The ship Charity was lying in the harbor of Porto Cabello, but under seizure of the Spanish government. Captain Moncrieff, Mr. Campbell, and myself, with no longer a home in the pilot-boat, transferred our quarters to the ship. The officers took up their abode in the cabin, while I was thrown on the hospitalities of the forecastle. The prize-master of the pilot-boat honored me with a pressing invitation to join the crew of the felucca, assuring me there was "good picking" along the coast, and he would put me in the way of doing well. I felt flattered by his good opinion; but under the circumstances thought proper to decline the invitation.
The ship Charity was a vessel of about three hundred and fifty tons burden, moored at this time in the centre of the harbor, awaiting the decision of the Admiralty Court. The ship was commanded by a man of very ordinary capacity. The mate was a mere sailor, wanting in intelligence and worth, and a fit associate for the captain. The ship and her valuable cargo were actually n charge of the supercargo, a Mr. Parker, of New York, who was also part owner. He resided on shore and seldom visited the ship. It was at his instance I found an asylum in the Charity along with the officers of the pilot-boat.
The crew of the Charity consisted of some eight or ten men, Dutchmen, Swedes, and Italians, as brutal and ignorant a set of men as it was ever my misfortune to fall in with. With such officers and such a crew, it may be imagined there was little discipline on board. Liquor could be easily obtained; and drunken rows and fighting among themselves, and occasionally with the captain or mate, were of frequent occurrence. None of the crew gave me a welcome when I went on board, and I saw at once there could be no good fellowship between us. I found a space in the forecastle for my chest, and in that warm climate it mattered little where I slept. I performed my duties regularly with the crew, and for the first two days led an unsocial, almost a solitary life, in the midst of a large ship's company. Captain Moncrieff, like an honest man, paid me the month's pay to which I was entitled, in advance. This money I kept about my person, and carefully concealed from every one the prosperous sate of my finances. I was thus enabled to indulge in little comforts which, to some extent, counterbalanced the inconveniences to which I was subjected.
On the morning of the third day after I had taken up my quarters in the ship, another person was received on board in accordance with a mandate from the supercargo. His name was Frederick Strictland. He was an Englishman, a veritable cockney, about nineteen or twenty years of age, a strong-built and rather good-looking young man. His countenance, although intelligent, was not prepossessing; there was a sort of nameless expression about the eye which repelled confidence and invited suspicion. But it was no time for me to entertain prejudices which might be unfounded, or indulge in surmises unfavorable to the character of my new shipmate. He could talk English, and talk it well. He was the victim of misfortune, being destitute of friends and money in a strange country. Finding ourselves accidentally thrown together in the same ship, it is not remarkable that we became constant companions from the commencement of our acquaintance, and intimate friends.
Strictland's story was calculated to excite compassion. His father was a respectable trader in London, and Frederick had been a clerk in his counting room. He frankly acknowledged he had been a little wild and extravagant, and having expressed a desire to go abroad, his father allowed him to proceed to Curacoa on a visit to a brother in that island. His brother received him coldly and could not or would not find him employment. He induced him to take passage for Porto Cabello, with assurances that he would there find some desirable means of getting a living. Disappointed in this, and having spent the little money given him by his brother, and sold or pawned the greater part of his clothing, his next project was to proceed to the United States, and he applied to Mr. Parker for a passage in the only American vessel in port. He was told that the ship might not leave the harbor for months, if ever. But as he was suffering from want, he was permitted to make it his home until he could find some other resource. I did not allow myself to doubt the truth of any portion of Strictland's narrative. I confided to him the particulars of my own situation. We conversed freely in regard to the future, and formed a resolution to keep together, and embrace the first opportunity of getting to the United States.
When I had been about a week in Porto Cabello, I was attacked by a severe and dangerous illness. I suffered severe pains incessantly, which deprived me of sleep. I was losing my strength daily, and at length, without any relaxation of the symptoms, was hardly able to crawl about the ship. I received no sympathy or medical aid from the captain or mate, and could not even obtain a little rice or gruel, or any other food than the coarse viands that were served out to the ship's company.
Strictland was with me whenever he could be spared from his regular duties, and gave me encouragement and aid. But I could not conceal from myself that my illness was becoming a serious matter. I accidentally heard two or three of the crew conversing about my sickness one day, and, to my great consternation, they came to the conclusion that I was rapidly sinking, and they would soon be rid of my company.
"Yaw," muttered in thick guttural tones a thick-headed Dutchman, who had manifested towards me particular dislike, "in one or TWO days more, at farthest, we shall help to carry him ashore in a wooden box." And a pleasant smile for a moment lighted up his ugly features.
"You lie, you heartless vagabond!" I exclaimed, giving a loose to my indignation; "you won't get rid of me so easily as you think. I will live and laugh at you yet, were it only to disappoint your expectations."
Nevertheless, the opinion which my unsympathizing shipmates thus volunteered came over me like an electric shock. It sounded in my ears like a sentence of death. I crawled along the lower deck into the forecastle, and from the bottom of my chest took a small looking-glass which I had not used for weeks. I saw the reflection of my features, and started back aghast. The transformation was appalling. The uncombed locks, the sunken eyes, the pallid, fleshless cheeks, the sharp features, and the anxious, agonized expression caused by continual pain, all seemed to have been suddenly created by the spell of some malignant enchanter. I did not venture to take a second look, and no longer wondered at the gloomy prediction of my companions.
The next day I found myself growing worse, and the pain increasing; and, notwithstanding my determination to recover and falsify the prediction of my unfeeling shipmates, I should undoubtedly have followed the dark path which thousands of my young countrymen, sick and neglected in a foreign land, had trod before, had I not received aid from an unexpected quarter. I was crawling along the main deck, near the gangway, when Mr. Parker, the supercargo, came on board. As he stepped over the gunwale, my appearance, fortunately for me, arrested his attention. He inquired my name, examined my condition, and seemed greatly shocked at the brutal neglect I had experienced. He told me to be of good courage; that it was not yet too late to arrest the progress of my disease. He commenced his healing operations by administering a copious dose of laudanum, which immediately relieved my pain and threw me into a refreshing sleep. He furnished me with other medicines, ordered me food suitable to my condition, and in a few days, owing to his humanity, care, and skill, I no longer suffered excepting from debility.
When Porto Cabello was recaptured by the Spaniards, in 1812, there was a number of French families in the place, who, having sympathized with the Patriots, received an intimation that their presence would be no longer tolerated; that they must shift their quarters forthwith. They accordingly purchased a small schooner, called "La Concha," put all their movable property on board, procured a French captain and mate, and prepared to embark for St. Bartholomew. When I heard of the expedition, two men were required to complete the crew. I conferred with Strictland; we both regarded it as an opportunity too favorable to be neglected, imagining that if we could reach St. Bartholomew, a neutral port, there would be no difficulty in getting a passage to the United States. We lost no time in calling on the captain, and offered to work our passage to St. Bartholomew an offer which was gladly accepted.
I expended a few of my Spanish dollars in providing necessaries for our voyage, which might be of two or three weeks' duration, and when the time appointed for the departure of the schooner arrived, we bade farewell to the Charity, and in a few hours, while sailing close-hauled on a wind to the northward, beheld the fortifications at the mouth of the harbor lessening in the distance.
The entrance to the harbor of Porto Cabello was once the theatre of one of the most gallant exploits recorded in the annals of naval warfare. A mutiny took place on board the British frigate Hermione, in 1799, while on the West India station, in consequence, it was said, of the harsh treatment which the crew received. The officers were murdered and thrown overboard. Captain Pigot, who commanded the frigate, after receiving several wounds, retreated to his cabin, and defended himself desperately with his dirk until he was bayoneted by the mutineers.
The frigate, thus taken possession of, was carried into Porto Cabello and delivered up to the Spanish authorities; Spain at that time being at war with Great Britain. The red-handed mutineers dispersed, and many of them subsequently returned to their native country, but were from time to time arrested, tried by court martial, and executed.
Indeed, no pains or expense were spared by the British government to bring these mutineers to punishment. They were sought for in every part of the world; hunted out of their hiding-places, and hanged. No false philanthropy interfered in their behalf, and threw obstacles in the swift and sure career of justice. Very few, if any, escaped the terrible punishment due to their crimes MUTINY AND MURDER ON THE HIGH SEAS. The effect of the EXAMPLE, which is the object of capital punishment was most salutary. No mutiny has occurred in the British navy since that time.
The Hermione was regarded as a lawful prize by the Spaniards, notwithstanding the extraordinary manner by which the ship fell into their hands. She was refitted; a crew of four hundred men, including marines, were put on board, and, ready for a cruise, she lay at anchor near the entrance of the harbor and within musket shot of the principal fortifications, which mounted two hundred cannon.
These facts became known to Captain Hamilton, who commanded the British frigate Surprise, cruising on the coast, and that gallant officer conceived the daring design of boarding the Hermione with a portion of his crew, and cutting her out in spite of opposition, while she was lying under the guns of this heavy fortification. Such an enterprise could only have been conceived by a man of unusual intrepidity; but it was planned with a degree of prudence and cool calculation which insured success.
After having well observed the situation of the frigate, Captain Hamilton with one hundred men left the Surprise in boats soon after midnight on the 25th of October, 1800. On approaching the Hermione the alarm was given by the frigate's launch, which, armed with a twenty-four pounder, was rowing guard around the ship. After beating off the launch, Captain Hamilton, at the head of fifty chosen men, armed chiefly with cutlasses, boarded the Hermione on the bows. As soon as he and his bold companions obtained foothold, the boat's crews cut the cables and commenced towing the Hermione into the offing. Thus, while the battle was raging on the ship's decks, she was rapidly towed further from the batteries which had now commenced firing, and nearer to the Surprise, which ship stood close into the harbor.
A bloody contest for the possession of the ship took place on her decks. The Spaniards fought bravely; but the English, forming a front across the main deck after they got possession of the forecastle, drove them aft, where, after a desperate struggle on the quarter-deck or poop, the Dons were all killed or driven overboard. The fight was still continued on the gun-deck, where a dreadful carnage took place; and it was only after an obstinate combat of an hour and a half from the commencement of the action, that the Spaniards called for quarter, being entirely subdued.
In this action the British had no men killed, and only fourteen wounded among whom was Captain Hamilton, who fought boldly at the head of his men. The Spaniards had ninety-seven men wounded, most of them severely, and one hundred and nineteen killed! It would thus seem that while the courage of both parties was about equal, the English had a vast superiority in physical power. The Spaniards, unable to oppose to their fierce enemies other than a feeble resistance, bravely SUBMITTED TO BE KILLED; and the English sailors hacked and hewed them down until they cried for quarter.
The little La Concha, in which I was now embarked, was a dull-sailing vessel with poor accommodations, but crowded with living beings; and when beneath the deck, they were necessarily stowed away in the most miscellaneous manner, resembling herrings packed in a barrel. In addition to the officers and crew, we had about thirty passengers, men, women, and children, exiles from the land of their adoption; driven forth by the hand of power to seek a place of refuge in unknown countries. In this case, there was a great loss of property as well as of comfort, and the future must have presented to this little band of exiles an uninviting picture.
The feelings of people born in any other land than France, would have been deeply affected by such a change; and unavailing regrets, bitter complaints, and gloomy speculations in regard to the future, would have cast a cloud over their spirits, and repressed aught like gayety or cheerfulness during the passage. But our passengers were truly French; and "VIVE LA BAGATELLE" was their motto. Although subjected to many inconveniences during a long and tedious passage, and deprived of comforts to which they had been accustomed, yet without resorting for consolation to the philosophy of the schools, there was no murmuring at their unhappy lot. They seemed not merely contented, but gay; they even made a jest of their misfortunes, indulged in practical jokes, fun, and frolic, and derived amusement from every occurrence which took place.
On this passage, Strictland, who entertained the prejudices of his nation against the French, lost no opportunity to manifest his contempt of the passengers, and commented on their proceedings in a manner ill-natured and unjust.
He more than once exhibited a surliness and incivility in his demeanor, which is supposed to be a prominent feature in the character of a burly Briton; and was far from being a favorite with any of the passengers or the captain. On more than one occasion a misunderstanding occurred between Strictland and myself, and at one time it approached an open rupture.
We were both familiar with Smollet's "Adventures of Roderick Random," and compared ourselves, with our rambles about the world in quest of a living, to the hero of that celebrated work and his faithful friend Strap; with this difference, however, that while each of us applied to himself the part of Roderick, neither was willing to assume the humble character of the honest but simple-minded Strap. In the course of our discussion Strictland lost his temper, and indulged in language towards myself that I was not disposed to pass lightly over. The next morning, the little uninhabited island of Orchilla being in sight, the wind light and the weather pleasant, the boat was launched, and the mate with several passengers, urged by curiosity, embarked, and were pulled ashore by Strictland and myself. While the other parties were rambling about, making investigations, we, more pugnaciously inclined, retired to a short distance from the shore, and prepared to settle all our disputes in a "bout at fisticuffs," an ungentlemanly method of settling a controversy, but one which may afford as much SATISFACTION to the vanquished party as a sword-thrust through the vitals, or pistol bullet in the brain.
After exchanging a few left-handed compliments with no decided result, our pugilistic amusement was interrupted by the unauthorized influence of two of the passengers, who had been searching for shell-fish among the rocks. What the result of the contest would have been I will not venture to conjecture. I was but a tyro in the art, while Strictland prided himself in his scientific skill, and gave an indication of the purity of his tastes by boasting of having once acted in the honorable capacity of bottle-holder to a disciple of the notorious Tom Crib, on a very interesting public occasion.
After we had been about a fortnight on our passage, daily beating to windward in the Caribbean Sea, we were fallen in with by a British sloop-of-war. The sight of this vessel, and a knowledge of her character, caused a sensation throughout the schooner. Doubts were very naturally entertained in regard to the treatment the passengers would receive at the hands of their much-dreaded enemy. They were Frenchmen, and all the property on board was French property; and notwithstanding they sailed under Spanish colors, it was predicted by some, who entertained exaggerated notions of the rapacity of Englishmen and their hatred of the French, that the flag of Spain would not serve as a protection; but that their little property would be seized upon, and themselves detained and confined as prisoners or war. Others, however, cherished a different opinion, and had confidence in that magnanimity which has always been claimed by the English as one of their national attributes.
It was an anxious moment; and a general council of war was held among the passengers on the deck of the schooner, in which, as at a conclave of parrots, few seemed to listen while every one was eager to speak. The consultation, however, produced no result. Indeed, nothing could be done, excepting to wait, and bow submissively to the decrees of the conqueror.
My friend and companion, Strictland, was really in greater jeopardy than either of the Frenchmen. If his name and station had been discovered, he would have found snug quarters during the term of his natural life; nothing could have saved him from impressment. The French passengers, aware of the fact, with the kindest feelings took active measures to prevent such a misfortune. They changed his name, clad him in Frenchified garments, bound a many-colored handkerchief around his head, put a cigarette in his mouth, and cautioned him against replying in his native tongue to questions that might be asked. Thus travestied, it was boldly predicted that he would not be taken for an Englishman.
The sloop-of-war sent a boat alongside, commanded by a lieutenant, who seemed surprised at the singular group by which he was surrounded on reaching the schooner's deck. To his questions, replies were received from a dozen different mouths. He was a pleasant, gentlemanly officer and seemed greatly amused at his reception. At length he inquired for the captain, and on his being pointed out, addressed his questions to him, and repressed the officious interference of others until he received a full explanation of the character of the vessel and the intent of the voyage. The statements of the captain were confirmed by papers and documents, which left no doubt of their truth. The lieutenant, after obtaining all necessary information, returned to the ship to report the result of his visit. He did not tarry long, and when he came back relieved the apprehensions of the passengers by assuring them that the commander of the sloop of war, far from seeking to injure or embarrass them, felt for their misfortunes and would gladly render them any assistance in his power. He then went among the passengers, conversed with them, asked each one his name and country, and took other means to prevent deception. When he came to Strictland, and asked his name, the reply was, "Jean Fourchette," in a bold tone.
"Are you a Frenchman?" asked the officer.
"Yes, SIR," was Strictland's reply, in a most anti-Gallican accent.
The officer stared at him for a moment, but without asking more questions passed on to others.
I felt somewhat apprehensive that the British ship was short-manned, and that the officer might cast a longing look on me, and consider me worthy of serving his "most gracious majesty"; in which case I intended to fall back on my American protection, which I regarded as my richest treasure, and insist upon going to an English prison rather than sling my hammock in a man-of-war. But no questions were asked, as I was looked upon as one of the crew, which, without counting Strictland, consisted of only three individuals; and the idea of reducing that small number by impressment was not entertained.
The officer, before he left the schooner, with great glee communicated to our passengers an important piece of intelligence, which was more gratifying to British than to French ears. A great and decisive battle had been fought at Salamanca, in Spain, between the combined armies under Wellington and the French army under Marmont. It resulted in the signal defeat of the French marshal, who was severely wounded. The officer left some English newspapers on board the schooner containing the details of the battle.
The difficulty which had occurred between Strictland and myself, and which at one time threatened to sever forever all friendly ties, was amicably settled before we arrived at St. Bartholomew. Policy undoubtedly pointed out to the Englishman the importance of continuing our friendly relations while my money lasted; and he apologized in a handsome manner for what I considered his rude and uncivil conduct. Again we became sworn friends and brothers, and resolved that the same fortune, good or evil, should betide us both.
We arrived at St. Bartholomew about the 20th of September, 1812, and landed our passengers in good order, well-conditioned, and in tip-top spirits, after a passage of twenty days.
We found the harbor of St. Bartholomew full of vessels belonging to almost every nation. Among them were several American clippers taking in cargo for the United States; also vessels under Swedish colors bound in the same direction. From these facts we anticipated little difficulty in procuring a passage to that country, on whose shores my friend, the young Englishman, as well as myself, was anxious to stand. But, although there were many vessels in port, there were also many sailors; far more than could be provided with employment; men, who by shipwreck or capture, had been set adrift in different parts of the Windward islands, and had flocked to St. Bartholomew with a view to get a passage to "The land of the free and the home of the brave."
Strictland and myself remained in the schooner La Concha a couple of days, until the cargo was discharged, when the French captain, taking me aside, told me he was making arrangements to proceed on a trip to Point Petre, in Guadaloupe, and was desirous I should remain with him as one of the crew on regular wages. But as he positively refused to receive my companion on the same terms, or on any terms whatever, and, moreover, expressed an opinion of his character by no means favorable, and which I believed to be unjust, I declined his proposition as a matter of course.
It now became necessary to seek some abiding place on shore until we could find means of getting from the island. But on inquiry I ascertained that thee expenses of board, even of the humblest character, were so great that our slender resources, the few dollars remained of my single month's pay, would not warrant such an extravagant proceeding as a resort to a boarding house. I convinced Strictland of the importance of the strictest economy in our expenditures; succeeded in persuading a good-natured Swede, who kept a small shop near the careenage, to allow my chest to remain with him a few days, and we undertook to "rough it" as well as we could.
In the morning we usually took a survey of the vessels in the harbor, hoping to find employment of some kind or a chance to leave the island. When hungry, we bought, for a small sum, a loaf of bread and a half dozen small fish, jacks or ballahues, already cooked, of which there was always a bountiful supply for sale about the wharves, and then retiring to the outskirts of the town, seated in the shade of one of the few trees in that neighborhood, we made a hearty and delicious repast. The greatest inconvenience to which we were subjected was a want of water. There was a great scarcity of that "necessary of life" in the island, and a drink of water, when asked for, was frequently refused. More than once, when hard pressed by thirst, I entered a grog shop and paid for a glass of liquor in order to obtain a refreshing draught of the pure element.
At night, after walking through the streets and listening to the gossip of the sailors collected in groups in the streets, we retired to some lonely wharf, and throwing ourselves down on a pile of SOFT pine boards, and gathering our jackets around us, and curtained by the starry canopy of heaven, we slept as soundly and sweetly as if reposing on the most luxurious couch.
But even this cheap mode of lodging was attended with inconveniences. One night a shower of rain came suddenly upon us. This was an event unfrequent and consequently unexpected, and our garments were thoroughly soaked before we could realize our misfortune. As this happened about three o'clock in the morning, there was nothing left but to wait patiently several hours, wet to the skin and shivering in the night air, until our clothing was dried by the rays of the sun and warmth restored to our frames.
One night an unprincipled knave undertook to rob us while we slept. Fortunately for us he began his work with Strictland, and took possession of the few effects which his pockets contained before my companion awoke and gave the alarm. On hearing his cry, I started to my feet and seized the fellow, who, being nearly naked, eluded my grasp and ran. We chased him the length of a street, when he entered an alley and disappeared among a row of dilapidated buildings.
After these events we considered it expedient to change our capacious lodging house for one of more limited dimensions, where we might be screened from a shower and concealed from the prying eyes of a robber. We proceeded the next day in quest of such an accommodation, and after a careful survey of various localities, our labors were crowned with success. We found on the northern side of the harbor an old boat that had been hauled up on the beach and turned bottom upwards. This furnished us with a capital lodging house. We took up our quarters there every night without asking permission of the owner, and were never disturbed in our snug domicile after we laid ourselves down to rest.
It may be asked why I did not apply to the American consul for assistance. The treatment which I received from the agent of our government, when in distress, at Liverpool, created on my mind an unfavorable impression in regard to that class of officials, and the reluctant aid and little encouragement which those of my countrymen met with who applied for advice and assistance to the consul at St. Bartholomew, were calculated to prevent any application on my part. Besides, I had entwined my fortunes with another an Englishman; and we had resolved to partake of weal or woe together.
On more than one occasion I could have procured a passage for myself to my native land if I had been willing to leave Strictland, My "protection," as well as appearance, furnished indisputable evidence that I was an American; but Strictland had no testimony of any kind to offer in favor of his citizenship, and to every application for a passage he received a decided shake of the head, from which there was no appeal.
About this time an excitement prevailed among the web-footed gentry in St. Bartholomew in relation to the impressment of seamen by British authorities. The cruisers on the West India station were deficient in men; and all kinds of stratagems were regarded as justifiable which would be likely to supply the deficiency. British ships and brigs of war were often seen cruising off the harbor of St. Bartholomew, and their boats were sent ashore for intelligence and provisions. It became known to some of the officers that there was a large number of seamen in the town destitute of employment, and a plot was devised to kidnap a few of them, and do them a good turn against their will, by giving them board and lodging gratis, and an opportunity to display their courage by fighting the enemies of Great Britain.
A shrewd and intelligent English office, who could tell a good story and make himself agreeable in a grog shop, disguised in the plain dress of a common sailor, one day got admittance to a knot of these unsuspecting "old salts," and by his liberality and good humor acquired their confidence. Under some plausible pretext he induced a dozen or fifteen Dutchmen, Swedes, Britons, and Yankees to accompany him to a wharf on the opposite side of the harbor, where an alarm or cries for succor could hardly be heard by any of the sailors on shore. Instead of the sport which was expected, they found themselves surrounded by the boat's crew of a man-of-war! After a brief, but unsuccessful struggle, they were all, with the exception of two, hustled into the boat and carried off in triumph on board an English frigate. Those two effected their escape by making good use of their legs, and their account of this most unjustifiable but successful case of man-stealing created a feeling of hatred against the officers of British men-of-war, which manifested itself on several occasions, and was near being attended with serious results.
One pleasant morning, an American clipper brig arrived at St. Bartholomew from the United States. The event was soon known to every person in the island, and caused quite an excitement. When a boat from the brig, with the captain on board, reached the landing-place, a crowd was assembled to hear the news and inquire into the results of the war. Englishmen and Americans met upon the wharf upon the most friendly footing, and jocularly offered bets with each other in regard to the nature of the intelligence brought by this arrival.
The captain stepped on shore and was besieged on every side. "What is the news, captain?" eagerly inquired half a dozen individuals in the same breath.
"Is Canada captured by the Americans?" shouted an undoubted Jonathan, one of those persevering, restless mortals of whom it has been said by a Yankee girl,
"Has there been any naval engagement? Any American frigates taken, hey?" inquired a genuine native of Albion, his eyes sparkling with expectation.
The captain, although thus suddenly surrounded, captured, and taken possession of, seemed more amused than annoyed by these inquisitorial proceedings, and, with a clear voice and a good-humored smile, replied, while the tumult was hushed and every ear expanded to catch the interesting intelligence, "I know of no battles that have been fought on the land or sea; but just before I left New York, intelligence was received that General Hull, the commander of the American forces on the frontiers, had surrendered his whole army to the enemy at Detroit, with all his guns, ammunition, and stores, WITHOUT FIRING A GUN!"
It is impossible to describe the scene which followed the announcement of this unexpected intelligence, the exultation of the British, and the mortification and wrath of the Americans. Hull was stigmatized by his country-men as the basest of cowards. Curses, both loud and deep, were heaped upon his hoary head. Had he been within the grasp of those who listened to the story of his shame, a host of armed Englishmen could not have saved him from the fury of the Yankees.
Occasionally an American privateer was seen in the offing; and the boldness, enterprise, and success of this class of vessels in crippling the commerce of Great Britain among the islands, created astonishment and indignation among the loyal subjects of "his majesty." Rumors were afloat every day sometimes false, but more frequently true of some deed of daring, or destruction of British property, committed in that quarter by American private-armed vessels.
One day, a small drogher arrived from the English island of Antigua, bringing as passengers four or five seamen, the only survivors of a terrible disaster which befell one of those privateers while cruising to the windward of Antigua. One of the men was boatswain of the vessel. The tale which he related was a sad one, and its correctness was confirmed by the deep emotion which the narrator and his shipmates manifested and by the tears they shed.
The captain of the privateer was a man of violent and ungovernable temper and drunken habits. He had a quarrel every day with some of his officers or some of his men; and one Sunday afternoon a wordy contest took place between the captain and his first lieutenant, both being well primed with alcohol. The language and conduct of the insulted officer was such as to provoke the captain to madness. He raged and raved, and at last struck his lieutenant, and gave peremptory orders to "put the rascal in irons."
On hearing this order given, but before it could be executed, the lieutenant seized a loaded pistol. Instead of shooting his brutal commander on the spot, he rushed down the steps into the after part of the vessel, and undoubtedly discharged his weapon among the powder in the magazine! A tremendous explosion followed, which blew the privateer to fragments, scattering the timbers and planks, and the legs, arms, and bodies of the crew, in every direction! The shrieks of the wounded, the struggles of the dying, and the spectacle of horrors which those men witnessed, made a lasting impression on their minds.
After having been on the water a few minutes, almost stunned by the explosion, the boatswain and some of his companions succeeded in constructing a raft from the floating planks; and after days of suffering and exposure, without food, and almost without clothing, the survivors were driven ashore on the island of Antigua, where they were kindly treated, and subsequently sent to St. Bartholomew, with the expectation that they would there find a chance to get to the United States.
Strictland and myself led the vagabond kind of life I have described for a couple of weeks. My purse was gradually growing lighter, and it became evident that we must soon find employment or starve. We formed various plans for improving our condition, neither of which proved practicable when put to the test. One of these was to proceed to Tortola, and join a band of strolling players that were perambulating the islands, and attracting admiration, if not money, by the excellence of their dramatic representations. Strictland, it seemed, besides having been a hanger-on at the "Fives Court," had served occasionally as a supernumerary at Covent Garden Theatre. He could sing almost any one of Dibdin's songs in imitation of Incledon, in a manner to astonish an audience; and he flattered my vanity by assuring me that I should make a decided hit before an intelligent audience as "Young Norval." But this project failed for want of means to carry us to the theatre of action.
One morning, while looking about the wharves, we learned that the brig Gustavus, a vessel under Swedish colors, supposed to belong to St. Bartholomew, was making preparations for a voyage to the United States. We lost no time in finding the captain of the brig, a chuckle-headed, crafty-looking native of Sweden, who had been long a resident of the West Indies. I represented our case in the most forcible language I could command; and already aware that some men will be more likely to do a kind act from motives of self-interest than the promptings of a benevolent heart, I told him we were anxious to proceed to the United states, and if he would promise us the privilege of working our passage, we would go on board forthwith and assist in taking in cargo and getting the brig ready for sea.
The captain listened to my eloquence with a good-natured smile and accepted our offer. He promised us a passage to some port in the United States if we would go on board the brig and work faithfully until she sailed. We abandoned our convenient, I had almost said luxurious lodgings beneath the boat on the beach, and, with my chest and what other baggage we possessed, joyfully transferred our quarters to the forecastle of the brig Gustavus.
We remained on board the brig about a fortnight, faithfully and steadily at work, stowing cargo, repairing and setting up the rigging, and bending sails. We congratulated ourselves, from time to time, on our good fortune in securing such a chance, after so much disappointment and delay.
But one morning I was alarmed at finding Strictland had been suddenly attacked with violent headache and other symptoms of fever. The mate gave him some medicine, but he continued unwell. In the afternoon the captain came on board, and after a conference with the mate, called me to the quarter-deck, and told me my companion was sick; that he did not like sick people; and the sooner I took him ashore, the better for all parties. "The brig," he continued, "is now ready for sea. I can find plenty of my countrymen who will go with me on the terms you offered, and of course I shall not give either of you a passage to America. If I should be overhauled by an English man-of-war while my crew is composed in part of Americans and Englishmen, my vessel will be seized and condemned. Therefore, you had better clear out at once, and take your sick friend along with you."
I was disgusted with the cold-blooded rascality of this man, who could thus, almost without a pretext, violate a solemn obligation when he could no longer be benefitted by its fulfilment.
"As for taking my friend ashore in his present condition," said I, "with no place in which to shelter him, and no means of procuring him medical advice or support, that is out of the question. He must remain where he now is until he recovers from his illness. But I will no longer trouble you with MY presence on board. I will gladly quit your vessel as soon as you pay me for the work I have done during the last fortnight."
"Work!!" said the skipper; "pay! I didn't agree to pay you for your work! You've got your food and lodging for your work. Not one single rix dollar will I pay you besides!" And the skipper kept his word.
After giving him, in very plain language, my opinion of his conduct, I went into the forecastle and had some conversation with Strictland. I found him more comfortable, and told him my determination not to sleep another night on board the brig, but that I would visit him the next morning. I called a boat alongside, and, swelling with indignation, went ashore. I proceeded immediately to an American clipper brig which was ready to sail for a port in the Chesapeake Bay. I represented to the captain the forlorn situation of myself and companion, and urged him to give us a passage to the United States. He listened patiently to my representations, but replied that he had already consented to receive a larger number of his distressed countrymen as passengers than he felt justified in doing, and that he had neither room nor provisions for any additional number. Seeing that I was greatly disappointed at his refusal of my application, he finally told me he would give ME a passage to America if I chose to go, but he would not take my companion. This was reasonable enough; but I could not think of abandoning Strictland, especially while he was sick and destitute, and resolved to forego this opportunity and wait for more propitious times. I was convinced that when I got to the bottom of Fortune's constantly revolving wheel, my circumstances must improve by the revolution, whichever way the wheel might turn.
Fatigued, disappointed, and indignant withal, as soon as the shades of evening fell I proceeded leisurely around the harbor to the beach on the opposite side of the bay, and again took possession of my comfortable lodgings beneath the boat. For hours I lay awake, reflecting on my awkward situation, and striving to devise some practicable means to overcome the difficulties by which I was surrounded.
I awoke at a somewhat late hour the next morning, and heard the unwonted sounds of the wind whistling and howling around my domicile. It was blowing a gale, the beginning of a hurricane. I hastened with eager steps to the other side of the harbor, where I found everything in confusion. The quays were thronged with people, and every man seemed busy. Boats were passing to and from the vessels, freighted with men to render assistance; carrying off cables and anchors, and in some cases, where the cargoes had been discharged, stone ballast, which was hastily thrown on the decks and thence transferred to the hold, fears being entertained that as the hurricane increased, the vessels in port might be forced from their anchors, and wrecked on the rocks at the entrance of the haven, or driven out into the Caribbean Sea.
The vessels were thickly moored, and cables already began to part and anchors to drag. Sloops, schooners, brigs, and ships got foul of each other. The "hardest fend off!" was the cry, and cracking work commenced; and what with the howling of the hurricane gusts as they swept down the mountain side, the angry roar of the short waves, so suddenly conjured up, as they dashed against the bows of the different vessels, the shouting of the seamen mooring or unmooring, the orders, intermingled with fierce oaths and threats, of the masters and mates as they exerted all their energies to avert impending disasters, the crashing of bulwarks, the destruction of cutwaters and bowsprits, and the demolition of spars, a scene of unusual character was displayed, which, to a person not a busy actor, was brim full of interest, and not destitute of sublimity.
The mate of the Gustavus, with a number of men, was employed in carrying off from the shore a cable and anchor, the small bower having parted at the beginning of the gale. The mate represented the situation of the brig as somewhat critical, and urged me to render assistance. Anxious to see Strictland, I acceded to his request. It was not long before we were under the bows of the brig. Men were engaged in carrying out the anchor ahead to haul her away from a cluster of vessels which were making sad havoc with her quarter rails, fashion pieces, and gingerbread work on the stern.
I entered the forecastle, shook hands with Strictland, whose health had greatly improved, with prospect of a speedy recovery, and bade him be of good cheer, that he would be well enough on the morrow. I threw on a chest my jacket and vest, containing what little money still remained on hand, and my "protection," and thus airily equipped, reckless of the clouds of mist and rain which at times enveloped the whole harbor, went on deck and turned to with a will, notwithstanding the scurvy treatment I had received from the captain the day before. When I reached the deck, some of the men were engaged in heaving in the new cable; others were just then called aft by the captain to assist in bearing off a sloop on one quarter and a schooner on the other, and in disengaging the rigging which had caught in the spars. The sloop had the appearance of a wreck. The laniards of the shrouds had been cut away on both sides, and the tall and tapering mast was quivering and bending like a whipstock, from the action of the wind and the waves. One of the cables, it was supposed, had parted; the sails, not having been properly furled, were fluttering and struggling, not altogether in vain, to get loose; and the deck on both sides was filled with shingle ballast, which had been brought from the shore early that morning, in the fear that the sloop might be driven out to sea, and had not been thrown into the hold.
The captain, mate, and crew of the sloop, finding their vessel in such a helpless condition, and entertaining wholesome fears for their own safety, ABANDONED THE SLOOP TO HER FATE, and embarked, with all their baggage, in the last boat that had brought off ballast. But with the last boat there came from the shore a young man, who, as supercargo, had charge of the vessel and cargo. Aware to some extent of the perilous condition of the sloop, he had been actively engaged during the morning in efforts to prepare his vessel to encounter the disasters incident to a hurricane. As he stepped on the deck of the sloop, and before the ballast had all been discharged from the boat, the officers and crew were eager for their departure. The captain urged the supercargo to accompany him on shore, and, when he refused, pointed out the desperate condition of the sloop, assuring him that in a few minutes that vessel, held by a single anchor, would break adrift and be wrecked on the rocks, when probably no individual could be saved.
The name of the supercargo was Bohun, a native of the "Emerald Isle." He peremptorily refused to quit the vessel, saying, as he stamped his foot on the deck, "Here I stand, determined to sink or swim with the sloop."
"Shove off!" exclaimed the captain; "it is useless to parley with a fool!"
At this moment the crew of the Gustavus were summoned aft to disengage the brig from the sloop, and the captain was issuing orders in his most effective style. "Bear off! Why don't you bear off! Cut away the laniards of those shrouds, and clear the main chainwales! Bring an axe here, and cut away that fore-stay which is foul of the main yard!"
Calling now to Bohun, who stood in the forward part of the sloop with a most rueful visage, the captain said, "Why don't you pay out cable, you lubber, and drop astern, clear of the brig?"
Bohun stood near the windlass, and his appearance struck me as being singularly interesting. He was dressed like a gentleman; wore a green frock coat and a white fur hat; but his garments were saturated with rain and the spray. He seemed resolute, nevertheless, and anxious to do something, but he knew not what to do. When roughly accosted by the captain of the brig, he replied, "If you'll send two or three men to help me, I will soon get the sloop clear of your vessel. My men have all deserted, and I can do nothing without assistance."
The captain of the Gustavus shook his head and his fist at the young Irishman, and discharged a double-headed oath at him, within point-blank shot. Nevertheless, Bohun continued, "If you will let me have one man, only ONE man, I may be able to save the sloop."
"One man!" replied the Swedish captain, screaming with passion, "how do you expect me to spare even one man, when my own vessel may strike adrift at any moment? Pay out cable, and be hanged to you! Pay out cable, and drop astern!" And he aimed another ferocious oath at the unfortunate supercargo.
Poor Bohun was no sailor. He hardly knew the difference between the cable and the cathead. He looked the picture of distress, almost of despair. But I, being under no obligations to the brutal captain of the brig, was at liberty to obey the impulse of my feelings. I stepped over the quarter rail, grasped the topmast stay of the sloop, swung myself on the jibboom, and in the space of a few seconds after the captain had concluded his maledictions I was standing on the sloop's forecastle, alongside of Bohun.