1 In
1987, NYC Mayor Ed Koch authorized conversion of two Staten Island ferries into prison facilities to relieve overcrowding at Riker’s Island. The ferries were used in this capacity there until 1997.
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hathitrust
he year was 1805: Great Britain was once again fully engaged in another ongoing war with its archenemy, France. There were deaths on both sides, of course. These did not pose a logistical problem for the military. Of greater concern—at least to our story—were the inevitable prisoners taken by both sides, prisoners who needed to be dealt with, somehow, somewhere, and in conditions that, at least superficially, would maintain in them the spark of life in some form. Disused warships and retired merchant vessels answered this need, as they could provide shelter (in cursory form) and a confinement easily guarded by a minimum of wardens. They had a proven record, having been used successfully during the War of American Revolution; they were even put to this purpose not too long ago in New York at Riker’s Island.1 They are called “hulks,” and for good reason. The vessels put into service during this era as prison hulks were retired navy warships that had outlived their seagoing usefulness. They were typically First Rate ships of the line, perfect for this purpose due to their immense size. Stripped of their rigs, guns, and anything of use to a warship, these vessels were towed into the shallows of the Thames or some other river in England. Portsmouth, Woolwich, and Plymouth all held several prison hulks at one time or another. They were guarded by the dregs of the British army, men whose nature—sadistic, cruel, and ruthless—made them unfit for duty on the front lines, but left them well-suited to guarding prisoners in these rotting, rat-infested hell-holes. Overcrowding, inadequate rations of generally inedible food, scant clothing, and dark and dank surroundings created a breeding ground for rampant disease, often fatal to the prisoners; in fact, the mortality rate in these ostensibly “temporary” prisons averaged over thirty percent. As the ships were generally afloat and the prisoners enjoyed minimal time topside, there was little opportunity for escape, though many tried, and were caught, flogged, and
by William H. White
“The Old Jersey Prison Ship, in the Revolutionary War,” printed in the 1870 collection of narratives, Life and Death on the Ocean, A Collection of Extraordinary Adventures, edited by Henry Howe. In it is this recollection of an experience aboard the infamous British prison ship Jersey by Thomas Andros. “I now found myself in a loathsome prison, among a collection of the most wretched and disgusting looking objects that I ever beheld in human form. Here was a motley crew, covered with rags and filt‘ h; visages pallid with disease, emaciated with hunger and anxiety, and retaining hardly a trace of their original appearance. Here were men, who had once enjoyed life while riding over the mountain wave or roaming through pleasant fields, full of health and vigor, now shriveled by a scanty and unwholesome diet, ghastly with inhaling an impure atmosphere, exposed to contagion, in contact with disease, and surrounded with the horrors of sickness and death. Here, thought I, must I linger out the morning of my life, in tedious days and sleepless nights, enduring a weary and degrading captivity, till death shall terminate my sufferings, and no friend will know of my departure. A prisoner on board of ‘the old Jersey!’”
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HM Prison DARTMOOR—A Paradox in Devon, England
returned to their confinement to resume residency with rats, bugs, and other vermin, not to mention the frequent corpse, yet to be removed for burial in some shallow grave ashore. Some of the more fortunate escapees, once caught, were hanged, partly as a deterrent to others who might have been contemplating their own attempt at freedom. It seemed to have little effect. With the continuing war with France producing a steady stream of prisoners of war, the appalling conditions in the overcrowded hulks became a political liability to the Crown. In 1806 the decision was made to build with local labor a shoreside facility to house prisoners. The remote and
isolated moor in Devon, called Dartmoor, was selected and construction began. An architect named Daniel Asher Alexander designed a suitable, “escape-proof” prison, which took three years to complete. In 1809, the first batch of French prisoners of war were moved to His Majesty’s Prison Dartmoor from the decrepit hulks. A few years later, the French prisoners were joined by American sailors captured during the War of 1812. One has only to stand on the hill outside HM Prison Dartmoor and look out over the desolation of the moor to understand why the site was perfect for a prison. Cold, windy, and intimidating, the thought SEA HISTORY 165, WINTER 2018–19