The first major battle of the war was about to begin, and many of the men fighting would soon find themselves aboard prison ships.

  The first shots were fired at dawn on August 27, 1776, near Upper New York Bay on the far western end of Long Island by a small detachment of Americans charged with defending the main road across the island. Consisting mostly of militiamen, the group was inadequately trained and poorly equipped. To their horror, the sound of a snare drum broke the morning silence; it was followed by the sight of a few hundred British regulars. The encounter was over as soon as it started. Most of the Americans ran. Those who fought, including their commander—Major Edward Burd—were taken prisoner. The British continued on to Brooklyn but split their forces in a diversionary move, sending some units west along the coast and others east by Jamaica Bay. The ploy worked.

  The colonials retreated but regrouped about one mile up the road. Two officers there, Colonel Samuel Holden Parsons of Connecticut and Colonel Samuel Atlee of Pennsylvania, sent word back to General Washington that the invasion had begun, then rallied the men to dig in. But they were grossly overmatched. Two full brigades of British regulars, artillery companies, and the Royal Highland Regiment made quick work of the Americans. But this was just a distraction. Two massive armies, one led by General Howe himself, were moving in from other directions.

  General Washington placed the main line of his defenses at Brooklyn Heights under the command of his trusted friend General Nathanael Greene. Two other lines of defense were established in the city, one led by General John Sullivan, the other by General Lord Stirling. Unfortunately for the defenders, Greene became very ill and was replaced by General Israel Putnam of Connecticut. Unfamiliar with the city or terrain, Putnam failed to defend his left flank at a place called Jamaica Pass. The mistake would prove costly.

  General Howe was tipped off about the gap in the enemy’s defenses by locals loyal to the Crown, one of many instances when loyalists in the city conspired to undermine Washington’s efforts. Under cover of darkness on the night of August 26, Howe maneuvered a force of ten thousand to Brooklyn and then along the undefended pass. The Americans were awakened at sunrise by cannon fire on their exposed left and rear. The Battle of Brooklyn was under way.*

  The Hessians struck the center of the American line while five thousand British troops hit the defenders on the right flank. The British were everywhere. Amid the chaos, the center line of defense crumbled and the Hessians poured into the colonial ranks. The lines on the flanks were soon overrun as well, sending the Americans fleeing for their lives. Howe’s ruse worked. Washington’s men were surrounded, on the run, and cut off from escape. It happened so quickly that two American commanders—Sullivan and Stirling—were captured along with many captains, majors, and colonels.

  In the disorganized retreat, some units fled into marshlands. In the words of one British officer, “The Hessians and our brave Highlanders gave no quarters… it was a fine sight to see with what alacrity they dispatched the rebels with their bayonets, after we had surrounded them so they could not resist. Multitudes were drowned and suffocated in morasses—a proper punishment for all Rebels.” The Hessians, who proved to be as effective and merciless as their reputations, bayoneted many of those who attempted to surrender. The writings of one British soldier provide a disturbing insight into their motivation. The Germanic mercenaries had been told before the battle that “the Rebels had resolved to give no quarters to them in particular, which made them fight desperately and put all to death that fell into their hands.” Even though the warning was not true, the mercenaries believed it was a matter of “kill or be killed.”

  Accounts of the chaotic battle describe numerous instances of surrendering Americans being savagely beaten or murdered. One report comes from Lieutenant Jonathan Gillet of Connecticut, who said he and his men begged to be given quarter but were attacked: “I never shall forget the Roberys, blows and Insults I met with as well as hunger.” While some of his men were killed, others were beaten with the butts of Hessian muskets. Gillet was spared but was robbed of his clothing and possessions when he surrendered.

  A rifleman from Pennsylvania named Thomas Foster had an even more harrowing experience. When he was captured, the Hessians stripped him and put a rope around his neck. Foster was dragged to a nearby tree and hanged. Strangling and close to death, he was saved when the rope was cut by a knife at the last moment. Foster looked up to see the Hessians laughing. Their cruel game continued: once again, he was strung up by the neck, then cut down at the final moment before death. Another account was provided by Major Nicholas Fish, whose unit was beaten at Brooklyn. Fish recorded that many of his men were shot in the head as they tried to surrender.

  But at least Gillet, Foster, and Fish lived. Numerous reports by civilians and prisoners in the city mention that many of the Americans they buried had their heads split open. The consensus was that they were “massacred” by the Hessians after surrendering. Elsewhere around the battlefield, the bodies of colonials hung lifelessly from trees with long bayonets protruding from their torsos.

  The drubbing the colonials were getting at Brooklyn would have been even worse had it not been for Major Mordecai Gist and 250 brave volunteers from Maryland. Gist and his men held their ground and then counterattacked the main British advance. The courageous act helped divert the attention of the attackers and bought Washington’s army valuable time to retreat. Watching the heroics from atop a nearby hill, an anxious Washington observed, “Good God, what brave fellows I must this day lose.”

  The American army was beaten badly. Washington, who was nearly captured, was forced to pull back to Brooklyn Heights on August 29. The Continental Army was decimated and morale was low but, fortunately for the Americans, the evening brought a lull in the fighting. Facing the prospect of having his entire army killed or captured the next morning, Washington used Howe’s hesitation to evacuate his forces across the East River to Manhattan. A headstrong but capable fisherman from Massachusetts aided Washington. Colonel John Glover was tasked by his general to ferry thousands of men across the river in darkness and under the noses of the British, a feat he would soon repeat when Washington ordered his army across the Delaware River for his famous Christmas night attack on Trenton. The man Washington described as “a tough, little terrier” and his Marblehead fishermen and sailors worked through the night. Aided by a thick fog and favorable winds, they managed in nine hours to transport nine thousand exhausted and panicked troops along with supplies and cannons to safety. Washington’s ingenuity and quick thinking allowed the Continental Army to live to fight another day. Fittingly, the general was the last man to leave Brooklyn.

  The next day, General Howe stirred his forces from their sleep to finish off the Americans while Admiral Howe sailed thirty warships up the river. They were too late.

  Washington, however, had little time to
celebrate his escape, and his badly beaten troops had little time to recover. On September 15, General Howe launched a massive amphibious invasion of Manhattan from the East River. Once again, the Americans were overrun. Howe captured hundreds more volunteers and soldiers, including another twenty officers. Washington was in full retreat for a second time in the city.

  Again and again over the ensuing days, Washington found himself checkmated by Howe, who was aided by hundreds of loyalists throughout the city who provided him with valuable intelligence on every move made by the Continental Army. Admiral Howe’s fleet responded by launching amphibious landings throughout the city, while General Howe pursued Washington on land. Washington had no choice but to abandon the important city, although he stationed a force of roughly three thousand at Fort Washington and ordered them to hold the last American position in New York City. Desperate to save what remained of his army, Washington then fled northward to White Plains.

  On October 28, General Howe arrived at White Plains and attacked Washington’s position. The embattled Americans managed to fight to a stalemate, then put distance between themselves and the British by crossing the Croton River and marching to North Castle. It was another humbling retreat. This time, however, Washington caught a break. Howe did not pursue his foe. His massive army headed back to Fort Washington and attacked the final American garrison in the city on November 16. By midday it was apparent the fort would fall and the commanding officer, Colonel Robert Magaw from Pennsylvania, made the difficult decision to surrender. The decision was fraught with peril, as Magaw and his men knew that many of their brothers in arms had been murdered while attempting to surrender. The lives of the defenders of Fort Washington were spared, but the British captured another 2,800 of Washington’s best soldiers.