being treated with lenity. Many of the American officers were plundered
of their baggage and robbed of their sidearms, hats, cockades, etc.,
and otherwise grossly ill-treated. Williams and three companions were,
on the third day, put on board the Baltic-Merchant, a hospital ship,
then lying in the sound. The wretchedness of his situation was in some
degree alleviated by a small pittance of pork and parsnip which a good-
natured sailor spared him from his own mess. The fourth day of their
captivity, Rawlings, Hanson, M'Intire, and himself, all wounded
officers, were put into one common dirt-cart and dragged through the
city of New York as objects of derision, reviled as rebels, and treated
with the utmost contempt.

From the cart they were set down at the door of an old wastehouse, the
remains of Hampden Hall, near Bridewell, which, because of the openness
and filthiness of the place, he had a few months before refused as
barracks for his privates, but now was willing to accept for himself
and friends, in hopes of finding an intermission of the fatigue and
persecution they had perpetually suffered. Some provisions were issued
to the prisoners in the afternoon of that day, what quantity he could
not declare, but it was of the worst quality he ever, till then, saw
made use of. He was informed the allowance consisted of six ounces of
pork, one pound of biscuit, and some peas per day for each man, and two
bushels and a half of sea coal per week for the officers to each
fireplace. These were admitted on parole, and lived generally in
wastehouses. The privates, in the coldest season of the year, were
close confined in churches, sugar-houses, and other open buildings
(which admitted all kinds of weather), and consequently were subjected
to the severest kind of persecution that ever unfortunate captives
suffered.