The only relief the prisoners had was permission to remain on deck until sunset. When the golden orb of day sunk beneath the horizon, the ears of all were saluted with the obnoxious cry, "Down, rebels, down." When all had retired to the hold, the hatchway was closed, leaving only a small trap open to admit air. At this trapdoor a sentinel was placed, with instructions to allow but one man to ascend at a time during the night. The sentinels possessed the same cruel spirit as their masters. A prisoner who had been confined on the Jersey for fourteen months said that, on occasions when the prisoners gathered at the hatchway to obtain fresh air, the sentinel repeatedly thrust his bayonet among them and killed several. These acts created a desire for revenge. Many of the men were enabled to endure their trials by the thought that the night of darkness would soon pass away, and the day dawn when they could take vengeance on the scoundrels who had treated them with so much brutality. An instance of this determination to be revenged is narrated in the life of Silas Talbot. It appears that two brothers belonging to the same rifle corps were made prisoners and sent on board the Jersey. The elder was attacked with fever and became delirious. One night, as his end was fast approaching, reason resumed its sway, and, while lamenting his sad fate and breathing a prayer for his mother, he begged for a little water. His brother entreated the guard to give him some, but the request was brutally refused. The sick boy drew near to death, and his last struggle came. The brother offered the guard a guinea for an inch of candle to enable him to behold the last gasping smile of love and affection. This request was refused. "Now," said he, "if it please God that I ever regain my liberty, I'll be a most bitter enemy." He soon after became a free man, and, to show how well he kept his word, it is only necessary to say that when the war closed "he had 8 large and 127 small notches in his rifle stock." These notches probably represented 8 officers and 127 privates. On one occasion 130 men were brought to the Jersey by the villain Sprout, who was commissary of prisoners. As he approached the black unsightly hulk, he pointed to her sardonically, and told his captives, "There, rebels, there is the cage for you." The same bitter round was the daily portion of the men,--during the day a little air and sunlight, and being compelled to listen to the curses and imprecations of their captors, while at night they had to breathe the stifling air between decks, and listen to the groans of the sick and dying, without the power to give them any relief.