On May 25, 1780, Freneau, in the ship Aurora, started from Philadelphia as a passenger for Santa Cruz. The next day, while off Cape Henlopen, the ship was captured by the British frigate Iris, Capt. Hawkes, and the crew and passengers sent to New York as prisoners. For Freneau's account of his capture and captivity, see Some Account of the Capture of the Ship Aurora, 1899.
[27] Freneau was placed on board the Scorpion, June 1, and was exchanged July 12, 1780.
[28] "The weather was very stormy and the river uncommonly rough. The ship rolled considerably, and the water gushed into some of the lower ports, which made some of the landsmen who slept in the cable tier imagine she was sinking. In a moment the alarm became general. 'The ship is sinking! the ship is sinking!' was echoed fore and aft. I expected every moment to feel myself afloat in the berth where I lay; but at the same time considering it would be a folly to drown between decks when I perhaps might get on shore somehow, I jumped up and hurried toward the main hatchway, where a multitude was endeavouring to get out; the sentries at the same time beating on their heads with their drawn swords and marquets without mercy.... Some lamented that they should never see their wives and children again; others begged by the love of God to be let upon deck and they would bind themselves slaves forever on board a man-of-war, or any other service.... After some trouble we got a light, and examining the pump-well, found the ship dry and tight."—Freneau's Journal.
[29] "One, Gauzoo, was steward of the ship—one of the most brutal of mankind, who abused us continually. It is impossible for words to give his character; it seemed as though he could not give any of us a civil word upon the most indifferent occasion. When he was not cursing us, he kept in his cabin in gloomy reserve, the most vile and detestable of mortals."—Freneau's Journal.
[30] "At sundown we were ordered down between the decks, to the number of nearly three hundred of us. The best lodgings I could procure this night was on a chest, almost suffocated with the heat and stench. I expected to die before morning, but human nature can bear more than one would at first suppose."—Freneau's Journal.
[31] "The Hunter had been very newly put to the use of a hospital-ship. She was miserably dirty and cluttered. Her decks leaked to such a degree that the sick were deluged with every shower of rain. Between decks they lay along struggling in the agonies of death; dying with putrid and bilious fevers; lamenting their hard fate to die at such a fatal distance from their friends; others totally insensible, and yielding their last breath in all the horrors of light-headed frenzy.... Our allowance in the Hunter, to those upon full diet, was one pound of bread and one pound of fresh beef per diem; to those upon half diet, one pound of bread and one-half pound of beef or mutton per diem. Every other day we had a cask of spruce beer sent on board. Our fresh meat was generally heads or shanks, and would just answer to make soup."—Freneau's Journal.
[32] "A German doctor attended every morning at eight o'clock and administered such remedies as were thought proper. Thus things went on, two or three dying every day, who were carried on shore and buried in the bank, till three of our crew, who had got pretty hearty, stole the boat one night and made their escape. This occasioned new trouble. The doctor refused to come on board, and as he rowed past us next morning to see somebody in the Jersey, which lay near us, some of the sick calling to him for blisters, he told them to put tar on their backs, which would serve as well as anything, and so rowed away. However, after two or three days his wrath was appeased, and he deigned to come on board again."—Freneau's Journal.