London’s Dungeons- Prison Hulks

In crowded Victorian London, where can a conspiracy get some privacy? What building has the square footage necessary for a fiendish plot? The answer floats on the river Thames.

In the 1700s, the growing population in the English prisons needed a solution. Convicts were shipped to America, until the Revolutionary War in 1776 stopped the flow of prisoners, causing a crisis. Parliament passed a temporary measure to turn decommissioned warships and merchant vessels into floating jails. The use of these “prison hulks” would last for 82 years.
A ship of the line could already house hundreds of men, making the conversions relatively simple. The masts and rudders were removed, taking away the ability to steer the ship. Below decks, iron-barred cells filled every foot of space. Passageways and ladders leading to the decks above and below divide the cells down the middle of the hulk.
Although the hulks were originally a temporary holding place for prisoners awaiting deportation, the Act creating the prison hulks was continually renewed causing many prisoners to serve their entire sentences aboard the ships.

The conditions aboard a hulk were worse than any British jail on land. The use of hammocks efficiently stacked the prisoners during sleep, which allowed more men to be crowded into the cells. The prisoners slept chained by their wrists and ankles.
Daily life on a hulk started at five in the morning when the prisoners awoke. After a meager breakfast, one deck was washed by the prisoners. The decks were washed in a rotation, so each deck was relatively clean for a few days. At seven the work parties left the hulk in boats, after having their restraints checked. a day of hard labor done (10 hours during the summer, 7 in the winter), they returned to supper and schooling or chapel in the evenings, before the prisoners were locked in their cells to sleep.
The hulks a cost cutting measure and the food served to the convicts is proof. Boiled ox-cheeks, peas and moldy bread were the entirety of their diet, unless the captain of the hulk allowed the prisoners to grow a garden on land.

The 1776 Act finally expired in 1857, putting the last of the hulks out of use. This could be ignored in a Victoriana Campaign taking place after the expiration (where better to seclude magical criminals), or embraced. All those ships are either going to be torn apart or sold. An entire ship full of prison cells could be just what some villain needs to get his plan started, and at these prices you’d be crazy not to. Here are a couple ideas of the mysteries a hulk could conceal:  

The Hulks of London 
The first of the hulks moored in the Thames near Woolwich marshes. Work crews from the hulks dug canals and built walls at the Arsenal, and labored to check the erosion of the river banks by driving posts into the muddy shores. Any job needing strong backs and little skill could be done by a work gang.
 Could the captain of the hulk be using his prisoner’s expertise to do other less mundane work? Are the prisoners just repairing the hulk’s hull or are they making more militaristic alterations? Why do so many of the new prisoner’s have sailing backgrounds?  

Disease 
Disease spread quickly to the confined crowds of the hulks. The sick were not given much medical attention and were not quarantined beyond being imprisoned on a ship. Typhus, cholera, and dysentery swept through the prisoners. A mortality rate of 30 percent was not uncommon aboard a hulk. Are the prisoners aboard the Hulk dying of a strange undiagnosed disease or is something far more foul afoot? Is it something in the water?

A Little Wood Work
The alterations transforming a ship of the Royal Navy into a hulk could hide covert activity. Are the lower decks of the ship’s hold just more cell blocks, or do they house something more sinister? Why do members of the Royal Academy of Science visits so often at night? And what’s with all the screaming?