LETTER XXIV.
It proves that we might have lengthened our marooning excursion, without the slightest interruption from the fear of being called away to St. Domingo. Scarcely any vessels arrived in the bay during our absence, and very few have come in since our return. Our solicitude, concerning the commander in chief and the convoy, is still undiminished. One ship left them in one latitude, another in another, one parted from the fleet in the bay of Biscay, another off Portugal, a third off the coast of Africa, and others in different latitudes. Some suppose the convoy to have put into Lisbon, some say Gibraltar, and others various other ports. All is still enveloped in a cloud of uncertainty.
One vessel has at length reached Barbadoes, which sailed subsequent to ourselves. It is a Glasgow trader, and you will judge what multitudes thronged on board, as soon as she entered the harbour, to ask for news. She brings papers of January, and we are much gratified to learn that the admiral had written to England, so late as the fourth of that month, saying that he had, then, with him one hundred and eleven sail!
At this very interesting period of suspense, if a strange vessel enter the bay, the whole harbour becomes a crowded and moving scene, in consequence of almost every ship sending off a boat to seek tidings of the fleet. You, who can feel for our solicitude, will compassionate our disappointment, when we happen to find that she is not direct from England. This frequently occurs, and we return loaded with chagrin. Of two ships which have been this day thronged with eager visitors, one proved to be from Newfoundland with fish, and the other from the coast of Africa with slaves; consequently neither of them knew so much of England or the convoy as ourselves.
I am sorry to tell you that information of an unpleasant nature has reached us from Grenada, in consequence of which it has been deemed expedient to embark a body of troops, on board the Expedition armée en flute, and other smaller vessels, to send to the relief of that island, without waiting for the arrival of the commander in chief.
Could it have been known, that the remainder of the convoy would have been detained so many weeks behind us, the troops which have assembled at Barbadoes might have been beneficially employed in restoring tranquillity to our disordered islands, and, perhaps, have been still in time to have joined in the great, and more combined object of the campaign. But it is not given to humanity to foresee events, and the sad disasters of this formidable armament only tend to prove the extreme uncertainty which must ever attend our expeditions. The plan may be concerted with wisdom; all the necessaries amply provided; and the force, on sailing, fully adequate to the intended purposes: yet, after all, the lamentable fickleness of the elements will often frustrate the best and wisest arrangements.
We have an encampment of negroes formed near Bridge-town, upon a spot called Constitution-hill. They are a fine body of men, who have been enlisted from the revolted French islands, or brought away on the evacuation of them by our troops. They are active and expert, and are training into a formidable corps to assist in our intended attacks. About sixteen hundred of them bear arms; besides whom there are twelve hundred to be employed as pioneers. They have all the vivacity and levity of the French character; and it, occasionally, affords us amusement to observe the Barbadoes negroes looking at them with evident amazement, and seemingly wondering at their volatility and alertness. John Bull differs not more widely from a Parisian petit-maître than many of the Barbadoes slaves from the sable fops of this sprightly corps.
It is now the dry season of the year at Barbadoes, and if you have imbibed the same idea of a tropical climate which I remember to have once felt, you will learn, with surprise, that very few days have passed, since we have been here, without a refreshing shower of rain. The heat is far more supportable than we had expected. The thermometer, at noon, is commonly about 80, and very seldom exceeds 82: we have not yet seen it above 84.
It happens, fortunately, that some of the ships, laden with the temporary hospitals, made in England, have reached Carlisle Bay, and, likewise, a few of the men belonging to the corps of artificers; who, together with some creole and negro carpenters, are actively employed in fitting and putting up these frames with all possible speed: but much of hurry and difficulty might have been avoided if the hospitals, the barracks, and other buildings had been sent out in time to have been put up before any of the troops, or any division of the moving part of the expedition came in.
The confusion that must necessarily arise from the arrival of the soldiers, of the buildings requiring to be erected, and of all the various departments, at the same moment, must be self-evident; and it will readily appear, from the hurried and numerous claims each department will have upon the artificers, that many of the requisites attaching to the hospitals may not be completed, before the more urgent necessity for them may have ceased. Present experience may convey an useful lesson.
From the great exertions now making we hope very soon to have hospital room at St. Anne’s Hill, for, at least, a thousand sick, and I am sorry to remark, from the unhealthy state in which some of the transports have already arrived, that it seems likely we may have occasion for it all; but we have the further convenience of hospital ships, should they be required, and have, therefore, the prospect of seeing all the sick very tolerably placed, and amply provided with such necessaries as their unfortunate condition may demand. This, to a medical officer, is a circumstance of no trivial import. To the service it is likewise essential: but, speaking as an individual, I know of few things that could be so truly distressing, as to behold a crowd of brave and suffering soldiers lying destitute of the comforts and accommodations required in sickness; and you will believe that I feel a cordial gratification in finding that I am not likely to witness this example of misery.
In a moon-light walk lately from St. Anne’s Hill to Bridge-town, after our visit at the hospital, our attention was very powerfully arrested by the peculiar appearance of a grove of coco-nut trees, at the side of the road. From the brightness of the moon, the peculiar form of the trees, and the dead stillness of the night, we were suddenly struck with the grandeur and solemnity of the scene. The trees grew nigh, one to another, and the naked trunks formed so many stately pillars, supporting their palmated summits, which, stretching to meet each other, assumed the semblance of extensive aisles of Gothic arches. A gentle breeze waved the leaves in soothing undulation, while the dark shading foliage shut out the silver moon-beams, allowing only an occasional ray to steal in at partial openings, to relieve the sepulchral gloom. At the same time the sea at the bottom of the grove rolled its tranquil billows in soft murmurs to the shore, and broke in whispers scarcely to be heard upon the sands.