Pursuant to the instructions which I had received, as mentioned in my late letters from the coast of Guiana, I took the earliest opportunity of proceeding from Demarara to head-quarters at Martinique, accompanied by Messrs. Mackie, Jordan, and Fleming, the only surviving assistants of the St. Domingo hospital department, who still continue with me, to rejoin that staff.
We embarked on Saturday, May 6th, on board the Shark schooner, a small vessel deeply laden with cotton, and fitted up with little attention to the accommodation of passengers. Lieutenant D’Arcey of the 39th regiment, was of our party, and we had another cabin passenger in the person of an aged planter from Essequibo, named Jordine, who, notwithstanding he had been many years absent from Europe, still discovered, by his accent, that he had originally sailed from the north of Tweed.
We made the passage in five days, and arrived here on the 11th instant. Knowing the total discomfort which I never fail to experience when at sea, I give you all the pleasant tidings you will expect, regarding the voyage, when I tell you that ... it is ended!
Scarcely were we under sail before we found ourselves in trouble. Our crew had dipped so deeply into the parting glass, that they were quite incapable of working the vessel. No sooner, therefore, had we passed the bar into heaving and restless water, than we were compelled to let go the anchor, and lie pitching up and down at the mercy of the waves and the tide, until the sailors became sobered by sleep, They left their hammocks on the morning of the 7th, at an early hour, to get the vessel under weigh. Nearly as soon as the sails were unfurled I was seized with a violent sickness, and driven to my pillow, where I remained until the evening of the 8th, when we passed the island of Trinidad, leaving it several leagues to leeward.
On the 9th the breeze moderated as the sun retired, and the schooner becoming more steady, I took my seat upon deck, and directed my eye towards the island of Tobago, which was visible at about ten leagues distance.
Early on the morning of the 10th we were called from our births to see St. Vincent and St. Lucie, which were then distinctly in view, the former to leeward, the latter directly a-head of the vessel.
St. Vincent appeared a high and rocky island, with its aspiring mountains rounded into a kind of regular form; while St. Lucie, which was nearer to us, presented a number of rude and craggy summits, formed into towering pyramids of naked rocks and broken precipices. At the S.W. point of this colony were seen the tops of two mountains particularly elevated, and from their form called “the Sugar-loaves.” It being in our course to sail close under them, their appearance was rendered very grand and awful; they seemed to hang suspended from the edge of the shore, as if threatening to fall upon the vessel, and crush it to atoms.
Scarcely had we proceeded beyond the “Sugar-loaves,” when the breeze forsook us, and we were becalmed directly under the lee of the island, near Souffrée, which was formerly the capital of the colony. This town is situated at the border of the sea, a little beyond the mountainous point, in a confined bay, surrounded by lofty hills. After lying a considerable time, with the sails loose, the breeze was renewed, and carried our schooner pleasantly along the coast, affording us a most favorable opportunity of viewing the leeward part of St. Lucie: but as we were proceeding smoothly under the shore, a vessel hove in sight, directly a-head, making full sail towards us. Believing her to be a privateer, we instantly tacked about, and stood for the harbour of Souffrée; but she outsailed us, and we were in danger of being cut off from the land before we could reach near enough to be within the protection of the battery. Unfortunately, too, the breeze forsook us, and just as we approached near to the harbour’s mouth we found ourselves immoveable, with the additional mortification of seeing the ship that was chasing us coming up with full sails. Every thing was put in the best state for our defence, but at the moment when we expected the enemy to commence the attack, we observed that his vessel was also rendered motionless by the calm.
The breeze was soon renewed, when our sails speedily filled, and we were carried into the bay. Upon seeing us take shelter in the harbour, our pursuer sailed across its mouth, making a signal implying that she was an English cruiser, and that we might proceed on our passage! But we presently discovered that this false alarm would be the loss of an entire day to us. We endeavoured to reconcile the delay by the opportunity it afforded of obtaining a better view of the island, which appeared to be a rugged mountainous waste. At the sides of some of the hills, and in the narrow valleys, were a few scattered houses; but most of them were abandoned, or in ruins. Only very small spots, at different points, were in cultivation, the greater part of the fields, which had formerly been obedient to the hoe and the spade, being neglected, and exhibiting one wide scene of desolation; indeed, the whole of the coast bore strong marks of having been a prey to the anarchy of the times, and displayed a gloomy example of the effects of that levelling and revolutionary engine—“egalité.”
On the approach of evening we came within view of the Pigeon Island, Morne Fortuné, Morne Duchasseau, the Vigie, the Carenage, and all those places which, about twelve months before, had been the great scene of action. Here the cultivation was equally neglected, as in the other parts which we had passed. From the sterile prospect which met the eye, an unhappy impression was forced upon the mind in the recollection that these barren rocks had so recently been purchased at a melancholy expense of the blood and treasure of our country.
In the whole line of coast, from Souffrée to Morne Fortuné, we did not observe a single battery, a circumstance which accounts for the temerity of the commanders of French privateers, who frequently capture our defenceless trading vessels close under the shores of the island.
Just before sunset Martinique was discovered about ten leagues a-head; and we went to our births anticipating the delight of breakfasting at St. Pierre the next day.
On the morning of the 11th the captain called us up, between five and six o’clock, in order that we might not lose the very favorable opportunity which then offered of viewing the island. On quitting our hammocks we found that we were sailing along the coast, close in shore, between Fort Royal and St. Pierre, standing toward the latter, and commanding a fine prospect, including Fort Royal harbour and the shipping. We were prevented by frequent returns of calm from getting in at breakfast-time, but the disappointment was amply compensated by the gratification of beholding distinct landscapes of several very pleasant parts of the territory.
Martinique is mountainous, but less rude and craggy than St. Lucie. The hills are of more regular form. They also exhibit more of vegetation and improvement, and do not so often terminate in heavy masses of naked rock. The valleys are also wider, and better cultivated. These two islands, however much they may have been formerly allied in feature, appear from the sea to be the direct reverse of each other: while Martinique offers an animated scene of culture and richness, St. Lucie may be said to sleep under an extended and almost general sterility.
We observed several small villages on the beach; and saw many fishermen employed in their boats or repairing their nets at the edge of the water. Canoes were passing in various directions; batteries appeared at short distances from each other, manned with soldiers; and all about the coast formed an active, busy scene.
The approach to the town of St. Pierre presented one of the finest pictures that can be imagined. The breeze freshened as we came into the bay, and we were detained beating on and off until noon, which gave us the advantage of seeing the town, with the finely cultivated hills and fields of its environs, from different points.
Imagine yourself at sea, near the coast of a most beautiful island, and sailing into an expansive bay, with a handsome town directly before you, encompassed with hills richly planted with coffee and cassada, fields spread with luxuriant verdure, and valleys loaded with sugarcanes: add to the scene a crowd of shipping, appearing like a forest below the town, and fruitful gardens and orchards hanging upon the hills above it; then place in the back-ground lofty mountains, clothed with thick woods, or crowned with dark majestic clouds, and you will have a correct representation of the splendid picture which was before us, as we approached the town of St. Pierre.
Nor is the appearance of the place itself less striking. Unlike the towns of the English colonies, it resembles in structure those of Europe, particularly some of the old cities of the continent—the houses being high, the streets paved and very narrow, and the shops open, with the goods lying exposed for sale at the door and the unclosed windows. From its form, together with being placed directly under the hills, and on the leeward side of the island, you will perceive that the temperature of St. Pierre must be excessively high, and that convenience, more than health, has been consulted in marking the site of the capital. Happily a current of water finds its course down the middle of each of the principal streets, from a spring at the side of one of the hills, which serves as a stream of health and life to the inhabitants: without this, the air of the town must have been dreadfully oppressive, and the heat insupportable.
We remarked, as a further novelty upon landing at St. Pierre, that the inhabitants, compared with those we had been lately accustomed to meet, were of uncommonly fair complexion. Nor is this peculiarity confined to those who have arrived from the distant shores of the Atlantic: it extends equally to the white creoles, and the people of colour, appearing even in those who are only a single remove from the negroes; perhaps it may be attributed to their living in a more confined heat, and closer shade, than those whom we had recently left in the more exposed colonies of Guiana.
Not in its structure and appearance only, but in its accommodations likewise, St. Pierre more resembles the towns of Europe, than any of the places where we have lately resided. It is the capital of the Charibbee islands; and may be regarded as the metropolis of the windward colonies. It is now the head-quarters of the army, and consequently the great mart of stores and provisions, and the centre of general commerce. It offers the convenience of regularly established taverns and hotels, where strangers or travellers immediately find an appropriate home. Public walks, clubs, billiard-rooms, and a handsome playhouse, also crowded streets, overflowing shops, and a busy traffic are found at St. Pierre: these, together with the active movements of a military throng, create a mixed and interesting scene of war, pleasure, and business, each, in its turn, predominant, yet all prevailing together, and pursued with equal ardor by their separate or their common votaries.
Coming from the quietude of Guiana, the change is peculiarly striking, and excites an impression very similar to that which is experienced, in England, upon removing from the stillness of a rural abode, to the noise and hurry of London. At present we live at an hotel, kept by a mulatto woman, where, by means of money, we have the power of procuring accommodations, and amply supplying our wants: which was not always the case at our late abode in South America. Our beds are good, the table is well served, and of the attendance we cannot complain. For dinner we pay two dollars each, for breakfast three quarters of a dollar, and for a bed the same. Madeira wine is a dollar and a quarter the bottle, Claret a dollar and a half, and other things in proportion; so that the whole expense of living in the plainest manner (although, from our late change, we might regard it as sumptuous) may be stated at an average of a joe each day. This, it may be remarked, can ill consist with the limited pay of many of the officers: but a well-regulated mess may be provided at a cheaper rate, though not upon terms so reasonable as in Europe, as you will readily perceive when I tell you that a thin half-fed calf is sold in the market at the price of fifteen or sixteen joes, a chicken for more than two dollars, and a turkey for seven dollars.
The commander in chief being absent, with the expedition to Porto Rico, at the time of our arrival, I have not yet had an opportunity of acquiring any correct intelligence respecting our further destination: he returned to Martinique yesterday; I may hope, therefore, to give you some tidings, concerning our movements, in my next letter.