I never gave up the hope of escaping, and the excitement of the hope was beneficial to both body and mind. We were too well watched, however, and conversation at night was even forbidden. Most of the officers were gone and this threw me pretty much on my own resources. I have forgotten to say that Lemuel Bryant, the man who fell at the breech of my gun, at Little York, and whom I afterwards hauled into the Scourge's boat, got off, very early after our arrival at Halifax. He made two that got quite clear, instead of the one I have already mentioned. Bryant's escape was so clever, as to deserve notice.
One day a party of some thirty soldiers was called out for exchange, under a capitulation. Among the names was that of Lemuel Bryant, but the man happened to be dead. Our Bryant had found this out, beforehand, and he rigged himself soldier-fashion, and answered to the name. It is probable he ascertained the fact, by means of some relationship, which brought him in contact with the soldier previously to his death. He met with no difficulty, and I have never seen him since. I have heard he is still living, and that he receives a pension for the hurt he received at York. Well does he deserve it, for no man ever had a narrower chance for his life.
Nothing new, worthy of notice, occurred for several months, until one evening in March, 1815, we heard a great rejoicing in Halifax; and, presently, a turnkey appeared on the walls, and called out that England and America had made peace! We gave three cheers, and passed the night happy enough. We had a bit of a row with the turnkeys about locking us in again, for we were fierce for liberty; but we were forced to submit for another night.
Chapter X.
The following morning, eight of the names that stood first on the prison-roll were called off, to know if the men would consent to work a liberated Swedish brig to New York. I was one of the eight, as was Jack Mallet and Barnet. Wilcox, one of those who had gone with us to Bermuda, had died, and the rest were left on the island. I never fell in with Leonard Lewis, Littlefield, or any of the rest of those chaps, after I quitted the prison. Lewis, I think, could not have lived long; and as for Littlefield, I heard of him, afterwards, as belonging to the Washington 74.
The Swede, whose name was the Venus, was lying at the end of Marchinton's wharf, a place that had been so familiar to me in boyhood. We all went on board, and I was not sorry to find that we were to haul into the stream immediately. I had an extraordinary aversion to Halifax, which my late confinement had not diminished, and had no wish to see a living soul in it. Jack Mallet, however, took on himself the office of paying my sister a visit, and of telling her where I was to be found. This he did contrary to my wishes, and without my knowledge; though I think he meant to do me a favour. The very day we hauled into the stream, a boat came alongside us, and I saw, at a glance, that Harriet was in it. I said a few words to her, requesting her not to come on board, but promising to visit her that evening, which I did.
I stayed several hours with my sister, whom I found living with her husband. She did not mention my father's name to me, at all; and I learned nothing of my other friends, if I ever had any, or of my family. Her husband was a tailor, and they gave me a good outfit of clothes, and treated me with great kindness. It struck me that the unaccountable silence of my father about us children, had brought my sister down in the world a little, but it was no affair of mine; and, as for myself, I cared for no one. After passing the evening with the family, I went on board again, without turning to the right or left to see a single soul more. Even the Frasers were not visited, so strong was my dislike to have anything to do with Halifax.
The Venus took on board several passengers, among whom were three or four officers of the navy. Lieutenant Rapp, and a midshipman Randolph were among them, and there were also several merchant-masters of the party. We sailed two days after I joined the brig, and had a ten or twelve days' passage. The moment the Venus was alongside the wharf, at New York, we all left, and found ourselves free men once more. I had been a prisoner nineteen months, and that was quite enough for me for the remainder of my life.
We United States' men reported ourselves, the next day to Captain Evans, the commandment of the Brooklyn Yard, and, after giving in our names, we were advised to go on board the Epervier, which was then fitting out for the Mediterranean, under the command of Captain Downes. To this we objected, however, as we wanted a cruise ashore, before we took to the water again. This was a lucky decision of ours, though scarcely to be defended as to our views: the Epervier being lost, and all hands perishing, a few months later, on her return passage from the Straits.
Captain Evans then directed us to report ourselves daily, which we did. But the press of business at Washington prevented our cases from being attended to; and being destitute of money, while wages were high, we determined, with Captain Evans' approbation, to make a voyage, each, in the merchant service, and to get our accounts settled on our return. Jack Mallet, Barnet and I, shipped, therefore, in another brig called the Venus, that was bound on a sealing voyage, as was thought, in some part of the world where seals were said to be plenty. We were ignorant of the work, or we might have discovered there was a deception intended, from the outfit of the vessel. She had no salt even, while she had plenty of cross-cut saws, iron dogs, chains, &c. The brig sailed, however, and stood across the Atlantic, as if in good earnest. When near the Cape de Verds, the captain called us aft, and told us he thought the season too far advanced for sealing, and that, if we would consent, he would run down to St. Domingo, and make an arrangement with some one there to cut mahogany on shares, with fustick and lignum-vitæ. The secret was now out; but what could we poor salts do? The work we were asked to do turned out to be extremely laborious; and I suppose we had been deceived on account of the difficulty of getting men, just at that time, for such a voyage. There we were, in the midst of the ocean, and we agreed to the proposal, pretty much as a matter of course.
The brig now bore up, and stood for St. Domingo. She first went in to the city of St. Domingo, where the arrangements were made, and Spaniards were got to help to cut the wood, when we sailed for a bay, of which I have forgotten the name, and anchored near the shore. The trees were sawed down, about ten miles up a river, and floated to its bar, across which they had to be hauled by studding-sail halyards, through the surf; one man hauling two logs at a time, made into a sort of raft. Sharks abounded, and we had to keep a bright look-out, lest they got a leg while we were busy with the logs. I had a narrow escape from two while we lay at St. Domingo. A man fell overboard, and I went after him, succeeding in catching the poor fellow. A boat was dropped astern to pick us up, and, as we hauled the man in, two large sharks came up close alongside. This affair had set us drinking, and I got a good deal of punch aboard. The idea of remaining in the brig was unpleasant to me, and I had thought of quitting her for some days. A small schooner bound to America, and short of hands, lay near us; and I had told the captain I would come and join him that night. Jack Mallet and the rest tried to persuade me not to go, but I had too much punch and grog in me to listen to reason. When all hands aft were asleep, therefore, I let myself down into the water, and swam quite a cable's-length to the schooner. One of the men was looking out for me. He heard me in the water, and stood ready to receive me. As I drew near the schooner, this man threw me a rope, and helped me up the side, but, as soon as I was on the deck, he told me to look behind me. I did so, and there I saw an enormous shark swimming about, a fellow that was sixteen or eighteen feet long. This shark, I was told, had kept company with me as long as I had been in sight from the schooner. I cannot well describe the effect that was produced on me by this discovery. When I entered the water, I was under the influence of liquor, but this escape sobered me in a minute; so much so, indeed, that I insisted on being put in a boat, and sent back to the brig, which was done. I was a little influenced in this, however, by some reluctance that was manifested to keep me on board the schooner. I got on board the Venus without being discovered, and came to a resolution to stick by the craft until the voyage was up.
We filled up with mahogany, and took in a heavy deck-load, in the course of four months, which was a most laborious process. When ready, the brig sailed for New York, We encountered a heavy gale, about a week out, which swept away our deck-load, bulwarks, &c. At this time, the master, supercargo, mate, cook, and three of the crew, were down with the fever; leaving Mallet, Barnet and myself, to take care of the brig. We three brought the vessel up as far as Barnegat, where we procured assistance, and she arrived safe at the quarantine ground.
As soon as we got pratique, Mallet, Barnet and myself, went up to town to look after our affairs, leaving the brig below. The owners gave us thirty dollars each, to begin upon. We ascertained that our landlord had received our wages from government, and held it ready for us, sailor fashion. I also sold my share in the Venus' voyage for one hundred and twenty dollars. This gave me, in all, about five hundred dollars, which money lasted me between five and six weeks! How true is it, that "sailors make their money like horses, and spend it like asses!" I cannot say this prodigal waste of my means afforded me any substantial gratification. I have experienced more real pleasure from one day passed in a way of which my conscience could approve, than from all the loose and thoughtless follies, in which I was then in the habit of indulging when ashore, of a whole life. The manner in which this hard-earned gold was thrown away, may serve to warn some brother tar of the dangers that beset me; and let the reader understand the real wants of so large a body of his fellow-creatures.
On turning out in the morning, I felt an approach to that which seamen call the "horrors," and continued in this state, until I had swallowed several glasses of rum. I had no appetite for breakfast, and life was sustained principally by drink. Half of the time I ate no dinner, and when I did, it was almost drowned in grog. Occasionally I drove out in a coach, or a gig, and generally had something extra to pay for damages. One of these cruises cost me forty dollars, and I shall always think I was given a horse that sailed crab-fashion, on purpose to do me out of the money. At night, I generally went to the play, and felt bound to treat the landlord and his family to tickets and refreshments. We always had a coach to go in, and it was a reasonable night that cost me only ten dollars. At first I was a sort of "king among beggars;" but as the money went, Ned's importance went with it, until, one day, the virtuous landlord intimated to me that it would be well, as I happened to be sober, to overhaul our accounts. He then began to read from his books, ten dollars for this, twenty dollars for that, and thirty for the other, until I was soon tired, and wanted to know how much was left. I had still fifty dollars, even according to his account of the matter; and as that might last a week, with good management, I wanted to hear no more about the items.
All this time, I was separated from my old shipmates, being left comparatively among strangers. Jack Mallet had gone to join his friends in Philadelphia, and Barnet went south, whither I cannot say. I never fell in with either of them again, it being the fate of seamen to encounter the greatest risks and hardships in company, and then to cut adrift from each other, with little ceremony, never to meet again. I was still young, being scarcely two-and-twenty, and might, even then, have hauled in my oars, and come to be an officer and a man.
As I knew I must go to sea, as soon as the accounts were balanced, I began to think a little seriously of my prospects. Dissipation had wearied me, and I wanted to go a voyage of a length that would prevent my falling soon into the same course of folly and vice. I had often bitter thoughts as to my conduct, nor was I entirely free from reflection on the subject of my peculiar situation. I might be said to be without a friend, or relative, in the world. "When my hat was on, my house was thatched." Of my father, I knew nothing; I have since ascertained he must then have been dead. My sister was little to me, and I never expected to see her again. The separation from all my old lakers, too, gave me some trouble, for I never met with one of them after parting from Barnet and Mallet, with the exception of Tom Goldsmith and Jack Reilly. Tom and I fell in with each other, on my return from St. Domingo, in the streets of New York, and had a yarn of two hours, about old times. This was all I ever saw of Tom. He had suffered a good deal with the English, who kept him in Kingston, Upper Canada, until the peace, when they let him go with the rest. As for Reilly, we have been in harbour together, in our old age, and I may speak of him again.
Under the feelings I have mentioned, as soon as the looks of my landlord let me know that there were no more shot in the locker, I shipped in a South Sea whaler, named the Edward, that was expected to be absent between two and three years. She was a small vessel, and carried only three boats. I got a pretty good outfit from my landlord, though most of the articles were second-hand. We parted good friends, however, and I came back to him, and played the same silly game more than once. He was not a bad landlord, as landlords then went, and I make no doubt he took better care of my money than I should have done myself. On the whole, this class of men are not as bad as they seem, though there are precious rascals among them. The respectable sailor landlord is quite as good, in his way, as one could expect, all things considered.
The voyage I made in the Edward was one of very little interest, the ship being exceedingly successful. The usage and living were good, and the whaling must have been good too, or we never should have been back again, as soon as we were. We went round the Horn, and took our first whale between the coast of South America and that of New Holland. I must have been present at the striking of thirty fish, but never met with any accident. I pulled a mid-ship oar, being a new hand at the business, and had little else to do, but keep clear of the line, and look out for my paddle. The voyage is now so common, and the mode of taking whales is so well known, that I shall say little about either. We went off the coast of Japan, as it is called, though a long bit from the land, and we made New Holland, though without touching. The return passage was by the Cape of Good Hope and St. Helena. We let go our anchor but once the whole voyage, and that was at Puna, at the mouth of the Guayaquil river, on the coast of Chili. We lay there a week, but, with this exception, the Edward was actually under her canvass the whole voyage, or eighteen months. We did intend to anchor at St. Helena, but were forbidden on account of Bonaparte, who was then a prisoner on the Island. As we stood in, we were met by a man-of-war brig, that kept close to us until we had sunk the heights, on our passage off again. We were not permitted even to send a boat in, for fresh grub.
I sold my voyage in the Edward for two hundred and fifty dollars, and went back to my landlord, in Water street. Of course, everybody was glad to see me, a sailor's importance in such places being estimated by the length of his voyage. In Wall street they used to call a man "a hundred thousand dollar man," and in Water, "an eighteen months, or a two years' voyage man." As none but whalers, Indiamen, and Statesmen could hold out so long, we were all A. No. 1, for a fortnight or three weeks. The man-of-war's-man is generally most esteemed, his cruise lasting three years; the lucky whaler comes next, and the Canton-man third. The Edward had been a lucky ship, and, insomuch, I had been a lucky fellow. I behaved far better this time, however, than I had done on my return from St. Domingo. I kept sober more, did not spend my money as foolishly or as fast, and did not wait to be kicked out of doors, before I thought of getting some more. When I shipped anew, I actually left a hundred dollars behind me in my landlord's hands; a very extraordinary thing for Jack, and what is equally worthy of notice, I got it all again, on my next return from sea.
My steadiness was owing, in a great measure, to the following circumstances. I fell in with two old acquaintances, who had been in prison with me, of the names of Tibbets and Wilson. This Tibbets was not the man who had been sent to Bermuda with me, but another of the same name. These men had belonged to the Gov. Tompkins privateer, and had received a considerable sum in prize-money, on returning home. They had used their money discreetly, having purchased an English prize-brig, at a low price, and fitted her out. On board the Tompkins, both had been foremost hands, and in prison they had messed in our bay, so that we had been hail-fellows-well-met; on Melville Island. After getting this brig ready, they had been to the West Indies in her, and were now about to sail for Ireland. They wished me to go with them, and gave me so much good advice, on the subject of taking care of my money, that it produced the effect I have just mentioned.
The name of the prize-brig was the Susan, though I forget from what small eastern port she hailed. She was of about two hundred tons burthen, but must have-been old and rotten. Tibbets was master, and Wilson was chief-mate. I shipped as a sort of second-mate, keeping a watch, though I lived forward at my own request. We must have sailed about January, 1818, bound to Belfast. There were fourteen of us, altogether, on board, most of us down-easters. Our run off the coast was with a strong north-west gale, which compelled us to heave-to, the sea being too high for scudding. Finding that the vessel laboured very much, however, and leaked badly, we kept off again, and scudded for the rest of the blow. On the whole, we got out of this difficulty pretty well. We got but two observations the whole passage, but in the afternoon of the twenty-third day out, we made the coast of Ireland, close aboard, in thick weather; the wind directly on shore, blowing a gale. The brig was under close-reefed topsails, running free, at the time, and we found it necessary to haul up. We now discovered the defects of old canvass and old rigging, splitting the fore-topsail, foresail, and fore-topmast-staysail, besides carrying away sheets, &c. We succeeded in hauling up the foresail, however, and I went upon the yard and mended it, after a fashion. It was now nearly night, and it blew in a way "to need two men to hold one man's hair on his head." I cannot say I thought much of our situation, my principal concern being to get below, with some warm, dry clothes on. We saw nothing of the land after the first half-hour, but at midnight we wore ship, and came up on the larboard tack. The brig had hardly got round before the fore-tack went, and the foresail split into ribands. We let the sail blow from the yard. By this time, things began to look very serious, though, for some reason, I felt no great alarm. The case was different with Tibbets and Wilson, who were uneasy about Cape Clear. I had had a bit of a spat with them about waring, believing, myself, that we should have gone clear of the Cape, on the starboard tack. This prevented them saying much to me, and we had little communication with each other that night. To own the truth, I was sorry I had shipped in such a craft. Her owners were too poor to give a sea-going vessel a proper outfit, and they were too near my own level to create respect.
The fore-topsail had been mended as well as the foresail, and was set anew. The sheets went, however, about two in the morning, and the sail flew from the reef-band like a bit of muslin torn by a shop-boy. The brig now had nothing set but a close-reefed main-topsail, and this I expected, every minute, would follow the other canvass. It rained, blew tremendously, and the sea was making constant breaches over us. Most of the men were fagged out, some going below, while others, who remained on deck, did, or could do, nothing. At the same time, it was so dark that we could not see the length of the vessel.
I now went aft to speak to Tibbets, telling him I thought it was all over with us. He had still some hope, as the bay was deep, and he thought light might return before we got to the bottom of it. I was of a different opinion, believing the brig then to be within the influence of the ground-swell, though not absolutely within the breakers. All this time the people were quiet, and there was no drinking. Indeed, I hardly saw any one moving about. It was an hour after the conversation with Tibbets, that I was standing, holding on by the weather-main-clew-garnet, when I got a glimpse of breakers directly under our lee. I sung out, "there's breakers, and everybody must shift for himself." At the next instant, the brig rose on a sea, settled in the trough, and struck. The blow threw me off my feet, though I held on to the clew-garnet. Then I heard the crash of the foremast as it went down to leeward. The brig rolled over on her beam-ends, but righted at the next sea, drove in some distance, and down she came again, with a force that threatened to break her up. I bethought me of the main-mast, and managed to get forward as far as the bitts, in order to be out of its way. It was well I did, as I felt a movement as if her upper works were parting from the bottom. I was near no one, and the last person I saw, or spoke to on board, was Tibbets, who was then standing in the companion-way. This was an hour before the brig struck.
There might have been an interval of half a minute between the time I reached the windlass, and that in which I saw a tremendous white foaming sea rolling down upon the vessel. At this ominous sight, I instinctively seized the bitts for protection. I can remember the rushing of the water down upon me, and have some faint impressions of passing through a mass of rigging, but this is all. When I came to my senses, it was in an Irish mud-cabin, with an old woman and her daughter taking care of me. My head was bandaged, and most of the hair had been cut off in front I was stiff and sore all over me. Fortunately, none of my bones were broken.
The account given me of what had passed, was this. I was found by the old man, who lived in the hut, a fisherman and the husband of my nurse, with some other persons, lying on my face, between two shelves of rock. There was nothing very near me, not even a bit of wood, or a rope. Two lads that belonged to the brig were found not far from me, both alive, though both badly hurt, one of them having had his thigh broken. Of the rest of the fourteen souls on board the Susan, there were no traces. I never heard that even their bodies were found. Tibbets and Wilson had gone with their old prize, and anything but a prize did she prove to me. I lost a good outfit, and, after belonging to her about three weeks, here was I left naked on the shores of Ireland, I am sorry to say, my feelings were those of repining, rather than of gratitude. Of religion I had hardly a notion, and I am afraid that all which had been driven into me in childhood, was already lost. In this state of mind, I naturally felt more of the hardships I had endured, than of the mercy that had been shown me. I look back with shame at the hardness of heart which rendered me insensible to the many mercies I had received, in escaping so often from the perils of my calling.
It was three days after the wreck, before I left my bed. Nothing could have been kinder than the treatment I received from those poor Irish people. Certainly no reward was before them, but that which Heaven gives the merciful; and yet I could not have been more cared for, had I been their own son. They fed me, nursed me, and warmed me, without receiving any other return from me than my thanks. I staid with them three weeks, doing nothing on account of the bruises I had received. The Susan's had been a thorough wreck. Not enough of her could be found, of which to build a launch. Her cargo was as effectually destroyed as her hull, and, to say the truth, it took but little to break her up. As for the two lads, I could not get as far as the cabin in which they had been put. It was two or three miles along the coast, and, having no shoes, I could not walk that distance over the sharp stones. Several messages passed between us, but I never saw a single soul that belonged to the brig, after the last look I had of Tibbets in the companion-way.
A coaster passing near the cabin, and it falling calm, the fisherman went off to her, told my story, and got a passage for me to Liverpool. I now took my leave of these honest people, giving them all I had--my sincere thanks--and went on board the sloop. Here I was well treated, nor did any one expect me to work. We reached Liverpool the second day, and I went and hunted up Molly Hutson, the landlady with whom the crew of the Sterling had lodged, when Captain B---- had her. The old woman helped me to some clothes, received me well, and seemed sorry for my misfortunes. As it would not do to remain idle, however, I shipped on board the Robert Burns, and sailed for New York within the week. I got no wages, but met with excellent treatment, and had a very short winter passage. In less than three months after I left him, I was back again with my old landlord, who gave me my hundred dollars without any difficulty. I had sailed with him in the Sterling, and he always seemed to think of me a little differently from what landlords generally think of Jack.
A good deal was said among my associates, now, about the advantages of making a voyage to the coast of Ireland for the purpose of smuggling tobacco, and I determined to try my hand at one. Of the morality of smuggling I have nothing to say. I would not make such a voyage now, if I know myself; but poor sailors are not taught to make just distinctions in such things, and the merchants must take their share of the shame. I fear there are few merchants, and fewer seamen, man-of-war officers excepted, who will not smuggle.[13]
I laid out most of my hundred dollars, in getting a new outfit, and then shipped in a small pilot-boat-built schooner, called the M'Donough, bound to Ireland, to supply such honest fellows as my old fisherman with good tobacco, cheap. Our cargo was in small bales, being the raw material, intended to be passed by hand. We had seventeen hands before the mast, but carried no armament, pistols, &c., excepted. The schooner sailed like a witch, carrying only two gaff-topsails. We made the land in fourteen days after we left the Hook, our port being Tory Island, off the north-west coast of Ireland. We arrived in the day-time, and showed a signal, which was answered in the course of the day, by a smoke on some rocks. A large boat then came off to us, and we filled her with tobacco the same evening. In the course of the night, we had despatched four or five more boats, loaded with the same cargo; but, as day approached, we hauled our wind, and stood off the land. Next night we went in, again, and met more boats, and the succeeding morning we hauled off, as before. When we saw a boat, we hailed and asked "if they were outward bound." If the answer was satisfactory, we brailed the foresail and permitted the boat to come alongside. In this manner we continued shoving cargo ashore, for quite a week, sometimes falling in with only one boat of a night, and, at others, with three or four; just as it might happen. We had got about two-thirds of the tobacco out, and a boat had just left us, on the morning of the sixth or seventh day, when we saw a man-of-war brig coming round Tory Island, in chase. At this sight, we hauled up close on a wind, it blowing very fresh. As the English never employed any but the fastest cruisers for this station, we had a scratching time of it. The brig sailed very fast, and out-carried us; but our little schooner held on well. For two days and one night we had it, tack and tack, with her. The brig certainly gained on us, our craft carrying a balanced reefed-mainsail, bonnet off the foresail and one reef in, and bonnet off the jib. The flying-jib was inboard. At sunset, on the second night, the brig was so near us, we could see her people, and it was blowing fresher than ever. This was just her play, while ours was in more moderate weather. Our skipper got uneasy, now, and determined to try a trick. It set in dark and rainy; and, as soon as we lost sight of the brig, we tacked, stood on a short distance, lowered everything, and extinguished all our lights. We lay in this situation three hours, when we stuck the craft down again for Tory Island, as straight as we could go. I never knew what became of the brig, which may be chasing us yet, for aught I know for I saw no more of her. Next day we had the signal flying again, and the smoke came up from the same rock, as before. It took us three days longer to get all the tobacco ashore, in consequence of some trouble on the island; but it all went in the end, and went clear, as I was told, one or two boat-loads excepted. The cargo was no sooner out, than we made sail for New York, where we arrived in another short passage. We were absent but little more than two months, and my wages and presents came to near one hundred dollars. I never tried the tobacco trade again.
Chapter XI.
I now stayed ashore two months. I had determined to study navigation, and to try to get off the forecastle, in which wise course I was encouraged by several discreet friends. I had fallen in with a young woman of respectable character and agreeable person, and, to own the truth, was completely in irons with her. I believe a mother is a good deal more on the look-out than a father, in such matters; for I was overhauled by the old woman, and questioned as to my intentions about Sarah, whereas the old man was somewhat more moderate. I confessed my wish to marry her daughter; but the old woman thought I was too wild, which was not Sarah's opinion, I believe. Had we been left to ourselves, we should have got married; though I was really desirous of going out once as an officer, before I took so important a step. I have sometimes suspected that Sarah's parents had a hand in getting me shipped, again, as they were intimate with the captain who now proposed to take me with him as his second-mate. I consented to go, with some reluctance; but, on the whole, thought it was the best thing I could do. My reluctance proceeded from desire to remain with Sarah, when the time came; though the berth was exactly the thing I wanted, whenever I reasoned coolly on the subject.
I shipped, accordingly, in a vessel of the Costers', called the William and Jane, bound to Holland and Canton, as her second-mate. My leave-taking with Sarah was very tender; and I believe we both felt much grieved at the necessity of parting. Nothing occurred on the passage out worth mentioning. I got along with my duty well enough, for I had been broken-in on, board the Sterling, and one or two other vessels. We went to the Texel, but found some difficulty in procuring dollars, which caused us to return to New York, after getting only twenty thousand. We had no other return cargo, with the exception of a little gin. We were absent five months; and I found Sarah as pretty, and as true, as ever. I did not quit the vessel, however; but, finding my knowledge of the lunars too limited, I was obliged to go backward a little--becoming third-mate. We were a month in New York, and it was pretty hard work to keep from eloping with Sarah; but I clawed off the breakers as well as I could. I gave her a silver thimble, and told her to take it to a smith, and get our joint names cut on it, which she did. The consequences of this act will be seen in the end.
We had a little breeze on board the ship before we could get off; the people refusing to sail with a new first-mate that had joined her. It ended by getting another mate, when we went to sea. I believe that no other vessel ever went out with such articles as our crew insisted on. The men stipulated for three quarts of water a day, and the forenoon's watch below. All this was put in black and white, and it gave us some trouble before we got to our destination.
Our passage out was a very long one, lasting two hundred and ten days. When we got into the trades, we stripped one mast after the other, to a girt-line, overhauling everything, and actually getting new gangs of rigging up over the lower-mast-heads. We were a long time about it, but lost little or nothing in distance, as the ship was going before the wind the whole time, with everything packed on the masts that were rigged. Before overhauling the rigging, we fell in with an English ship, called the General Blucher, and kept company with her for quite a fortnight. While the two ships were together, we were chased by a strange brig, that kept in sight three or four days, evidently watching us, and both vessels suspected him of being a pirate. As we had six guns, and thirty-one souls, and the Blucher was, at least, as strong, the two captains thought, by standing by each other, they might beat the fellow off, should he attack us. The brig frequently came near enough to get a good look at us, and then dropped astern. He continued this game several days, until he suddenly hauled his wind, and left us. Our ship would have been a famous prize; having, it was said, no less than two hundred and fifty thousand Spanish dollars on board.
We parted company with the Blucher, in a heavy gale; our ship bearing up for Rio. After getting rid of some of our ballast, however, and changing the cargo of pig-lead, our vessel was easier, and did not go in. Nothing further occurred, worth mentioning, until we got off Van Diemen's Land. Two days after seeing the land, a boy fell from the fore-top-gallant yard, while reeving the studding-sail halyards. I had just turned in, after eating my dinner, having the watch below, when I heard the cry of "a man overboard!" Running on deck, as I was, I jumped into a quarter-boat, followed by four men, and we were immediately lowered down. The ship was rounded-to, and I heard the poor fellow calling out to me by name, to save him. I saw him, astern, very plainly, while on the ship's quarter; but lost sight of him, as soon as the boat was in the water. The sky-light-hood had been thrown overboard, and was floating in the ship's wake. We steered for that; but could neither see nor hear anything more of the poor fellow. We got his hat, and we picked up the hood of the sky-light, but could not find the boy. He had, unquestionably, gone down before we reached the spot where he had been floating, as his hat must have pointed out the place. We got the hat first; and then, seeing nothing of the lad, we pulled back to take in the hood; which was quite large. While employed in taking it in, a squall passed over the boat; which nearly blew it away from us. Being very busy in securing the hood, no one had leisure to look about; but the duty was no sooner done, than one of the men called out, that he could not see the ship! Sure enough, the William and Jane had disappeared! and there we were, left in the middle of the ocean, in a six-oared pinnace, without a morsel of food, and I myself, without hat, shoes, jacket or trowsers. In a word, I had nothing on me but my drawers and a flannel shirt. Fortunately, the captain kept a breaker of fresh water in each boat, and we had a small supply of this great requisite;--enough, perhaps, to last five men two or three days.
All our boats had sails; but those of the pinnace had been spread on the quarter-deck, to dry; and we had nothing but the ash to depend on. At first, we pulled to leeward; but the weather was so thick, we could not see a cable's-length; and our search for the vessel, in that direction, proved useless. At the end of an hour or two, we ceased rowing, and held a consultation. I proposed to pull in the direction of the land; which was pulling to windward. If the ship should search for us, it would certainly be in that quarter; and if we should miss her, altogether, our only chance was in reaching the shore. There, we might find something to eat; of which there was little hope, out on the ocean. The men did not relish the idea of quitting the spot; but, after some talk, they came into my plan.
It remained thick weather all that afternoon, night, and succeeding day, until about noon. We were without a compass, and steered by the direction of the wind and sea. Occasionally it lightened up a little, so as to show us a star or two, or during the day to permit us to see a few miles around the boat; but we got no glimpse of the ship. It blew so heavily that we made no great progress, in my judgment doing very little more than keeping the boat head to sea. Could we have pulled four oars, this might not have been the case, but we took it watch and watch, two men pulling, while two tried to get a little rest, under the shelter of the hood. I steered as long as I could, but was compelled to row part of the time to keep myself warm. In this manner were passed about six-and-twenty of the most unpleasant hours of my life, when some of us thought they heard the report of a distant gun. I did not believe it; but, after listening attentively some ten or fifteen minutes, another report was heard, beyond all dispute, dead to leeward of us!
This signal produced a wonderful effect on us all. The four oars were manned, and away we went before the wind and sea, as fast as we could pull, I steering for the reports as they came heavily up to windward at intervals of about a quarter of an hour. Three or four of these guns were heard, each report sounding nearer than the other, to our great joy, until I got a glimpse of the ship, about two miles distant from us. She was on the starboard tack, close hauled, a proof she was in search of us, with top-gallant-sails set over single-reefed topsails. She was drawing ahead of us fast, however, and had we not seen her as we did, we should have crossed her wake, and been lost without a hope, by running to leeward. We altered our course the instant she was seen; but what could a boat do in such a sea, pulling after a fast ship under such canvass? Perhaps we felt more keen anxiety, after we saw the ship, than we did before, since we beheld all the risk we ran. Never shall I forget the sensations with which I saw her start her main-tack and haul up the sail! The foresail and top-gallant-sail followed, and then the main-yard came round, and laid the topsail aback! Everything seemed to fly on board her, and we knew we were safe. In a few minutes we were alongside. The boat was at the davits, the helm was up, and the old barky squared away for China.
We in the boat were all pretty well fagged out with hunger, toil, and exposure. I was the worst off, having so little clothing in cool weather, and I think another day would have destroyed us all, unless we had taken refuge in the well-known dreadful alternative of seamen. The captain was delighted to see us, as indeed were all hands. They had determined to turn to windward, on short tacks, until they made the land, the best thing that could have been done, and the course that actually saved us.
When we got into the latitude of Port Jackson, the crew was put on two quarts of water a man, three quarts having been stipulated for in the articles. This produced a mutiny, the men refusing duty. This was awkward enough, in that distant sea. The captain took advantage of the men's going below, however, to secure the scuttle and keep them there. He then mustered us, who lived aft, six men and three boys, and laid the question before us, whether we would take the ship into Canton, or go into Port Jackson, and get some water. He admitted we were about seventy-five days run from Cauton, but he himself leaned to the plan of continuing on our course. We saw all the difficulties before us, and told him of them.
There were twenty men below, and to carry them eight or ten thousand miles in that situation, would have been troublesome, to say the least, and might have caused the death of some among them. We were armed, and had no apprehensions of the people, but we did not like to work a ship of five hundred tons with so few hands, one-third of whom were boys, so great a distance. The crew, moreover, had a good deal of right on their side, the articles stipulating that they should have the water, and this water was to be had a short distance to windward.
The captain yielded to our reasoning, and we beat up to Port Jackson, where we arrived in three or four days. The people were then sent to prison, as mutineers, and we watered the ship. We were in port a fortnight, thus occupied. All this time the men were in gaol. No men were to be had, and then arose the question about trusting the old crew. There was no choice, and, the ship being ready to sail, we received the people on board again, and turned them all to duty. We had no further trouble with them, however, the fellows behaving perfectly well, as men commonly will, who have been once put down. No mutiny is dangerous when the officers are apprized of its existence, and are fairly ready to meet it. The king's name is a tower of strength.
We arrived at Canton in due time, and found our cargo ready for us. We took it in, and sailed again, for the Texel, in three weeks. Our passage to Europe was two hundred and eleven days, but we met with no accident. At the Texel I found two letters from New York, one being from Sarah, and the other from a female friend. Sarah was married to the very silversmith who had engraven our names on the thimble! This man saw her for the first time, when she carried that miserable thimble to him, fell in love with her, and, being in good circumstances, her friends prevailed on her to have him. Her letter to me admitted her error, and confessed her unhappiness; but there was no remedy. I did not like the idea of returning to New York, under the circumstances, and resolved to quit the ship. I got my discharge, therefore, from the William and Jane, and left her, never seeing the vessel afterwards.
There was a small Baltimore ship, called the Wabash, at the Texel, getting ready for Canton, and I entered on board her, as a foremast Jack, again. My plan was to quit her in China, and to remain beyond the Capes for ever. The disappointment in my matrimonial plans had soured me, and I wanted to get as far from America as I could. This was the turning point of my life, and was to settle my position in my calling. I was now twenty-seven, and when a man gets stern-way on him, at that age, he must sail a good craft ever to work his way into his proper berth again.
The Wabash had a good passage out, without any unusual occurrence. On her arrival at Canton, I told the captain my views, and he allowed me to go. I was now adrift in the Imperial Empire, with a couple of hundred dollars in my pocket, and a chest full of good clothes. So far all was well, and I began to look about me for a berth. We had found an English country ship lying at Whampao, smuggling opium, and I got on board of her, as third-mate, a few days after I quitted the Wabash. This was the first and only time I ever sailed under the English flag, for I do not call my other passages in English vessels, sailing under the flag, though it was waving over my head. My new ship was the Hope, of Calcutta, commanded by Captain Kid, or Kyd, I forget which. The vessel was built of teak, and had been a frigate in the Portuguese service. She was so old no one knew exactly when she was built, but sailed like a witch. Her crew consisted principally of Lascars, with a few Europeans and negroes, as is usual in those craft. My wages did not amount to much in dollars, but everything was so cheap, they counted up in the long run. I had perquisites, too, which amounted to something handsome. They kept a very good table.
The Hope had a good deal of opium, when I joined her, and it was all to be smuggled before we sailed. As this trade has made a great deal of noise, latterly, I will relate the manner in which we disposed of the drug. Of the morality of this species of commerce, I have no more to say in its defence, than I had of the tobacco voyage, unless it be to aver that were I compelled, now, to embark in one of the two, it should be to give the countrymen of my honest fisherman cheap tobacco, in preference to making the Chinese drunk on opium.
Our opium was packed in wooden boxes of forty cylinders, weighing about ten pounds each cylinder. Of course each box weighed about four hundred pounds. The main cargo was cotton, and salt-petre, and ebony; but there were four hundred boxes of this opium.
The sales of the article were made by the captain, up at the factory. They seldom exceeded six or eight boxes at a time, and were oftener two or three. The purchaser then brought, or sent, an order on board the ship, for the delivery of the opium. He also provided bags. The custom-house officers did not remain in the ship, as in other countries, but were on board a large armed boat, hanging astern. These crafts are called Hoppoo boats. This arrangement left us tolerably free to do as we pleased, on board. If an officer happened to come on board, however, we had early notice of it, of course. As third-mate, it was my duty to see the boxes taken out of the hold, and the opium delivered. The box was opened, and the cylinders counted off, and stowed in the bags, which were of sizes convenient to handle. All this was done on the gun-deck, the purchaser receiving possession of his opium, on board us. It was his loss, if anything failed afterwards.
As soon as the buyer had his opium in the bags, he placed the latter near two or three open ports, amidships, and hung out a signal to the shore. This signal was soon answered, and then it was look out for the smuggling boats! These smuggling boats are long, swift, craft, that have double-banked paddles, frequently to the number of sixty men. They are armed, and are swift as arrows. When all is ready, they appear suddenly on the water, and dash alongside of the vessel for which they are bound, and find the labourers of the purchaser standing at the ports, with the bags of cylinders ready. These bags are thrown into the boat, the purchaser and his men tumble after them, and away she paddles, like a racer. The whole operation occupies but a minute or two.
As soon as the Hoppoo boat sees what is going on, it begins to blow conches. This gives the alarm, and then follows a chase from an armed custom-house boat, of which there are many constantly plying about. It always appeared to me that the custom-house people were either afraid of the smugglers, or that they were paid for not doing their duty. I never saw any fight, or seizure, though I am told such sometimes happen. I suppose it is in China, as it is in other parts of the world; that men occasionally do their whole duty, but that they oftener do not. If the connivance of custom-house officers will justify smuggling in China, it will justify smuggling in London, and possibly in New York.
We not only smuggled cargo out, but we smuggled cargo in. The favourite prohibited article was a species of metal, that came in plates, like tin, or copper, of which we took in large quantities. It was brought to us by the smuggling-boats, and thrown on board, very much as the opium was taken out, and we stowed it away in the hold. All this was done in the day-time, but I never heard of any one's following the article into the ship. Once there, it appeared to be considered safe. Then we got sycee silver, which was prohibited for exportation. All came on board in the same manner. For every box of opium sold, the mate got a china dollar as a perquisite. Of course my share on four hundred boxes came to one hundred and thirty-three of these dollars, or about one hundred and sixteen of our own. I am ashamed to say there was a great deal of cheating all round, each party evidently regarding the other as rogues, and, instead of "doing as they would be done by," doing as they thought they were done by.
The Hope sailed as soon as the opium was sold, about a month, and had a quick passage to Calcutta. I now began to pick up a little Bengalee, and, before I left the trade, could work a ship very well in the language. The Lascars were more like monkeys than men aloft, though they wanted strength. A topsail, that six of our common men would furl, would employ twenty of them. This was partly from habit, perhaps, though they actually want physical force. They eat little besides rice, and are small in frame. We had a curious mode of punishing them, when slack, aloft. Our standing rigging was of grass, and wiry enough to cut even hands that were used to it. The ratlines were not seized to the forward and after shrouds, by means of eyes, as is done in our vessels, but were made fast by a round turn, and stopping back the ends. We used to take down all the ratlines, and make the darkies go up without them. In doing this, they took the rigging between the great and second toe, and walked up, instead of shinning it, like Christians. This soon gave them sore toes, and they would beg hard to have the ratlines replaced. On the whole, they were easily managed, and were respectful and obedient. We had near a hundred of these fellows in the Hope, and kept them at work by means of a boatswain and four mates, all countrymen of their own. In addition, we had about thirty more souls, including the Europeans--Christians, as we were called!
At Calcutta we loaded with cotton, and returned to Canton, having another short passage. We had no opium in the ship, this time, it being out of season; but we smuggled cargo in, as before. We lay at Whampao a few weeks, and returned to Calcutta. By this time the Hope was dying of old age, and Captain Kyd began to think, if he did not bury her, she might bury him. Her beams actually dropped, as we removed the cotton at Canton, though she still remained tight. But it would have been dangerous to encounter heavy weather in her.
A new ship, called the Hopping Castle, had been built by Captain Kyd's father-in-law, expressly for him. She was a stout large vessel, and promised to sail well. The officers wore all transferred to her; but most of the old Lascars refused to ship, on account of a quarrel with the boatswain. This compelled us to ship a new set of these men, most of whom were strangers to us.
By a law of Calcutta, if anything happens to a vessel before she gets to sea, the people retain the two months' advance it is customary to give them. This rule brought us into difficulty. The Hopping Castle cleared for Bombay, with a light cargo. We had dropped down the river, discharged the pilot, and made sail on our course, when a fire suddenly broke up out of the fore-hatch. A quantity of grass junk, and two or three cables of the same material, were in that part of the ship, and they all burnt like tinder. I went with the other officers and threw overboard the powder, but it was useless to attempt extinguishing the flames. Luckily, there were two pilot brigs still near us, and they came alongside and received all hands. The Hopping Castle burnt to the water's edge, and we saw her wreck go down. This was a short career for so fine a ship, and it gave us all great pain; all but the rascals of Lascars. I lost everything I had in the world in her, but a few clothes I saved in a small trunk. I had little or no money, Calcutta being no place for economy. In a country in which it is a distinction to be a white man, and called a Christian, one must maintain his dignity by a little extravagance.
Captain Kyd felt satisfied that the Lascars had set his ship on fire, and he had us all landed on Tiger Island. Here the serang, or boatswain, took the matter in hand, and attempted to find out the facts. I was present at the proceeding, and witnessed it all. It was so remarkable as to deserve being mentioned. The men were drawn up in rings, of twenty or thirty each, and the boatswain stood in the centre. He then put a little white powder into each man's hand, and ordered him to spit in it. The idea was that the innocent men would spit without any difficulty, while the mouths of the guilty would become too dry and husky to allow them to comply. At any rate, the serang picked out ten men as guilty, and they were sent to Calcutta to be tried. I was told, afterwards, that all these ten men admitted their guilt, criminated two more, and that the whole twelve were subsequently hanged in chains, near Castle William. Of the legal trial and execution I know nothing, unless by report; but the trial by spittle, I saw with my own eyes; and it was evident the Lascars looked upon it as a very serious matter. I never saw criminals in court betray more uneasiness, than these fellows, while the serang was busy with them.
I was now out of employment. Captain Kyd wished me to go on an indigo plantation, offering me high wages. I never drank at sea, and had behaved in a way to gain his confidence, I believe, so that he urged me a good deal to accept his offers. I would not consent, however, being afraid of death. There was a Philadelphia ship, called the Benjamin Rush, at Calcutta, and I determined to join her. By this time, I felt less on the subject of my disappointment, and had a desire to see home, again. I shipped, accordingly, in the vessel mentioned, as a foremast hand. We sailed soon after, and had a pleasant passage to the Capes of the Delaware, which I now entered, again, for the first time since I had done so on my return from my original voyage on the Sterling.
As soon as paid off, I proceeded to New York. I was short of cash; and, my old landlord being dead, I had to look about me for a new ship. This time, I went in a brig, called the Boxer, a clipper, belonging to John Jacob Astor, bound to Canton. This proved to be a pleasant and successful voyage, so far as the vessel was concerned, at least; the brig being back at New York, again, eight months after we sailed. I went in her before the mast.
My money was soon gone; and I was obliged to ship again. I now went as second-mate, in the Trio; an old English prize-ship, belonging to David Dunham. We were bound to Batavia, and sailed in January. After being a short time at sea, we found all our water gone, with the exception of one cask. The remainder had been lost by the bursting of the hoops, in consequence of the water's having frozen. We went on a short allowance; and suffered a good deal by the privation. Our supercargo, a young gentleman of the name of Croes, came near dying. We went on, however, intending to go into one of the Cape de Verdes. We got up our casks, and repaired them, in the meanwhile. Off the Island of Fuego, we hove to, and found we could get no water. We got a few goats, and a little fruit; but were compelled to proceed. Luckily, it came on to rain very hard, and we stopped all the scuppers, filling every cask we had, in this easy manner. We began about eight at night, and were through before morning. Capital water it proved; and it lasted us to Batavia. There, indeed, it would even have brought a premium; being so much better than anything to be had in that port. It changed; but sweetened itself very soon.
We first went into Batavia, and entered the ship; after which, we sailed for a roadstead, called Terragall, to take in rice. The vessel was in ballast, and had brought money to make her purchases with. We got our cargo off in boats, and sailed for Batavia, to clear; all within a few weeks. The second night out, the ship struck, in fair weather, and a moderate sea, on a mud-bank; and brought up all standing. We first endeavoured to force the vessel over the bank; but this did not succeed; and, the tide leaving her, the ship fell over on her bilge; bringing her gunwales under water. Luckily, she lay quiet; though a good deal strained. The captain now took a boat, and four men, and pulled ashore, to get prows, to lighten the vessel. We had but eight men before the mast, and six aft. This, of course, left only nine souls on board. That night nothing occurred; but, in the morning early, two piratical prows approached, and showed a disposition to board us. Mr. Croes was the person who saved the ship. He stuck up handspikes, and other objects, about deck; putting hats and caps on them, so as to make us appear very strong-handed. At the same time, we got a couple of sixes to bear on the prows; and succeeded in keeping them at a safe distance. They hovered about until sunset, when they left us; pulling ashore. Just as they were quitting us, twenty-seven boats hove in sight; and we made a signal to them, which was not answered. We set them down as enemies, too; but, as they came nearer, we perceived our own boat among them, and felt certain it was the captain.
We discharged everything betwixt decks into the boats, that night, and got the ship afloat before morning. We now hove clear of the bank, restowed the cargo, and made sail for Batavia. The ship leaked badly, and kept us hard at the pumps. As there were no means for repairing the vessel where we were, it was resolved to take in extra hands, ship two box-pumps, and carry the vessel to the Isle of France, in order to repair her. I did not like the prospect of such a passage, and confess I played "old soldier" to get rid of it. I contrived to get, on a sick ticket, into the hospital, and the ship sailed without me. At the Isle of France, the Trio was condemned; her hulk being, in truth, much worse than my own, docked though I was.
Chapter XII.
As soon as the Trio was off, I got well. Little did I then think of the great risk I ran in going ashore; for it was almost certain death for an European to land, for any length of time, at that season. Still less did I, or could I, anticipate what was to happen to myself, in this very hospital, a few years later; or how long I was to be one of its truly suffering, and, I hope, repentant inmates. The consul was frank enough to tell me that I had been shamming Abraham; and I so far imitated his sincerity as distinctly to state, it was quite true. I thought the old Trio ought to have been left on the bank, where Providence had placed her; but, it being the pleasure of her captain and the supercargo to take her bones to the Isle of France for burial, I did not choose to go so far, weeping through the pumps, to attend her funeral.
As the consul held my wages, and refused to give me any money, I was compelled to get on board some vessel as soon as I could. Batavia was not a place for an American constitution, and I was glad to be off. I shipped, before the mast, in the Clyde, of Salem, a good little ship, with good living and good treatment. We sailed immediately, but not soon enough to escape the Batavia fever. Two of the crew died, about a week out, and were buried in the Straits of Banca. The day we lost sight of Java Head, it came on to blow fresh, and we had to take in the jib, and double-reef the topsails. A man of the name of Day went down on the bowsprit shrouds to clear the jib-sheets, when the ship made a heavy pitch, and washed him away. The second mate and myself got into the boat, and were lowered as soon as the ship was rounded-to. There was a very heavy sea on, but we succeeded in finding the poor fellow, who was swimming with great apparent strength. His face was towards the boat, and, as we came near, I rose, and threw the blade of my oar towards him, calling out to him to be of good cheer. At this instant, Day seemed to spring nearly his length out of water, and immediately sunk. What caused this extraordinary effort, and sudden failure, was never known. I have sometimes thought a shark must have struck him, though I saw neither blood nor fish. The man was hopelessly lost, and we returned to the ship, feeling as seamen always feel on such occasions.
A few days later, another man died of the fever. This left but five of us in the forecastle, with the ship a long way to the eastward of the Cape of Good Hope. Before we got up with the Cape, another foremast hand went crazy, and, instead of helping us, became a cause of much trouble for the rest of the passage. In the end, he died, mad. We had now only three men in a watch, the officers included; and of course, it was trick and trick at the helm. Notwithstanding all this, we did very well, having a good run, until we got on the coast, which we reached in the month of January. A north-wester drove us off, and we had a pretty tough week of it, but brought the ship up to the Hook, at the end of that time, and anchored her safely in the East River. The Clyde must have been a ship of about three hundred tons, and, including every one on board, nine of us sailed her from the eastward of the Cape to her port, without any serious difficulty.
I did not stay long ashore, for the money went like smoke, but shipped in a brig called the Margaret, bound to Belfast. This vessel struck in the Irish channel, but she was backed off with little difficulty, and got safe into her port. The return passage was pleasant, and without any accident.
Such a voyage left little to spend, and I was soon on the look-out for a fresh berth. I shipped this time as mate, in a brig called the William Henry, bound on a smuggling voyage to the coast of Spain. We took in tobacco, segars, &c. &c., and the brig dropped down to Staten Island. Here I quarrelled with the captain about some cotton wick, and I threw up my situation. I knew there were more ships than parish churches, and felt no concern about finding a place in one, up at town. The balance of my advance was paid back, and I left the smuggling trade, like an honest man. I only wish this change of purpose had proceeded from a better motive.
My next windfall was Jack's berth on board a beautiful little schooner called the Ida, that was to sail for Curaçoa, in the hope of being purchased by the governor of the island or a yacht. I expected to find my way to the Spanish main, after the craft was sold. We got out without any accident, going into port of a Sunday morning. The same morning, an English frigate and a sloop-of-war came in and anchored. That afternoon these vessels commenced giving liberty to their men. We were alongside of a wharf, and, in the afternoon, our crew took a drift in some public gardens in the suburbs of the town. Here an incident occurred that is sufficiently singular to be mentioned.
I was by myself in the garden, ruminating on the past, and, I suppose, looking melancholy and in the market, when I perceived an English man-of-war's-man eyeing me pretty closely. After a while, he came up, and fell into discourse with me. Something that fell from him made me distrust him from the first, and I acted with great caution. After sounding me for some time, he inquired if I had any berth. I told him, no. He then went on, little by little, until he got such answers as gave him confidence, when he let me into the secret of his real object. He said he belonged to the frigate, and had liberty until next morning--that he and four of his shipmates who were ashore, had determined to get possession of the pretty little Yankee schooner that was lying alongside of the Telegraph, at the wharf, and carry her down to Laguayra. All this was to be done that night, and he wished me to join the party. By what fell from this man, I made no doubt his design was to turn pirate, after he had sold the flour then in the Ida. I encouraged him to so on, and we drank together, until he let me into his whole plan. The scheme was to come on board the schooner, after the crew had turned in, to fasten all hands below, set the foresail and jib, and run out with the land-breeze; a thing that was feasible enough, considering there is never any watch kept in merchant-vessels that lie at wharves.
After a long talk, I consented to join the enterprise, and agreed to be, at nine o'clock, on board the Telegraph, a Philadelphia ship, outside of which our schooner lay. This vessel had a crew of blacks, and, as most of them were then ashore, it was supposed many would not return to her that night. My conspirator observed--"the Yankees that belong to the schooner are up yonder in the garden, and will be half drunk, so they will all be sound asleep, and can give us little trouble." I remember he professed to have no intention of hurting any of us, but merely to run away with us, and sell the craft from under us. We parted with a clear understanding of the manner in which everything was to be done.
I know no other reason why this man chose to select me for his companion in such an adventure, than the circumstance that I happened to be alone, and perhaps I may have looked a little under the weather. He was no sooner gone, however, than I managed to get near my shipmates, and to call them out of the garden, one by one. As we went away, I told them all that had happened, and we laid our counter-plot. When we reached the Telegraph, it was near night, and finding only two of the blacks on board her, we let them into the secret, and they joined us, heart and hand. We got something to drink, as a matter of course, and tried to pass the time as well as we could, until the hour for springing the mine should arrive.
Pretty punctually to the hour, we heard footsteps on the quay, and then a gang of men stopped alongside of the ship. We stowed ourselves under the bulwarks, and presently the gentlemen came on board, one by one. The negroes were too impatient, however, springing out upon their prey a little too soon. We secured three of the rascals, but two escaped us, by jumping down upon the quay and running. Considering we were all captains, this was doing pretty well.
Our three chaps were Englishmen, and I make no doubt belonged to the frigate, as stated. As soon as they were fairly pinned, and they understood there was no officer among us, they began to beg. They said their lives would be forfeited if we gave them up, and they entreated us to let them go. We kept them about half an hour, and finally yielded to their solicitations, giving them their liberty again. They were very thankful for their escape, especially as I told them what had passed between myself and the man in the garden. This fellow was one of the two that escaped, and had the appearance of a man who might very well become a leader among pirates.
The next day the two men-of-war went to sea, and I make no doubt carried off the intended pirates in them. As for us seamen, we never told our own officers anything about the affair, for I was not quite satisfied with myself, after letting the scoundrels go. One scarcely knows what to do in such a case, as one does not like to be the means of getting a fellow-creature hanged, or of letting a rogue escape. A pirate, of all scoundrels, deserves no mercy, and yet Jack does not relish the idea of being a sort of Jack Ketch, neither. If the thing were to be done over again, I think I should hold on to my prisoners.
We discharged our cargo of flour, and failing in the attempt to sell the schooner, we took in dye-wood, and returned to New York. I now made a serious attempt to alter my mode of living, and to try to get up a few rounds of the great ladder of life. Hitherto, I had felt a singular indifference whether I went to sea as an officer, or as a foremast Jack, with the exception of the time I had a marriage with Sarah in view. But I was now drawing near to thirty, and if anything was to be done, it must be done at once. Looking about me, I found a brig called the Hippomenes, bound to Gibraltar, and back. I shipped before the mast, but kept a reckoning, and did all I could to qualify myself to become an officer. We had a winter passage out, but a pleasant one home. Nothing worthy of being recorded, however, occurred. I still continued to be tolerably correct, and after a short stay on shore, I shipped in the Belle Savage, commanded by one of the liberated Halifax prisoners, who had come home in the Swede, at the time of my own return. This person agreed to take me as chief mate, and I shipped accordingly. The Belle Savage was a regular Curacoa trader, and we sailed ten or twelve days after the Hippomenes got in. Our passages both ways were pleasant and safe, and I stuck by the craft, endeavouring to be less thoughtless and careless about myself. I cannot say, however, I had any very serious plans for making provision for old age, my maxim being to live as I went along.
Our second passage out to Curacoa, in the Belle Savage, was pleasant, and brought about nothing worthy of being mentioned. At Curacoa we took in mahogany, and in so doing a particularly large log got away from us, and slid, end on, against the side of the vessel. We saw no consequences at the time, and went on to fill up, with different articles, principally dye-woods, coffee, cocoa, &c. We got some passengers, among whom was a Jew merchant, who had a considerable amount of money on board. When ready, we sailed, being thirty souls in all, crew and passengers included.
The Belle Savage had cleared the islands, and was standing on her course, one day, with a fair wind and a five or six knot breeze, under a fore-top-mast studding-sail, everything looking bright and prosperous. The brig must have been about a day's run to the southward of Bermuda. It was my watch below, but having just breakfasted, I was on deck, and looking about me carelessly, I was struck with the appearance of the vessel's being deeper than common. I had a little conversation about it, with a man in the forechains, who thought the same thing. This man leaned over, in order to get a better look, when he called out that he could see that we had started a butt! I went over, immediately, and got a look at this serious injury. A butt had started, sure enough, just under the chains, but so low down as to be quite out of our reach. The plank had started quite an inch, and it was loosened as much as two feet, forward and aft. We sounded the pumps, as soon as possible, and found the brig was half full of water!
All hands were now called to get both the boats afloat, and there was certainly no time to be lost. The water rose over the cabin-floor while we were doing it. We did not stand to get up tackles, but cut away the rail and launched the long-boat by hand. We got the passengers, men, women, children, and servants into her, as fast as possible, and followed ourselves. Fortunately, there had been a brig in company for some time, and she was now less than two leagues ahead of us, outsailing the Belle Savage a little. We had hoisted our ensign, union down, as a signal of distress, and well knew she must see that our craft had sunk, after it happened, if she did not observe our ensign. She perceived the signal, however, and could not fail to notice the manner in which the brig was all adrift, as soon as we deserted the helm. The strange brig had hauled up for us even before we got out the launch. This rendered any supply of food or water unnecessary, and we were soon ready to shove off. I was in the small boat, with three men. We pulled off a little distance, and lay looking at our sinking craft with saddened eyes. Even the gold, that precious dust which lures so many souls to eternal perdition, was abandoned in the hurry to save the remnants of lives to be passed on earth. The Belle Savage settled quite slowly into the ocean, one sail disappearing after another, her main-royal being the last thing that went out of sight, looking like the lug of a man-of-war's boat on the water. It is a solemn thing to see a craft thus swallowed up in the great vortex of the ocean.
The brig in sight proved to be the Mary, of New York, from St. Thomas, bound home. She received us kindly, and six days later landed us all at no great distance from Fulton Market. When my foot touched the wharf, my whole estate was under my hat, and my pockets were as empty as a vessel with a swept hold. On the wharf, itself, I saw a man who had been second-mate of the Tontine, the little ship in which I had sailed when I first ran from the Sterling. He was now master of a brig called the Mechanic, that was loading near by, for Trinidad de Cuba. He heard my story, and shipped me on the spot, at nine dollars a month, as a forward hand. I began to think I was born to bad luck, and being almost naked, was in nowise particular what became of me. I had not the means of getting a mate's outfit, though I might possibly have got credit; but at no period of my life did I run in debt. Here, then, my craft got stern-way on her again, and I had a long bit of rough water to go over.
The Mechanic sailed four or five days after the Mary arrived, and I travelled the old road over again. Nothing happened until we got to the southward of Cuba. But my bad luck had thrown me into the West India trade at the very moment when piracy was coming to its height in those seas, though I never thought on the subject at all. Off the Isle of Pines, one morning, we made a schooner and a sloop, in-shore of us, and both bore up in chase. We knew them to be pirates, and crowded sail dead before the wind to get clear. The captain determined, if necessary, to run down as far as Jamaica, where he expected to fall in with some of the English cruisers. The schooner sailed very fast, and was for coming up with us, but they made the mistake of setting a flying-topsail on board her, and from that moment we dropped her. It was thought in our brig, that the little craft buried too much, with such a pressure aloft. The chase lasted all day, a Sunday, and a part of the night; but the following morning nothing was to be seen of either of our pursuers. Our captain, whose name was Ray, thought he knew who commanded the schooner, a man who had been his enemy, and it was believed the pirates knew our brig, as she was a regular trader to Trinidad. This made our captain more ticklish, and was the reason he was off so soon.
When we found the coast clear, we hauled up, again, and made our port without further molestation. The chase was so common a thing, that little was said about the affair. We discharged, took in a new cargo, and sailed for home in due time. Care was had in sailing at an early hour, and we sent a boat out to look if the coast were clear, before we put to sea. We met with no interruption, however, reaching New York in due time.
Captain Ray was desirous I should stick by the brig; but, for some reason I cannot explain, I felt averse to returning to Trinidad. I liked the vessel well enough, was fond of the captain, and thought little of the pirates; and yet I felt an unaccountable reluctance to re-shipping in the craft. It was well I had this feeling, for, I have since heard, this very schooner got the brig the next passage out, murdered all hands, and burnt the vessel, in sight of the port! I set this escape down, as one of the many unmerited favours I have received from Providence.
My next berth was that of second-mate on board a new ship, in the Charleston trade, called the Franklin. I made the voyage, and, for a novelty, did not run in the southern port, which was a rare circumstance in that place.
I got but twelve dollars, as dickey, in the Franklin, and left her to get twenty, with the same berth, on board a ship called the Foster, commanded by the same master as had commanded the Jane, in my former voyage to Ireland. The Foster was bound to Belfast, which port we reached without any accident. We took in salt, and a few boxes of linens, for Norfolk; arrived safe, discharged, and went up the James river to City Point, after a cargo of tobacco. Thence we sailed for Rotterdam. The ship brought back a quantity of gin to New York, and this gin caused me some trouble. We had a tremendous passage home--one of the worst I ever experienced at sea. The ship's rudder got loose, and was secured with difficulty. We had to reef all three of our top-masts, also, to save the spars; after which we could only carry double-reefed topsails. It was in the dead of winter, and the winds hung to the westward for a long time. The cook, a surly negro, was slack in duty, and refused to make scous for us, though there were plenty of potatoes on board. All the people but five were off duty, and it came hard on those who kept watch. We determined, at length, to bring the black to his senses, and I had him seized to the windlass. Everybody but the captain took three clips at him; the fellow being regularly cobbed, according to sea usage. This was lawful punishment for a cook.
We got our scous after this, but the negro logged the whole transaction, as one may suppose. He was particularly set against me, as I had been ringleader in the cobbing. The weather continued bad, the watches were much fagged, and the ship gave no grog. At length I could stand it no longer, or thought I could not; and I led down betwixt decks, tapped a cask of gin, introduced the stem of a clean pipe and took a nip at the bowl. All my watch smoked this pipe pretty regularly, first at one cask and then at another, until we got into port. The larboard watch did the same, and I do think the strong liquor helped us along that time. As bad luck would have it, the cook's wood was stowed among the casks, and, one morning, just as the last of us had knocked off smoking, we saw the wool of this gentleman heaving in sight, through the hatch by which we went down. Still, nothing was said until we came to be paid off, when the darky came out with his yarn. I owned it all, and insisted we never could have brought the ship in, unless we had got the gin. I do believe both captain and owner were sorry we had been complained of, but they could not overlook the matter. I was mulcted five-and-twenty dollars, and left the ship. I know I did wrong, and I know that the owners did what was right; but I cannot help thinking, bad as gin is on a long pull, that this did us good. I was not driven from the ship; on the contrary, both master and Owners wished me to remain; but I felt a little savage, and quitted their employment.