I am exceedingly sorry not to be able to give you improved tidings concerning the health of the troops upon this station. They are still very sickly, and it is distressing to know that the number of patients increases more rapidly than our means of accommodation. I remain quite well, amidst the general sickness which surrounds me; indeed, I am now the only medical officer of this expedition who has not experienced an attack of fever, but it would be too much to expect that I shall wholly escape its visitation. My best hope is, that I may not be seized, while my services are so essential to the relief of others.

In addition to the many duties which press upon me, I have now to perform the melancholy office of priest. From having no clergyman at Mahaica it falls to my lot to go through the afflicting ceremony of reading the funeral service over my lost comrades. This is a severe task to me, and I am sometimes fearful lest my spirits should become too much depressed to support me through the various claims of my present calling; but I am well aware, that if I were to yield to the distressful apprehensions which I see exhibited by those around me, who are not medical men, the situation of the sick must be more dreadful even than it is, at present; I am therefore resolved, if my strength continue, to meet with firmness all the necessities of this urgent period.

We have recently lost a pleasant and amiable companion in the decease of Captain Heritage. He suffered serious alarm on account of the death of the acting surgeon, and we found it impossible to rouse him from the desponding impression. On the 6th instant, he followed poor Ramsden to the grave, and from terror fancied that he perceived a “smell of the disease;” but I remarked, while I was reading the service over the body, that he had placed himself at a considerable distance to windward, holding a handkerchief, the whole of the time, to his mouth and nose. During the two following days he went about, as usual, among his comrades, without complaining of being ill, but still expressing his fears, and occasionally speaking of slight head-ach. On the morning of the 9th I was called to visit him as a patient, when I found him in bed. On the evening of the 10th he died. He had no strongly marked symptom of disease, nor any sign of great pain or suffering; but an experienced eye might discover from his general appearance, at the first moment of my being called to him, that there was no hope of his recovery. Extreme languor, with a peculiar change of feature, not to be described by words, might be said to constitute the disease, while they were correct indications of its dangerous nature. Soon, every thing he swallowed was thrown from the stomach without effort—the prostration of strength became excessive—he grew helpless—sunk into a state of listlessness—made no complaint:—low delirium supervened—he turned yellow, and ... fell to the earth like an autumnal leaf.

You will not be surprised to know that rumour has been busy on the subject of the prevailing sickness, and its fatal tendency: or that the prejudices of the inhabitants have led them to imagine that if it were treated by “the colonial doctors” the disease might be easily subdued. In consequence of such remarks, and in order to satisfy my own feelings, by trying every means which it was in my power to obtain, for the relief of the sick, I have solicited the aid of the medical men of the country, both English and Dutch, and asked them to oblige me by attending frequently at the hospital, that I might avail myself of their talents and experience to the improvement of my own practice, and the consequent benefit of the afflicted: several of the gentlemen have, accordingly, been good enough to favor us with occasional attendance; but I find that here, as at Berbische, the disorder is treated in the same manner as the common remittent fever of the country, and nearly the whole reliance confided to the bark—that great sheet-anchor of West India practice. This was prescribed in ample quantity, and in various forms, but it entirely failed of success.

At the time of poor Captain Heritage’s attack I particularly requested the assistance of one of my colonial brethren; and perceiving that it was beyond my own power to relieve him, I begged of Dr. —— to use his utmost endeavours to save him, when, without appearing to entertain the same apprehensions of his danger as myself, he advised a copious use of the bark. After visiting Captain H. this gentleman went with me into the hospital, where I selected four other recent cases, which seemed likely to terminate fatally, and intreated the doctor to take these likewise under his care; to command the resources of the hospital department; and to exert his best means of restoring: them: but he declined the charge of attending them, as his patients, although he consented to accompany me in my visits, and to consult with me regarding them; which afforded me infinite satisfaction, as I earnestly hoped to profit by his practice for the benefit of others. The bark was prescribed for them all, and most liberally administered, but in vain; for not one of them recovered! The doctor was greatly disappointed at the unhappy result of these cases, and, declaring that there was “something different” in the fever which prevailed among the troops, from that which usually attacked the colonists, he wished me better success, and withdrew his attendance.

It is scarcely requisite to mention that the trade-wind is lighter and less steady, during the decline of the wet season, than it becomes in the time of the dry season: so necessary, and salutiferous is it esteemed at all times, and particularly at the present period, that, on the breeze setting in, it is common for the people of the country to exclaim, “Here comes the doctor,” hailing it as the best medical friend of the colony. If it be not so powerful now as it is in the dry season, still it may be said to be always free at Mahaica, although it does not prove successful in preventing the wide ravages of disease.

Frequently I have long conversations with “Doctor Bob,” the resident black physician at the negro hospital, and sub-medical attendant of his brother slaves, who is very communicative, and furnishes me with many facts and remarks; and notwithstanding they are not always of sterling value, they are occasionally interesting and important. A few days since, on finding that his sick list had increased in almost as great a degree as my own, I asked Dr. Bob how this happened, when he replied, “It always so, Massa, at this time o’ year, because him weather change from wet to dry.” Seeing a negro boy, at the same moment, in a high paroxysm of fever, his case became the subject of our conversation, in the course of which this sable doctor made the following remark: “Him fever shall go, when him water come low;—him always come hot, when him tide high:” a fact which we very frequently observe at the hospital, although not so generally as to authorize an unqualified opinion, that the febrile accessions strictly connect with lunar influence.

The present moment may be said to be the high season of yellow fever. It now rages in its utmost violence, and with sorrow I remark, that great numbers perish from its malignity. Until the partial rains of the present period shall have ceased, and the dry season be well set in, it is said that we have to expect a continuance of sickness: nor does it appear to be within the power of man to prevent it. Of the cure, perhaps in many cases, I might speak in similar terms, for although we can frequently remove the disease, interrupt its course, or lessen its violence by combating it in an early stage; still, when the more malignant symptoms have appeared, it seldom happens that any medicine can arrest their progress. Bark, mercury, bleeding, bathing, and a variety of other remedies have been amply tried: but in vain, for all have proved equally ineffectual.

A painful alarm obtains among the troops; the medical officers are falling victims to their fatigue; and many circumstances combine to augment the melancholy gloom of this distressing period. At Mahaica the numbers admitted into the hospital form a very large proportion of the garrison; the same is the case at Stabrock. At Maiconuy and Awbarry, two smaller posts between Mahaica and Berbische, although much of sickness prevails, the disease assumes an intermittent or remittent form, and is less fatal: while here, and at Fort William Frederic, it attacks with all the destructive violence of a continued fever.

In my walks to and from the hospital, I sometimes fix myself at the side of the sea, or on the border of the river, and contemplate, in solitude, the awful, and peculiarly critical situation in which I am placed! I behold the responsibility of an important department pressing upon me—crowds of sick lifting up their dying eyes to me for relief—officers watching, in earnest solicitude, my slightest complainings—soldiers looking towards me with anxiety for my safety, and all who are near me regarding me with the most lively concern—each seeming to express himself sensible how much his health, and even his life, may soon depend upon the care and exertions of an individual!

Anxious to lessen the evils of this afflicting season, I lately obtained the consent of the commanding officer, and prevailed upon a party of soldiers to place themselves under my direction, in order to try what might be the effect of some prophylactic means, either in keeping off the attack of the disease, or in rendering its symptoms milder; but, after only a few days observance of the plan I advised, some of the men happening to feel a little uneasy from the medicine, they all swore they would not be killed, while they were well, to oblige either the captain or the doctor, and, refusing to persevere, completely frustrated my endeavours, and prevented me from ascertaining what might have been the fair result of the trial.

Our diet-table at the hospital is of late very much improved, in consequence of the planters, of the neighbouring estates, having agreed to supply us, each in his turn, with fresh provisions for two days in the week. It is not usual for Englishmen to esteem plain beef or mutton a luxury; but such we really find it here, and, when we obtain it, we feast upon it with high and particular enjoyment.