The crew on board each ship consisted of a captain, mates, steward, a few sailors and marines, and about thirty soldiers. Each prisoner on his arrival was carefully searched for arms and valuables. His name and rank were duly registered. He was allowed to retain his clothing and bedding, and to use these, but during confinement was supplied with nothing additional. The examination having been completed, he was conducted to the hold of the vessel, to become the companion of a thousand other patriots, many of whom were covered with rags and filth, and pale and emaciated from the constant inhalation of the pestiferous and noxious atmosphere which impregnated the vessel. Strong men could not long resist inroads of sickness and disease. Many were taken down with typhus fever, dysentery, and smallpox. The vessel was filled continually with the vilest malaria. The guns were removed, portholes securely fastened, and in their place were two tiers of lights to admit air. Each of these air holes was about twenty inches square, and fastened by cross-bars to prevent escape. The steward supplied each mess with a daily allowance of biscuit, pork or beef, and rancid butter. The food was of the poorest which could be obtained, and of itself was sufficient to breed disease. The biscuits were mouldy and worm-eaten, the flour was sour, and the meat badly tainted. It was cooked in a common kettle, which was never cleaned, with impure water, and became a slow but sure poison. The prisoners were kept in the holds between the two decks, and the lower dungeon was used for the foreigners who had enlisted in freedom's cause. Here again the morning salutation was, "Rebels, bring out your dead." The command was obeyed, and all who had found relief in death were brought upon deck. Prisoners were allowed to sew a blanket over the remains of their dead companions before burial. The dead were taken in boats to the shore, put in holes dug in the sand, and carelessly covered. Frequently they were washed from their resting place by the incoming tide. Often while walking along the old Wallabout road, between Cumberland Street and the Navy Yard, I have seen the remains of the gallant patriots who lost their lives on the Jersey. In the "'fifties" of the present century it was no uncommon thing for pieces of bone and human skulls to be dug up on the borders of the old road.