The ship lay imprisoned in the sand and, it was so cold, the salt water of the bay froze around it. There was no way for the people onshore to reach the men. Attempts made in vain only added to the unspeakable  anguish of those onboard who already knew they were dead men.

When the storm finally died down and rescuers made their way across the ice  to the wreck, they found the dead frozen in grotesque forms, some clutching ropes, others clutching each other in a death grip.

Survivors who didnt lose limbs from frostbite, lost their peace of mind. A mass grave was dug on Burial Hill for the more than 70 who froze to death. There was no list of their names. Many had been picked up in Boston, before the brig set sail south, and they hadnt been on board long  enough for the captain to log their identities.

The tragedy cast a pall on Plymouth that year. The people who witnessed the scene, who heard the screams, wanted to forget but couldnt.

Years passed, and, somehow, the weight of time buried the tale amid a parade of other wartime stories.

However, when the skeletal remains of a shipwreck emerged from the waters of White Flat in the 1970s, archaeologists and historians unearthed the  story, and sparked a heated debate when they concluded it was the wreck  of the General Arnold. Others were definitive that the ship had  been raised, rechristened and continued to sail the bounding main for  years afterward.

The late George Hanlon, of Plymouth, was among those convinced the wreck was the General Arnold.

And so begins the mystery.