A HISTORY
OF THE
CITY OF BROOKLYN
AND
KINGS COUNTY

BY

STEPHEN M. OSTRANDER, M.A.

LATE MEMBER OF THE HOLLAND SOCIETY, THE LONG ISLAND HISTORICAL SOCIETY, AND THE SOCIETY OF OLD BROOKLYNITES

EDITED, WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, BY

ALEXANDER BLACK

AUTHOR OF "THE STORY OF OHIO," ETC.

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOLUME II.

BROOKLYN
Published by Subscription
1894

Copyright, 1894,
By ANNIE A. OSTRANDER.

All rights reserved.

This Edition is limited to Five Hundred Copies, of which this is No. 21.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

VOLUME II

HISTORY OF BROOKLYN

CHAPTER IX
BROOKLYN AFTER THE REVOLUTION
1784–1810

Effect of the British Occupation on Life and Business in the County. Brooklyn particularly disturbed. Town Meetings resumed. The Prison Ships and their Terrible Legacy. Tragedies of the Wallabout. Movement to honor the Dead. Burial of the Remains. The Tammany Enterprise and the Removal of the Bones. Further Removal to Fort Greene. Organization of the Brooklyn Fire Department. The Ferry. The Mail Stage. New Roads. Planning "Olympia." Early Advertisements. Circulating Library and Schools. The Rain-water Doctor. Kings County Medical Society. Flatlands. Gravesend. Flatbush, the County Seat. Mills. Erasmus Hall. New Utrecht. Bushwick, its Church, Tavern, Graveyard, and Mills. The Boundary Dispute. The Beginnings of Williamsburgh. Rival Ferries. "The Father of Williamsburgh."

During the whole period of the Revolution Brooklyn had been peculiarly disturbed. More than any other of the county towns, it had been distracted and prostrated. Farms had been pillaged and the property of exiled Whigs given over to Tory friends of the Governor. Military occupation naturally resulted in great damage to property. "Farmers were despoiled of their cattle, horses, swine, poultry, vegetables, and of almost every necessary article of subsistence, except their grain, which fortunately had been housed before the invasion. Their houses were also plundered of every article which the cupidity of a lawless soldiery deemed worthy of possession, and much furniture was wantonly destroyed. At the close of this year's campaign, De Heister, the Hessian general, returned to Europe with a shipload of plundered property."1 While the other towns were receiving pay for the board of prisoners, and thus being justified in maintaining their crops, Brooklyn remained a garrison town until the end.

After the evacuation, Brooklyn's farmers and tradesmen at once turned their attention to the restoration of the orderly conditions existing before the war. It also became necessary to reorganize the local government. In April, 1784, was held the first town meeting since April, 1776. Jacob Sharpe was chosen town clerk, and Leffert Lefferts, the previous clerk, was called upon to produce the town records. The result of this demand has already been described in the reference to the missing records.

Before proceeding further with the narrative of Brooklyn's growth after the Revolution, it will be necessary to return for a moment to certain sad circumstances that followed the battle of Brooklyn and other successes of the British. The battle of Long Island was fought August 27, 1776, and Fort Washington was captured in November. These victories gave the British between 4000 and 5000 prisoners. At that time there were only two small jails in New York city. One was called the Bridewell, and was situated in Broadway near Chambers Street, and the other was known as the New Jail. These prisons could not accommodate the daily increasing number of prisoners. It was a dark hour in American history; success seemed to perch upon the banners of the enemy. Large accessions of prisoners were made, and quarters had to be provided for them. The churches were taken without ceremony and converted into receptacles for the captives. The sugar-houses were used for the same purpose. One of these was situated in Liberty Street, adjoining the old Middle Dutch Church. That church was also used. Within its walls thousands of prisoners were placed, regardless of comfort or sanitary rules. If its walls could speak they would tell a tale which would make a sad record.

The old North Dutch Church on the corner of Fair Street and Horse and Cart Lane (now Fulton and William streets) was also used as a prison pen, and within its walls a thousand persons were held. Within a few years this venerable landmark has succumbed to the march of progress.

The infamous Cunningham was at this time provost marshal of the city. He possessed the instincts of a brute, and often seemed to own the spirit of a demon. The sick and dying received no sympathy or care from him. Healthy men were placed in the same room with those having the smallpox and other maladies. Prisoners were not allowed sufficient food or bedding, and their clothes were scanty. The food was not fit to give to the beasts. The men must have reached the verge of starvation to induce them to partake of the unwholesome mess of wormy and mouldy food dealt out to them. The allowance made to the men was a loaf of bread, one quart of peas, half a pint of rice, and one and a half pounds of pork for six days. Large numbers died from want, privation, and exhaustion. So crowded were these prisons that there was no room to lie down and rest. The impure atmosphere engendered disease. Every morning the cry was heard, "Rebels, bring out your dead." All who had died during the night were carelessly thrown into the dead-cart and carried to the trenches in the neighborhood of Canal Street, and buried without a vestige of ceremony.

But the horrors of the city prisons were more than repeated in the tragedies of the prison ships in the bend of the Wallabout. The first vessels used were the freight transports which had been employed in conveying troops to Staten Island in 1776. These transports were for a short time anchored in Gravesend Bay, and received the prisoners taken on Long Island. When New York was conquered they were removed to the city. The Good Hope and Scorpion for a while were anchored off the Battery, and subsequently were taken to Wallabout Bay, and with other vessels were used as prisons. Two vessels at a time were kept in this service. Among the vessels thus used were the Whitley, Falmouth, Prince of Wales, Scorpion, Bristol, and Old Jersey.

In 1780 one of the vessels was burned by the unhappy captives, who hoped thereby to regain their liberty. The effort was unsuccessful, and the prisoners were removed to the Old Jersey, which continued in service until the end of the war.

Wallabout Bay had the shape of a horse-shoe. The Jersey was anchored at a point which is now represented by the west end of the Cob Dock. If Cumberland Street were continued in a straight line to a point between the Navy Yard proper and the Cob Dock, it would pass over the spot where this vessel was anchored.

Historians agree in saying that the treatment on all these vessels was alike, and that the Jersey was not exceptional. The Jersey was the largest of all, and having remained in service for so long a time had the most prisoners. On that account she has attracted the most attention.

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.

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.

Some of the men were assigned to wash and scrub the decks. This of itself was a great blessing, as it gave them occupation and additional rations. During the night watches it was as dark as Egypt between decks, for no sort of light was allowed. Delirious men would wander about and stumble over their fellows. Sometimes the warning shout would be heard, that a madman was creeping in the darkness with a knife in his hand. At times a soldier would wake up to find that the brother at his side had become a corpse. The soldiers in charge of the prisoners were mostly Hessians, and were universally hated as mercenaries.

Yet no amount of cruelty could drive patriotism from the hearts of the captives. On the 4th of July, 1782, they determined to celebrate the anniversary in a fitting manner. On the morning of that day, they came on deck with thirteen national flags, fastened on brooms. The flags were seized, torn, and trampled under foot by the guards, who looked upon the act as an insult. Nothing daunted, the men determined to have their pleasure, and began to sing national melodies. The guards became enraged, considered themselves insulted, and drove the prisoners below at an early hour, at the point of the bayonet, and closed the hatches. The prisoners again commenced to sing. At nine o'clock in the evening an order was given requiring them to cease. This order not being instantly complied with, the animosity of the guards was aroused, and they descended with lanterns and lances. Terror and consternation at once reigned supreme. The retreating prisoners were sorely pressed by the guards, who unmercifully cut and slashed away, wounding every one within their reach, and inflicting in many instances deadly blows. They then returned to the deck, leaving the wounded to suffer, without the means to have their wounds properly dressed. In consequence of this explosion of patriotism, a new torture was devised. The men, as a punishment, were kept below on the following day until noon, and thus were prevented from the enjoyment of the sun and air for six long weary hours. During this time they were also deprived of rations and water. As a result of the night's diabolism ten dead bodies were brought on deck in the morning.

To show the heartlessness of the guards, an incident is narrated of a man who was supposed to be dead, and had been sewed up in his hammock and carried on deck preparatory to burial. He was observed to move, and the attention of the officer in charge was called to the fact that he was still living. "In with him," said the officer; "if he is not dead, he soon will be." The sailor took a knife, cut open the hammock, and discovered that the man was still alive. Doubtless many men who had swooned away were buried alive.

At the time of these occurrences, the government did not possess the ability to make exchanges. The captives on the prison ships were mostly privateersmen, and, not being in the regular Continental service, Congress was unwilling to restore healthy soldiers to the ranks of the enemy, thereby adding to their strength without a full and exact equivalent.

The Americans had entered into an agreement to exchange officer for officer and soldier for soldier. They had but few naval prisoners, and thus could make no exchange for the unfortunate ones on these ships. Our authorities were compelled to let their captives on the water go at large, for want of suitable places to keep them. Washington took a lively interest in the matter, and entered into a correspondence with Henry Clinton and Admiral Digby on the subject, threatening retaliation. He, however, threatened and expostulated in vain.

The American rebels were urged by the British officers to enter their service. Some did enlist, with the hope uppermost in their minds that they would be able to desert.

The prisoners were released at the close of the war. The old Jersey was destroyed, and its decaying timbers became buried in the mud.

The bones of the prison-ship martyrs lay for many years bleaching on the banks of Wallabout Bay, where they had been rudely buried by the British. The action of the tide upon the sandy banks gradually washed away the little earth which had been thrown over them, thereby causing the sacred relics to become exposed to view. The attention of Congress was frequently called to the necessity of providing a suitable resting place for these honored remains. The sight of these bones strewn upon the banks of the bay was enough to awaken the interest of the nation. At last the citizens of Brooklyn became aroused, and at a town meeting held in 1792, a resolution was passed requesting John Jackson, who had collected a large number of the bones on his farm, which then included the land now used by the Navy Yard, to allow the relics in his possession and under his control to be removed to the Reformed Dutch Church graveyard for burial, and a monument erected over them. General Jeremiah Johnson was the chairman of the committee. The application was refused, Jackson having other intentions as to their interment. Jackson was a blunt man, and a firm believer in the principles of Democracy as enunciated by Jefferson. He was one of the sachems of the Tammany Society or Columbian Order.

He had several hogsheads full of bones which he had collected upon the beach. To consummate his plan he offered to the Tammany Society a plot in his farm for land whereon a suitable monument might be erected.

Tammany accepted the trust, and in February, 1803, entered actively upon the work. The society at once proposed and caused to be presented to Congress a stirring and forcible memorial on the subject. Congress, however, came to no determination in the matter, and the matter remained quiescent until 1808. Between the time of the acceptance of the offer by Tammany and the action by Congress in 1808, Benjamin Aycrigg, a prominent and influential citizen, became greatly interested in the measure. In the summer of 1805, noticing the exposed condition of these remains on the beach of the bay, his patriotic heart was horrified by the sight; his soul was filled with indignation that steps had not been taken to have them decently interred. He, in the same year, made a contract with an Irishman living at the Wallabout to collect all the exposed bones. The remains thus collected formed a part of those subsequently placed in the vault erected on the Jackson lot by the Tammany Society.

In 1808 Tammany again renewed its labors. At a meeting of the society a committee was appointed, called the Wallabout Committee, consisting of Jacob Vandervoort, John Jackson, Burdett Stryker, Issachar Cozzens, Robert Townsend, Jr., Benjamin Watson, and Samuel Coudrey. This committee was deeply interested in the work, and used every available means to enlist public sympathy and assistance. Memorials were prepared and circulated, and appeals made through the press and otherwise, urging the citizens to come forward and aid the sacred cause. In their efforts they did not confine themselves to New York, but sought to create a national interest in the undertaking. The patriotism of the people was appealed to, and the effort was crowned with success. When the subject was thus forcibly presented, the citizens of the young republic realized their obligation to provide a proper burial place for the dust and bones of her brave sons, through whose death the nation rose into existence. The measure was presented in a way which could not be resisted. The inhabitants of all sections became greatly interested, and nobly responded to the call, and the committee, finding so many ready to aid, assist, and approve, were enabled to commence the erection of the structure much sooner than they had at first anticipated.

The spot given was situated in Jackson Street (now Hudson Avenue), near York Street, abutting the Navy Yard wall. The street was named after the owner of the land. The name was afterward changed to Hudson Avenue.

The land was formally deeded by Jackson to the Tammany Society in 1803. When all things were ready the society caused the remains collected by Jackson, with all the bones found upon the beach, to be committed to the tomb with appropriate ceremonies.

The arrangements for laying the corner-stone were completed, and the 13th of April, 1808, fixed for that interesting ceremony. The order of exercises was as follows: At eleven o'clock the procession formed at the ferry, foot of Main Street, marched through that street to Sands Street, thence to Bridge Street, along Bridge to York Street, through York Street to Jackson, and thence to the ground.

As Major Aycrigg had ever manifested unabated interest in this labor of love, he was properly selected as grand marshal of the day.

The first division of the procession consisted of a company of United States marines, under command of Lieutenant-Commandant Johnson. The second division was composed of citizens of New York and Brooklyn. The third division embraced the committees of the various civic societies. The fourth division contained the Grand Sachem of the Tammany Society, Father of the Council, and orator of the day. The fifth division carried the corner-stone with the following inscription:—

In the Name of
the Spirits of the Departed Free.
Sacred to the memory of that portion of
American Freemen, Soldiers and Citizens,
who perished on board the
Prison Ships of the British
at the Wallabout during the
Revolution.
This corner-stone of the vault erected by the
Tammany Society
or Columbian Order

Nassau Island, Season of Blossoms, year of the discovery the 316th, of the institution the 19th, and of the American Independence the 22d.

Jacob Vandervoort,	}	Wallabout Committee
John Jackson,	}
Burdett Stryker,	}
Issachar Cozzens,	}
Robert Townsend, Jr.,	}
Benjamin Watson,	}
Samuel Coudrey,	}

Daniel and William Campbell, builders, April 6, 1808.

The sixth division was composed of a detachment of artillery under command of Lieutenant Townsend.

The procession having reached the ground, the artillery were stationed upon a neighboring hill, and the various divisions took the positions assigned them.

The oration, which was a brilliant effort, was delivered by Joseph D. Foy. The stone was then lowered to its place and duly laid by Benjamin Romaine, Grand Sachem of the Tammany Society, assisted by the committee, after which a grand salute was fired, and the band discoursed sweet and solemn notes.

The vault was completed in May, 1808. Arrangements were made for an imposing display, and no pains were spared in preparation. The various societies and public bodies were ready and anxious to do all in their power to render the occasion impressive and memorable. The citizens turned out en masse on the 26th of May, 1808, to bear testimony to the worth of these brave men whose obsequies were to be celebrated. They assembled at ten o'clock in the park in front of the City Hall, New York, under command of Brigadier Generals Morton and Steddiford, Garret Sickels, Grand Marshal, assisted by twelve aides.

The inscription on the pedestal was as follows:—

[Front.]
Americans remember the British.
[Right side.]
Youth of my Country
Martyrdom Preferred to Slavery.
[Left side.]
Sires of Columbia
transmit to posterity the cruelties practiced on board the
"British Prison Ships."
[Rear.]
"Tyrants dread the gathering storm
While Freemen, Freemen's Obsequies perform."

The orator of the day was Dr. Benjamin DeWitt, who delivered an able and patriotic address to the assembled multitude. He feelingly depicted the sufferings endured in British dungeons, and drew tears to many eyes by his eloquent and touching remarks, referring to the tyranny of the oppressors and the patience of the patriots. The oration concluded, in painful silence the coffins were committed to their resting place. Rev. Mr. Williston then pronounced the benediction, "To the King, Immortal, Invisible, the All-wise God, be glory everlasting, amen." The occasion was one long remembered in both cities.

During many years these relics remained forgotten in their sepulchre. The grade of Jackson Street was altered so as to take a part of the sacred ground. Jackson, when he gave the land, was not far-sighted enough to have secured the passage of an act to preserve its precincts intact, free from invasion by streets, and exempt from taxation. The land at one time was sold for taxes. It seemed as if the past had been forgotten. Then it was that Benjamin Romaine came forward and purchased the lot. In order to preserve it from desecration, he adopted it as his family burial plot. He resolved to be buried there himself, and placed within the vault a coffin designed for his mortal remains. He constructed the ante-chamber over the tomb. Upon the property he placed the following inscription:—

First—The portal to the tomb of 11,500 patriot prisoners of war who died in dungeons and pestilential prison ships in and about the City of New York during the war of our Revolution. The top is capped with two large urns in black, and a white globe in the centre.

Second—The interior of the tomb contains thirteen coffins assigned in the order as observed in the Declaration of Independence, and inserted thus—New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia.

Third—Thirteen beautifully turned posts, painted white, and capped with a small urn in black, and between the posts the above-named States are fully lettered.

Fourth—In 1778, the Colonial Congress promulgated the Federal League compact, though it was not finally ratified until 1781, only two years before the peace of 1783.

Fifth—In 1789, our General National Convention, to form a more perfect unison, did ordain the present Constitution of the United States of America, to be one entire Sovereignty, and in strict adhesion to the equally necessary State rights. Such a republic must endure forever.

In 1842, a large number of citizens applied to the Legislature for permission to remove the remains to a more private place. Romaine vigorously and eloquently objected to the proposed change, and the matter was permitted to rest quietly until after his death in 1844. During the following year attention was again called to the forlorn and neglected condition of the sepulchre. Henry C. Murphy was then in Congress, representing Kings and Richmond counties. The abject condition of the vault was brought to the notice of Congress, and action taken. The military committee recommended an appropriation of $20,000 to secure a permanent tomb and monument. The report was drawn by Henry C. Murphy, whose exertions in this behalf were untiring. The effort, however, was not successful.

Samuel Boughton, John T. Hildreth, John H. Baker, and other public-spirited men, holding diverse political views, started subscription papers, and published articles in the papers urging the importance of immediate action to accomplish the praiseworthy object.

In 1855, a meeting was held and a Martyrs' Monument Association formed. This association intended to have representatives from each State and Territory. The committee started with commendable energy. They early took the ground that Fort Greene was the proper site. Plans were proposed and subscriptions solicited. For a long time nothing more was done. The Common Council agreed to permit the use of Fort Greene. It was not until June, 1873, that the remains of the prison-ship martyrs were carried to the vault on the face of Fort Greene.2

The narrative here concluded has passed far beyond the limits of the period to which this chapter is devoted. Turning to the post-Revolutionary period, we find the county towns resuming a normal course of life. The Dutchmen who gathered at the Brooklyn church ceased to talk of war. The Episcopalians, who worshiped in John Middagh's barn, at the corner of Henry and Poplar streets, turned from politics to denominational questions, and the "Independents" built a meeting-house on the Fulton Street ground afterwards taken by St. Anne's Buildings.

We learn from the "Corporation Manual" (1869) that the first step toward a fire department within the limits of the present city was taken in April, 1785, by the organization of a fire-company. At a meeting of the freeholders of the town, held at the house of Widow Moser, in Fulton Street, near the ferry, it was agreed that the company should be composed of seven members, who should be commissioned as firemen for one year. They selected the following persons as the members of the company: Henry Stanton, captain; Abraham Stoothoof, John Doughty, Jr., Thomas Havens, J. Van Cott, and Martin Woodward. They also voted to raise by tax the sum of £150 for the purchase of a fire-engine. Among the regulations agreed upon for the government of the new company was a requirement that the members should meet on the first Saturday of each month, to play, clean, and work their engine, and that in case of their non-attendance, upon notification from their captain, a fine of eight shillings should be imposed upon them, and that upon the captain, in the event of his neglecting properly to notify the members, a fine of sixteen shillings should be imposed. The engine was in due time procured. It was constructed by Jacob Boome, of New York city, who had just then commenced business as the first engine-builder ever located in that city. Previous to his time, the fire-engines had generally been imported from England. The company adopted the name of "Washington Engine Company No. 1," and was, up to the time of dissolution of the Volunteer Department, still in active existence. Their engine-house was situated in a lane, now called Front Street, near its junction with Fulton Street.

The firemen continued to be chosen annually in town meeting, and the appointment was much sought after as conferring respectability of position in the community. On the 30th of April, 1787, the number of firemen was increased to eleven, and it was resolved that each fireman should take out a license, for which he should pay a fee of four shillings, the sums thus accruing being appropriated to the ordinary expenses of the company.

On the 15th of March, 1788, came the first state legislation relative to the firemen of Brooklyn. In 1794 there were about fifty families residing within the limits of the fire district; the entire population, including some 100 slaves, numbering 350 souls. There were about seventy-five buildings in the district, mainly located between what is now called Henry Street and the ferry. Those devoted to business purposes were generally near the ferry, where a supply of water from the river could readily and easily be obtained. Although fires were of exceedingly rare occurrence, and trivial in their character, yet nine years of use, or rather disuse and decay and rust, had rendered the engine unserviceable. In view of this fact, on the first Tuesday of April, 1794, it was resolved in town meeting that a subscription should be authorized to raise the funds necessary for the purchase of a new engine. The sum of £188 19s. was speedily collected, and a new and more powerful engine was procured. In 1795 the Legislature extended the limits of the fire district, and increased the volunteer force to thirty men. In town meeting it was resolved that each house should be provided with two fire-buckets, under a penalty of two shillings for every neglect so to provide after due notification. In 1796 a fire-bell was purchased by popular subscription, and set up in the storehouse of Jacob Remsen, at Fulton and Front streets, in sight of the ferry.

In the awarding of the ferry lease in 1789, it was ordered "that the boats, together with their masts and sails, be of such form and dimensions as the wardens of the port of New York should approve; that each boat be constantly worked and managed by two sober, discreet, and able-bodied experienced watermen; that each boat be always furnished with four good oars and two boat-hooks."3 A new ferry at Catherine Street was established in 1795.

Although the ferry was in active operation, traveling by land was by exceedingly primitive stages. As late as 1793, according to Furman, there was no post-office on any part of Long Island, and no mail carried on it. It was not until about the opening of the present century that the first post-route was started. As late as 1835 "the regular mail stage left Brooklyn once a week, on Thursday, having arrived from Easthampton and Sag Harbor the afternoon of the previous day; and this was the only conveyance travelers could then have through this Island, unless they took a private carriage." The practice was to leave Brooklyn about nine in the morning, to dine at Hempstead, and then "jog on to Babylon, where they put up for the night."4

By the enterprise of the Flushing Bridge and Road Company, incorporated in 1802, the distance between Flushing and Brooklyn was shortened about four miles. Three years later the Wallabout and Brooklyn Toll Bridge Company laid out a road extending from the Cripplebush road to the easterly side of the Wallabout mill pond, over which a bridge connected with Sands Street.