_Repairs from the Downs to London—Receives all his Arrears
of Pay—Indiscreet Expenditure—Personal Appearance and
Manners—Visits his Friends—Affecting Interview—Mental
Improvement—Superintends a Grocery Concern in Plymouth—
Marries—Commences Business for himself—Forms other
Engagements—Wreck of the Dutton East Indiaman—Employed
as a Diver on the occasion—Repairs to Wales—Sails in a
Privateer—Revisits Wales—Dangerous Passage—Returns
to Plymouth—Manages some Mines—Illness and Death—
Conclusion._
Thus far the narrative of this unfortunate adventurer has been written
by himself; and, with some trifling variations, the account has been
given in his own language, not only with respect to his personal
sufferings, and the fate of others, but as his details relate to the
capture and riches of Seringapatam. The remaining particulars have been
collected from the statements of his widow and son, and partially from
detached papers.
On landing at the Downs, Mr. Scurry and his companions repaired to
London, where the singularity of their dress, their manners, and their
colour, so far excited attention, that they were followed by troops of
boys, as objects of curiosity. On appealing to the proper authorities,
and giving proof of their identity, all arrears of pay, from the time of
their capture to their return, were instantly paid. Mr. Scurry also
obtained a pension of £7 per annum, which was continued for several
years. It was afterwards augmented to £18. which he retained through
life. Being thus amply supplied with cash, their prodigality increased
with their resources, and, like true British sailors, a considerable
portion was squandered away in thoughtless extravagance. On one
occasion, Mr. Scurry attended a sale, and laid out about forty pounds in
articles, of which he scarcely knew either the quantity, the use, or the
names. His lot was, however, packed up altogether, and forwarded to
Devonshire, to which place he also after some time repaired.
From his long confinement in India, and his involuntary conformity to
Asiatic manners, he had nearly forgotten the customs of his early years,
and the delicate refinements of his native land. To the wearing of
English clothes he felt the greatest aversion; nor could he even sit,
except according to the manner to which he had been so long accustomed.
Of a knife and fork he had almost lost the use, nor could he eat any
thing with comfort, only in the style to which stern necessity had
compelled him to submit. His language was broken and confused, having
lost nearly all its vernacular idiom. His body was disfigured with
scars; and his skin was likewise so deeply tinged with the heat of the
climate in which he had so long resided, and by the rays of the sun, to
which he had been so much exposed, that it was only a few shades removed
from black. It so nearly resembled the swarthy complexion of the
negroes, that he might have passed through Africa without being at all
noted for the singularity of his colour. These combined peculiarities
exposed him to several inconveniences, and brought upon him many an
eager gaze, and many a curious inquiry, and pointed observation.
On leaving London, he travelled by coach to Exeter, to visit his
friends, but stopping at an inn on the road to dine, instead of
conforming to the customs of his fellow-travellers, he followed those
which he had been obliged to adopt in Asia, to the no small amusement of
his companions, and the equal astonishment of the people belonging to
the house. His bones, offal, and rejected food, without ceremony were
thrown on the floor, no regard being paid either to company or carpets;
and when admonished of the impropriety of his conduct, his inattention
to the hints which were given, and perseverance in domestic
irregularity, only served to confirm those who witnessed his
singularities, that he was either deranged, or some foreigner totally
unacquainted with the refinements of civilized life. A British sailor,
however, in any disguise, if flowing with money, can easily make his
peace with a waiter at an inn, and metamorphose a frowning aspect into a
smiling countenance.
On reaching Exeter, he learned that his mother, and sister Dannan with
her husband, were living at Porlock. Thither he repaired; and, that he
might reach this place in a style suited to his purse, he entered it in
a chaise drawn by four horses, and drove immediately to their door.
Surprised at this equipage, his sister first appeared, of whom, on
putting his head out of the window, he inquired if Mrs. Scurry lived
there, and was within? He was answered, that this was the place of her
abode, but that just then she was not within. He then requested that she
might be called, but could scarcely restrain his impatience during the
absence of the messenger. On his mother’s arrival, he inquired whether
she had not a son in India? She replied, that she once had a son there,
but not having heard from him for many years, she concluded he was dead.
This latter was a point which he seemed to doubt, but his mother was not
to be dissuaded from a belief which she had so long indulged.
While this conversation was carrying on, his sister, Mrs. Dannan, who
was listening with much attention, and viewing this stranger with
eagerness, imagined that she could discover, amidst the scars of
conflict, the effects of an equinoctial sun, and the furrows of
distress, some remnants of features that had once been familiar. Full of
this persuasion, she hailed him as her long-lost brother, nor did he
keep her in any tedious suspense. His mother, however, was not so easily
convinced. She had concluded that her son was dead, and the appearance
of this stranger was not calculated to remove the unfavourable
impression. But the chaise and four being dismissed, his mother’s
unbelief gave way, and mutual recognition and joy succeeded to the
astonishment that had been excited.
Having, during his long absence, and the scenes of distress through
which he was called to pass, lost nearly all his European acquirements,
Mr. Scurry turned his attention to learning for nearly two years,
improving himself in writing and arithmetic, under the tuition of his
brother-in-law at Porlock. During this period, he made such proficiency,
as qualified him to engage in mercantile employment, in such departments
as might probably present themselves.
On quitting his brother-in-law, he repaired to Plymouth, and entered
into an engagement with Mr. Andrew Kinsman, a wholesale grocer of that
place, and superintended his business. With this gentleman, and another
named Harvey, he continued from about 1795 until 1799. He then took a
house in Frankfort Place, and commenced business as a grocer for
himself. In the following year he married, since which time he has had
eight children, of whom one son and one daughter only survive.
It is somewhat remarkable, that while he was engaged with Mr. Kinsman,
the Dutton, in which he had returned from India some years before, was
wrecked near Plymouth garrison, and sunk. The hull, lying under water,
was purchased by Mr. Kinsman and a Mr. Andrew Snow; and as Mr. Scurry
was an excellent swimmer, and perhaps at that time the best diver in
England, he offered his services to assist them in endeavouring to
rescue all that they could find from the wreck, which lay about three
fathoms under water. After much hesitation, they consented that he
should make a trial. A day was accordingly appointed, when, amidst
numbers of spectators, he succeeded in hooking some pigs of ballast, and
part of her timbers, thus at once gratifying their eager curiosity, and
the anxious expectations of his employers. This attempt was made a few
months after she sunk. Finding, however, after several ineffectual
efforts, that nothing of considerable value was likely to be obtained,
the remains were sold, about two years afterwards, to a Mr. Joseph, a
rich Jew, for ten pounds. As soon as this transfer took place, Mr.
Scurry received a polite note from the new purchaser, requesting him to
try once more to rescue something from the sunken ship. With this
request he complied; but on his descent, he found that the Dutton was
now five fathoms beneath the surface of the water. In this attempt he
succeeded in bringing up some of her copper sheathing, and some timber;
but the former was so corroded, and the latter so much decayed, that no
encouragement was held out to perseverance. Her guns were by this time
sunk in the sand; and as nothing promised to reward their exertions, all
further efforts were abandoned.
Mr. Scurry continued his business as a grocer on his own account, from
1799 until 1804, when, on an application being made by Messrs. Fuge and
Langmead, spirit merchants, of Plymouth, to travel for their house, he
surrendered the management of his own concerns to his wife, still taking
orders for goods as he prosecuted his journeys. In this situation he
continued from 1804 to 1812, when, on discovering some irregularities,
he quitted their employment, and formed an engagement with a Mr. Slade,
of Plymouth, under whom he went to Swansea to manage a colliery. Shortly
afterwards, Mr. Slade having fitted out a privateer to cruise in the Bay
of Biscay, and knowing Mr. Scurry to be both expert and enterprising in
maritime affairs, he sent for him to go out as steward, and to keep a
watchful eye over the concerns of the vessel. Accordingly, in the year
1813, he repaired again to Plymouth, and sailed in the Cerberus
privateer, commanded by Captain Tregotheth. He continued in this vessel
about four months, during which time they took one prize, for his share
of which he received £18. Returning from their cruise, they put into
Fowey, in Cornwall, where he received a letter from Mr. Slade, stating
that his son, James Scurry, was then on the point of death, and having a
particular desire to see his father, requested his immediate attendance
for a day or two. In consequence of this letter, he hastened to
Plymouth, where he arrived on the 12th of April, 1813; and his son died
on the 24th. Scarcely had he left the vessel, before the captain,
without receiving any orders, again put to sea, and, on the day after he
left Fowey, the Cerberus was captured by a French privateer, and carried
to France.
In 1814, he again went to Swansea, under Mr. Slade, and on their voyage
from Ilfracombe to Wales the vessel was nearly lost. In the midst of
their distress, the captain grew dispirited, and the panic was
communicated to the passengers and the men. In this emergency, Mr.
Scurry’s native energies were all called into action, and such was the
confidence which his example and precepts inspired, that they were
roused from their lethargy, and, by unremitting exertions, succeeded in
reaching the port. Having, in the course of his journeys, discovered
some clay of a very superior quality, he visited Worcester, London, and
some other places, with a design to procure a market, but the supplies
of clay being more abundant than the demand for porcelain, his efforts
proved unsuccessful. Early in 1815, he again returned to Plymouth, and
once more engaged himself with Messrs. Langmeads, Mr. Fuge being now no
longer connected with the concern. Here he continued until the death of
Mr. John Langmead, when, being in want of a situation, he repaired to
London early in 1816, and engaged himself at a coal wharf, where he
continued about three years.
Having obtained some knowledge of mining, he was several times sent into
his native county by the adventurers, to inspect various works in which
they had become speculators. During these journeys he was occasionally
exposed to the inclemencies of winter, which in all probability sapped
the foundation of a strong constitution, that had so long sustained the
rigour of the torrid zone. In the autumn of 1822, being on a journey to
Devonshire, to superintend a mine in the neighbourhood of Buckfastleigh,
he took a severe cold, by which he was laid up at Exeter. This was
followed by an inflammation, and this was succeeded by a mortification,
of which he died, aged 57, at the house of his sister Dannan, whose
husband being a port-gauger of that city, had removed thither some years
before. He was buried at St. Thomas’s, near Exeter, December 14th, 1822.
In justice to the memory of Mr. Scurry, it ought to be stated, that for
a considerable time prior to his death, his mind had received serious
impressions, which his subsequent conduct proved to be both deep and
lasting. This circumstance gives an additional weight to the truth of
his narrative—a narrative that might be deemed incredible from the
miseries which it records, were it not supported by strong internal
evidence, and corroborated by numerous testimonies drawn from the same
unhappy source. To the eye of cool and dispassionate reflection, the
world presents a spectacle of devastation and horror. Innumerable
miseries arise from physical causes, and the present disordered state of
things; and these, unhappily, are at once augmented and eclipsed by
national hostilities, and the contentions of ambition for empire in
fields of blood.
War is a monster, of which the portrait cannot be drawn in miniature.
The shocks which the roaring of its cannon occasions in Europe, are felt
in the interior of India; and its visits to the kingdoms of Asia are
more terrible to the inhabitants than the irruptions of the lions and
tigers which roam through their forests, or couch in their jungles. Its
inhumanities and massacres extend from the cottage to the throne, and
involve in one common destruction the despot and the slave. Of the
desolations which it occasions, enough is known to excite the abhorrence
and execration of mankind; but that innumerable instances of its
barbarities lie concealed in impenetrable obscurity, we may reasonably
infer from the mournful cases that are accidentally brought to light.
The death of the victim seals up, in perpetual silence, the history of
his sufferings; and even those tales of horror that are rescued from
oblivion, can do little more than extort the sigh of commiseration, and
urge humanity to shed her tears. The biography of James Scurry is an
instance of this description. It merits preservation by its simplicity,
and cannot fail to recompense the reader by the interesting facts which
it records. It is one of those tales which presents its claims alike to
justice and compassion; and the writer of these paragraphs feels much
gratification in having made this effort to transmit the memorial of his
sufferings to posterity.