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Notes on the West Indies, vol. 1 of 2 cover

Notes on the West Indies, vol. 1 of 2

Chapter 9: LETTER V.
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About This Book

The author offers a series of epistolary travel notes describing a voyage to and experiences in the Caribbean, blending shipboard episodes and port sketches with observations on climate, disease—particularly seasoning or yellow fever—and colonial society. The narrative documents encounters with Creole communities, enslaved people, and indigenous groups of South America, and includes reflections on slavery, colonial administration, military hospitals, and everyday life ashore. The second edition incorporates additional letters from Martinique, Jamaica, and Saint-Domingue and broadens commentary on public health and slavery, maintaining an episodic, immediate style that favors contemporaneous impressions over systematic analysis.

LETTER V.

Portsmouth, Nov. 8, 1795.

Out of evil, it is said, sometimes springeth good: and I feel assured that you will agree with me, in considering the adage verified, when I tell you, that the repeated delays to which we have been subjected have proved the means of completing our party, by converting our harmonious trio into a still more social quartette: a circumstance which has happened from our having the company of Dr. Cleghorn, who is now arrived, at this place, on his way to join the St. Domingo hospital staff. He is a pleasant, well-informed man, brother to the professor of anatomy in the University of Dublin, and nephew to the celebrated author on the diseases of Minorca. His society is a great acquisition to us, and we are much gratified in having such an agreeable addition to our party. We now look, more anxiously than ever, to the arrival of the Ulysses, in the hope of being allowed to establish a friendly mess for the voyage.

With our newly arrived comrade we have repeated our visits to the dock-yard, the Haslar hospital, and the Forton prison.

At the prison we met with a striking example of the great vicissitudes to which persons are liable, who are exposed to the hazardous chances of war. Observing among the prisoners, an officer who had lost his right arm, we were led to ask some questions respecting him, when we learned that he was the very lieutenant who took possession of our ship of war the Alexander, at the time she fell into the hands of the French; and that he had, afterwards, been taken in one of the ships captured by Lord Bridport’s fleet, and had lost his arm in the action. Thus the man, who, but a short time ago, rejoiced in victory, is now humbled by defeat, and has the sad mortification of being confined a prisoner, with the loss of a most important limb, and the melancholy prospect of being a cripple throughout the remainder of his life.