“In February, 1851, I engaged to serve as cook on board the barque
_Madeira_, of Glasgow, Captain J. Douglas, on her voyage from
Glasgow to California, thence to China, and thence home to a port of
discharge in the United Kingdom. I signed articles, and delivered up
my register-ticket as a British seaman, as required by law. I entered
the service on board the said vessel, under the said engagement, and
sailed with that vessel on the 18th of February, 1851. I discharged
my duty as cook on board the said vessel, from the date of its having
left the Clyde, until June the same year, in which month the vessel
rounded Cape Horne, at that time my legs became frost bitten, and I
became in consequence unfit for duty.
“In the course of the next day after my limbs became affected, the
master of the vessel, and mate, took me to the ship’s oven, in order,
as they said, to cure me; the oven was hot at the time, a fowl that
was roasting therein having been removed in order to make room for my
feet, which was put into the oven; in consequence of the treatment, my
feet burst through the intense swelling, and mortification ensued.
“The vessel called, six weeks after, at Valpariso, and I was there
taken to an hospital, where I remained five months and a half. Both my
legs were amputated three inches below my knees soon after I went to
the hospital at Valpariso. I asked my master for my wages due to me,
for my service on board the vessel, and demanded my register-ticket;
when the captain told me I should not recover, that the vessel could
not wait for me, and that I was a dead man, and that he could not
discharge a dead man; and that he also said, that as I had no friends
there to get my money, he would only put a little money into the
hands of the consul, which would be applied in burying me. On being
discharged from the hospital I called on the consul, and was informed
by him that master had not left any money.
“I was afterwards taken on board one of her Majesty’s ships, the
_Driver_, Captain Charles Johnston, and landed at Portsmouth; from
thence I got a passage to Glasgow, ware I remained three months.
Upon supplication to the register-office for seamen, in London, my
register-ticket has been forwarded to the Collector of Customs,
Glasgow; and he is ready to deliver it to me upon obtaining the
authority of the Justices of the Peace, and I recovered the same under
the 22nd section of the General Merchant Seaman’s Act. Declares I
cannot write.
“(Signed) DAVID MACKINLAY, J. P.
“The Justices having considered the foregoing information and
declaration, finds that Edward Albert, therein named the last-register
ticket, sought to be covered under circumstances which, so far as
he was concerned, were unavoidable, and that no fraud was intended
or committed by him in reference thereto, therefore authorised the
Collector and Comptroller of Customs at the port of Glasgow to deliver
to the said Edward Albert the register-ticket, sought to be recovered
by him all in terms of 22nd section of the General Merchant Seamen’s
Act.
“(Signed) DAVID MACKINLAY, J. P.
“Glasgow, Oct. 6th, 1852.
“Register Ticket, No. 512, 652, age 25 years.”
“I could make a large book of my sufferings, sir, if I liked,” he said,
“and I will disgrace the owners of that ship as long as they don’t give
me what they owe me.
“I will never leave England or Scotland until I get my rights; but
they says money makes money, and if I had money I could get it. If
they would only give me what they owe me, I wouldn’t ask anybody for a
farthing, God knows, sir. I don’t know why the master put my feet in
the oven; he said to cure me: the agony of pain I was in was such, he
said, that it must be done.
“The loss of my limbs is bad enough, but it’s still worse when you
can’t get what is your rights, nor anything for the sweat that they
worked out of me.
“After I went down to Glasgow for my money I opened a little
coffee-house; it was called ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’ I did very well. The
man who sold me tea and coffee said he would get me on, and I had
better give my money to him to keep safe, and he used to put it away
in a tin box which I had given four-and-sixpence for. He advertised my
place in the papers, and I did a good business. I had the place open a
month, when he kept all my savings--two-and-forty pounds--and shut up
the place, and denied me of it, and I never got a farthing.
“I declare to you I can’t describe the agony I felt when my legs were
burst; I fainted away over and over again. There was four men came; I
was lying in my hammock, and they moved the fowl that was roasting,
and put my legs in the oven. There they held me for ten minutes. They
said, it would take the cold out; but after I came out the cold caught
’em again, and the next day they swole up as big round as a pillar, and
burst, and then like water come out. No man but God knows what I have
suffered and went through.
“By the order of the doctor at Valparaiso, the sick patients had to
come out of the room I went into; the smell was so bad I couldn’t
bear it myself--it was all mortification--they had to use chloride
o’ zinc to keep the smell down. They tried to save one leg, but the
mortification was getting up into my body. I got better after my legs
were off.
“I was three months good before I could turn, or able to lift up my
hand to my head. I was glad to move after that time, it was a regular
relief to me; if it wasn’t for good attendance, I should not have
lived. You know they don’t allow tobaccer in a hospital, but I had it;
it was the only thing I cared for. The Reverend Mr. Armstrong used to
bring me a pound a fortnight; he used to bring it regular. I never used
to smoke before; they said I never should recover, but after I got the
tobaccer it seemed to soothe me. I was five months and a half in that
place.
“Admiral Moseley, of the _Thetis_ frigate, sent me home; and the reason
why he sent me home was, that after I came well, I called on Mr.
Rouse, the English consul, and he sent me to the boarding-house, till
such time as he could find a ship to send me home in. I was there about
two months, and the boarding-master, Jan Pace, sent me to the consul.
“I used to get about a little, with two small crutches, and I also had
a little cart before that, on three wheels; it was made by a man in the
hospital. I used to lash myself down in it. That was the best thing I
ever had--I could get about best in that.
“Well, I went to the consul, and when I went to him, he says, ‘I can’t
pay your board; you must beg and pay for it;’ so I went and told Jan
Pace, and he said, ‘If you had stopped here a hundred years, I would
not turn you out;’ and then I asked Pace to tell me where the Admiral
lived. ‘What do you want with him?’ says he. I said, ‘I think the
Admiral must be higher than the consul.’ Pace slapped me on the back.
Says he, ‘I’m glad to see you’ve got the pluck to complain to the
Admiral.’
“I went down at nine o’clock the next morning, to see the Admiral. He
said, ‘Well, Prince Albert, how are you getting on?’ So I told him I
was getting on very bad; and then I told him all about the consul; and
he said, as long as he stopped he would see me righted, and took me on
board his ship, the _Thetis_; and he wrote to the consul, and said to
me, ‘If the consul sends for you, don’t you go to him; tell him you
have no legs to walk, and he must walk to you.’
“The consul wanted to send me back in a merchant ship, but the Admiral
wouldn’t have it, so I came in the _Driver_, one of Her Majesty’s
vessels. It was the 8th of May, 1852, when I got to Portsmouth.
“I stopped a little while--about a week--in Portsmouth. I went to the
Admiral of the dockyard, and he told me I must go to the Lord Mayor of
London. So I paid my passage to London, saw the Lord Mayor, who sent
me to Mr. Yardley, the magistrate, and he advertised the case for me,
and I got four pounds fifteen shillings, besides my passage to Glasgow.
After I got there, I went to Mr. Symee a Custom-house officer (he’d
been in the same ship with me to California); he said, ‘Oh, gracious,
Edward, how have you lost your limbs!’ and I burst out a crying. I told
him all about it. He advised me to go to the owner. I went there; but
the policeman in London had put my name down as Robert Thorpe, which
was the man I lodged with; so they denied me.
“I went to the shipping office, where they reckonised me; and I went
to Mr. Symee again, and he told me to go before the Lord Mayor (a Lord
Provost they call him in Scotland), and make an affidavit; and so, when
they found my story was right, they sent to London for my seaman’s
ticket; but they couldn’t do anything, because the captain was not
there.
“When I got back to London, I commenced sweeping the crossin’, sir. I
only sweep it in the winter, because I can’t stand in the summer. Oh,
yes, I feel my feet still: it is just as if I had them sitting on the
floor, now. I feel my toes moving, like as if I had ’em. I could count
them, the whole ten, whenever I work my knees. I had a corn on one of
my toes, and I can feel it still, particularly at the change of weather.
“Sometimes I might get two shillings a-day at my crossing, sometimes
one shilling and sixpence, sometimes I don’t take above sixpence. The
most I ever made in one day was three shillings and sixpence, but
that’s very seldom.
“I am a very steady man. I don’t drink what money I get; and if I had
the means to get something to do, I’d keep off the streets.
“When I offered to go to the parish, they told me to go to Scotland, to
spite the men who owed me my wages.
“Many people tell me I ought to go to my country; but I tell them it’s
very hard--I didn’t come here without my legs--I lost them, as it were,
in this country; but if I had lost them in my own country, I should
have been better off. I should have gone down to the magistrate every
Friday, and have taken my ten shillings.
“I went to the Merchant Seaman’s Fund, and they said that those who
got hurted before 1852 have been getting the funds, but those who were
hurted after 1852 couldn’t get nothing--it was stopped in ’51, and the
merchants wouldn’t pay any more, and don’t pay any more.
“That’s scandalous, because, whether you’re willing or not, you must
pay two shillings a-month (one shilling a-month for the hospital fees,
and one shilling a-month to the Merchant Seaman’s Fund), out of your
pay.
“I am married: my wife is the same colour as me, but an Englishwoman.
I’ve been married two years. I married her from where she belonged, in
Leeds. I couldn’t get on to do anything without her. Sometimes she goes
out and sells things--fruit, and so on--but she don’t make much. With
the assistance of my wife, if I could get my money, I would set up in
the same line of business as before, in a coffee-shop. If I had three
pounds I could do it: it took well in Scotland. I am not a common cook,
either; I am a pastrycook. I used to make all the sorts of cakes they
have in the shops. I bought the shapes, and tins, and things to make
them proper.
“I’ll tell you how I did--there was a kind of apparatus; it boils water
and coffee, and the milk and the tea, in different departments; but you
couldn’t see the divisions--the pipes all ran into one tap, like. I’ve
had a sixpence and a shilling for people to look at it: it cost me two
pound ten.
“Even if I had a coffee-stall down at Covent-garden, I should do; and,
besides, I understand the making of eel-soup. I have one child,--it is
just three months and a week old. It is a boy, and we call it James
Edward Albert. James is after my grandfather, who was a slave.
“I was a little boy when the slaves in Jamaica got their freedom: the
people were very glad to be free; they do better since, I know, because
some of them have got property, and send their children to school.
There’s more Christianity there than there is here. The public-house is
close shut on Saturday night, and not opened till Monday morning. No
fruit is allowed to be sold in the street. I am a Protestant. I don’t
know the name of the church, but I goes down to a new-built church,
near King’s-cross. I never go in, because of my legs; but I just go
inside the door; and sometimes when I don’t go, I read the Testament
I’ve got here: in all my sickness I took care of that.
“There are a great many Irish in this place. I would like to get away
from it, for it is a very disgraceful place,--it is an awful, awful
place altogether. I haven’t been in it very long, and I want to get out
of it; it is not fit.
“I pay one-and-sixpence rent. If you don’t go out and drink and carouse
with them, they don’t like it; they make use of bad language--they
chaff me about my misfortune--they call me ‘Cripple;’ some says ‘Uncle
Tom,’ and some says ‘Nigger;’ but I never takes no notice of ’em at
all.”
* * * * *
The following is a verbatim copy of the placard which the poor fellow
places before him when he begs. He carries it, when not in use, in a
little calico bag which hangs round his neck:--