Weeks passed, and I remained in Liverpool. I had called several times at
the consulate, and each time met with the same ungracious reception. I
could never see the consul, and began to regard him as a myth. I did not
then know that every time I called he was seated at his comfortable
desk in a room elegantly furnished, which was entered from the ante-room
occupied by his clerks. Nor could I get any satisfactory information
from the well-dressed Englishman, his head clerk. I ventured to ask that
gentleman one day if Captain Bacon had not left money with Mr. Maury
for my benefit. But he seemed astonished at my audacity in imagining the
possibility of such a thing.
After the lapse of three weeks, a messenger came to my boarding house
with directions for me to appear at the consulate the next morning at
nine o'clock precisely. Full of hope, overjoyed that some change was
about to take place in my destiny, I impatiently awaited the hour in
which I was to present myself at the office of the American consul,
hoping to have an interview with that dignitary. By this time I had
thrown aside my crutches, and, although owing to the weakness of my
fractured limb I limped as ungracefully as the swarthy deity who, after
being kicked out of heaven, set up his blacksmith's shop in the Isle
of Lemnos, I managed, with the aid of a stout cane, to pass through the
streets without difficulty.
When I reached the counting room of the consul, I found the everlasting
clerk at his post, as unfeeling, as authoritative, and haughty as ever.
He addressed me at once as follows: "You will go directly to Queen's
Dock; find the ship Lady Madison of New York, and put this letter into
the hands of Captain Swain. He will give you a passage to New York,
where you must take care of yourself. The ship will sail in a day or
two. Be sure to be on board when the ship leaves the dock."
I regretted that a passage had not been provided in a vessel going
directly to Boston. Ships were leaving Liverpool every day for that
place. Nevertheless, I took the letter with a good grace, told the clerk
I was rejoiced at such good news; that I was as much pleased at the
idea of leaving Liverpool as he could possibly be at getting rid of my
complaints. But I suggested that I was not in a condition to WORK
MY PASSAGE as was proposed, at that inclement season, unless I was
furnished with some additional clothing, a pea-jacket, a blanket, and
a pair of boots or shoes; and I pointed to the shoes on my feet, which
were little better than a pair of very shabby sandals.
The little deputy listened with impatience to my suggestions. He then
wrote something on a slip of paper. "Here," said he, "is an order for
a pair of shoes; and it is all you will get! A pea-jacket is out of the
question; and as for blankets, I suppose you'll find enough on board.
Captain Swain will take care of you. Your passage will not be a long one
only thirty or forty days. I dare say you will live through it; if not,
there will be no great loss!" And conscious that he had said a good
thing, he looked at his fellow-clerks and smiled.
I felt indignant at such treatment, but wisely refrained from giving
utterance to my feelings, and proceeded directly to the Queen's Dock,
where I found Captain Swain, and handed him the letter. He read it,
crumpled it up and put it in his pocket, and then stared fixedly at me,
exclaiming, "Well, this is a pretty business! What does the consul
mean by sending such a chap as YOU home in my ship? Are there not ships
enough in port to take you home without singling out mine?"
To this question I could give no satisfactory answer, nor is it probable
he expected one. After a further ebullition of wrath he honored me with
another stare, surveyed me from head to foot, and with an air rather
rude than polite, gruffly remarked, "Well, I suppose I must take you,
and make the best of it. The ship will sail the day after tomorrow;"
and he turned away, muttering something I could not distinctly hear, but
which I suspect was not complimentary to myself or the American consul.
I returned to my boarding house, and gladdened the master and mistress
with the intelligence that the consul had at last found a ship to
take me to the united States. I packed in my chest the few articles my
shipmates had considerately left me, not forgetting the pair of shoes
which the mild-mannered and compassionate consular clerk had given me,
and made my appearance, a most unwelcome guest, on the deck of the Lady
Madison, as the ship was hauling out of dock. And thus, without articles
of clothing necessary to supply my actual wants; without bed or bedding;
destitute of "small stores," as tea, coffee, sugar, etc, which were not
furnished the sailors, they receiving a certain sum of money instead
and supplying themselves, deprived of the little comforts which even the
most unthrifty seamen will provide on a passage across the Atlantic; the
victim, not of imprudence or vice, but of misfortune; after a tedious and
unnecessary delay, I was sent, a stranger, against whom the captain
and officers were unjustly prejudiced, and, in a crippled condition, on
board a ship to work my passage to my native land! And this was done by
the orders and authority of a man who was bound by his official duties
to render all necessary and reasonable relief to Americans in distress!
Were this a solitary instance of the kind I should hardly indulge in a
passing remark. But I have reason to believe that such cases, caused by
the inhumanity or culpable neglect of American consuls in foreign ports,
are not uncommon. If such proceedings take place under the eye
and authority and apparent sanction of a man of high character and
acknowledged worth, what may we not expect from consuls of a different
character; from men who never knew a noble impulse; whose bosoms never
throbbed with one generous feeling?
Our government is not sufficiently circumspect in the appointment of
consuls. The office is an important one, and should be given to men
capable of faithfully executing the duties. It cannot be properly
filled by persons whose time is engrossed by business of their own,
by political partisans, or men who have no practical knowledge of
mercantile affairs. American consuls should also be supposed to have
some sympathy with every class of American citizens, and capable of
enjoying satisfaction in relieving the sufferings of a fellow-creature.
All consular fees should be abolished, and the consul should receive
from the government a yearly compensation, graduated on the importance
of his duties.
The Lady Madison was considered a large ship, being four hundred and
fifty tons burden. She belonged to Jacob Barker, now a resident of
New Orleans, but who was at that time in the zenith of his mercantile
prosperity, and the owner of ships trading to all parts of the globe.
Captain Swain was a native and resident of Nantucket, an excellent
sailor and a worthy man; and the ship was navigated by a crew composed
mostly of young and active Americans. The Lady Madison had sailed from
Cronstadt bound to New York, but met with disasters which compelled her
to put into Liverpool for repairs.
On joining the Lady Madison I found there was a very natural but unjust
prejudice existing against me on the part of the officers, which it
would be difficult to overcome. I was thrust on board by the consul
against their wishes, and was entitled to ship room and ship's
fare, which was reluctantly granted. I must, however, admit that my
appearance, with a costume of the "Persian" cut, pale and sickly
visage and a halting gait, an air of dejection caused by misfortune and
diffidence, was not prepossessing, but verged strongly on the vagabond
order. It is, therefore, not surprising that when I stepped on deck I
was looked upon as an intruder, and instead of being greeted with smiles
and words of encouragement, of which I was greatly in need, received
looks which would have chilled an icicle, and frowns which made me feel
all my insignificance.
I should probably have found little sympathy among the sailors had I
not met among them an old acquaintance. A young man named Giddings, on
hearing my name mentioned, regarded me with a degree of interest that
surprised me. After staring at me a few minutes, he inquired if I had
not once lived in Rockingham county, New Hampshire. On my replying in
the affirmative, he introduced himself as an old schoolmate, a native
of Exeter, from which, having chosen a sailor's life, he had been absent
for years.
I rejoiced at finding a friend, and soon realized the truth of the
good old proverb, "a friend in need is a friend indeed." Through his
influence and representation the crew were disposed to look upon me in
a favorable light. He gave me the privilege of using his berth and his
blankets during my watch below; he loaned me a monkey jacket in stormy
weather, and shared with me his "small stores," of which he had a good
supply. More than all this, he encouraged me to keep a stout heart and
"stiff upper lip," assuring me that all would come right in the end. Had
it not been for that kind-hearted young man, my condition on board the
ship must have been wretched. I have often witnessed the disgraceful
fact, that when a man is DOWN every one seems determined TO KEEP HIM
DOWN! If a poor fellow received a kick from fortune, every man he meets
with will give him another kick for that very reason!
Captain Swain never deigned to notice me in any way, and the chief mate
followed his example so far as was practicable. The second mate's name
was Cathcart. He was man of inferior capacity, ignorant, and coarse. As
I was looked upon as a sort of "black sheep" in the flock, and was in
the second mate's watch, that officer imagined he could, with impunity,
make me a target for his vulgar jokes, and practised on me a line of
conduct which he dared not practice on others. A day or two after we left
Liverpool, he took occasion, when several of the crew were standing by,
to make my rather quaint NAME the subject of some offensive remarks.
My indignation was roused at such ungentlemanly conduct, and I retorted
with a degree of bitterness as well as imprudence that surprised myself
as well as others.
"My name?" said I; "you object to MY name! Look at home! My name is a
quiet name, a sensible name, surrounded with pleasant associations,
and easily spoken, which is more than can be said of yours.
Ca-a-th-ca-r-r-t! There is neither sense, meaning, nor beauty in that
name. Why," continued I, making strange grimaces, "one cannot speak
it without twisting the mouth into kinks and cuckold's necks without
number. Ca-a-th-c-a-a-rt! I would sooner be called Tantarabogus."
This turned the laugh against him. He made no reply, but no longer
annoyed me with his coarse jokes, and the respectable epithet of
"Tantarabogus" stuck to him until our arrival in New York.
The ship Lady Madison left Liverpool about the 17th of March, 1812. The
wind had been blowing a long time from the westward, with occasional
gales which prevented vessels from getting to sea; and we sailed in
company with a large fleet of merchant ships at the commencement of a
change of wind. We left the Mersey with a fine breeze and soon passed
the headmost vessels in the fleet. Our ship was large, a fine model,
newly coppered, well provided with sails, and having left part of her
cargo in Liverpool was in good ballast trim, and slipped through the
water like a fish.
For eight days this easterly wind continued, the ship sometimes carrying
top-gallant sails and a fore-topmast studding sail, and sometimes
running directly before the wind under double-reefed topsails and
foresail, progressing at the rate of ten, eleven, and eleven and a half
knots. Chronometers were unknown in those days, and lunar observations,
owing to the cloudy weather and other causes, could not be taken
during the passage. It is, therefore, not remarkable that under the
circumstances, and with a heavy sea following the ship, the judgment of
the navigators was at fault and the ship overran her reckoning.
On the eighth day after the Lady Madison left the dock, the atmosphere
being hazy and the temperature unusually cool, I was standing on the lee
side of the forecastle when something afar off on the bow caught my eye.
It looked like a massive fortress on a mountain rock of crystal. Its
appearance, different from anything I had ever seen on the ocean,
excited my wonder. Could it be a cloud? I pointed it out to one of my
watchmates, who, being familiar with such appearances, instantly called
out, "Ice, ho!"
There was a commotion throughout the ship. "Ice!" exclaimed the captain,
rushing up the companion-way, spyglass in hand. "Ice! Where-away? 'Tis
impossible! We cannot be near the Grand Bank!"
The ice island was now clearly perceptible, looming up through the thin
fog, "a fixed fact," which could not be shaken. We were on the eastern
edge of the Bank of Newfoundland. In eight days the ship had run nearly
two thousand miles. Although this may not be considered a remarkable
feat for a modern clipper of giant proportions, it was an instance of
fast sailing and favorable breezes seldom exceeded in those days.
Had the wind continued unchanged in strength or direction after we
reached the Bank, we should have made the passage to New York in
twelve days. But its force was spent. Instead of feeling grateful and
expressing satisfaction at such a noble run, the captain, and I believe
every man on board, as is usual in such cases, grumbled intolerably
when the change took place! Head winds and calms prevailed, and ten days
elapsed before we greeted the highlands of Neversink. We passed inside
of Sandy Hook on the 4th of April 1812, having made a passage of
eighteen days from Liverpool to anchorage off the Battery!
While beating through the narrows we passed the ship Honestus, which
sailed from Liverpool about forty days before the Lady Madison left that
port, and had been battling with head winds the whole distance across
the Atlantic.