The air no more was vital now,
But did a mortal poison grow.
The lungs, which used to fan the heart,
Served only now to fire each part;
What should refresh, increased the smart.
And now their very breath,
The chiefest sign of life, became the cause of death!
SPRAT, BISHOP OF ROCHESTER.
The _Aspasia_ did not drop her anchor in Carlisle Bay until three weeks
after the arrival of the frigate which brought up Courtenay and the
prize crew; but she had not been idle, having three valuable prizes,
which she had captured in company. Courtenay immediately repaired on
board of his ship, to report to Captain M--- the circumstances which had
occurred connected with the loss of his five men. He was too honourable
to attempt to disguise or palliate the facts: on the contrary, he laid
all the blame upon himself; and enhanced the merits of the two
midshipmen. Captain M---, who admired his ingenuous confession,
contented himself with observing that he trusted it would be a caution
to him during his future career in the service. To Seymour and Jerry he
said nothing, as he was afraid that the latter would presume upon
commendation; but he treasured up their conduct in his memory, and
determined to lose no opportunity that might offer to reward them.
Courtenay descended to the gun-room, where he was warmly greeted by his
messmates, who crowded round him to listen to his detail of the attempt
to recapture.
"Well," observed Price, "it appears we have had a narrow chance of
losing a messmate."
"Narrow chance lose two, sar," replied Billy Pitts; "you forgit, sar, I
on board schooner!"
"Oh, Billy, are you there? How does the dictionary come on?"
"Come on well, sar; I make a _corundum_ on Massa Doctor, when on board
schooner."
"Made a what?--a corundum! What can that be?"
"It ought to be something devilish hard," observed Courtenay.
"Yes, sar, debblish hard find out. Now, sar,--Why Massa Macallan like a
general?"
"I'm sure I can't tell. We give it up, Billy."
"Then, sar, I tell you. Because he _'feelossifer_."
"Bravo, Billy!--Why, you'll write a book soon. By the bye, Macallan, I
must not forget to thank you for the loan of that gentleman: he has made
himself very useful, and behaved very well."
"Really, Massa Courtenay, I tought I not give you satisfaction."
"Why so, Billy?"
"Because, sar, you never give me present--not one dollar."
"He has you there," said Price; "you must fork out."
"Not a rap--the nigger had perquisites. I saw the English merchants
give him a handful of dollars, before they left the vessel."
"Ah! they real gentlemen, Massa Capon and Massa --- dam um name--I
forgot."
"And what am I, then, you black thief?"
"Oh! you, sar, you very fine officer," replied Billy, quitting the
gun-room.
Courtenay did not exactly like the answer--but there was nothing to lay
hold of. As usual, when displeased, he referred to his snuff-box,
muttering something, in which the word "annoying" could only be
distinguished.
The breeze from the windsail blew some of the snuff out of the box into
the eyes of Macallan.
"I wish to Heaven you would be more careful, Courtenay," cried the
surgeon, in an angry tone, and stamping with the pain.
"I really beg your pardon," replied Courtenay, "snuffing's a vile
habit,--I wish I could leave it off."
"So do your messmates," replied the surgeon: "I cannot imagine what
pleasure there can be in a practice in itself so nasty, independent of
the destruction of the olfactory powers."
"It's exactly for that reason that I take snuff; I am convinced that I
am a gainer by the loss of the power of smell."
"I consider it ungrateful, if not wicked, to say so," replied the
surgeon, gravely. "The senses were given to us as a source of
enjoyment."
"True, doctor," answered Courtenay, mimicking the language of Macallan;
"and if I were a savage in the woods, there could not be a sense more
valuable, or affording so much gratification, as the one in question. I
should rise with the sun, and inhale the fragrance of the shrubs and
flowers, offered up in grateful incense to their Creator, and I should
stretch myself under the branches of the forest tree, as evening closed,
and enjoy the faint perfume with which they wooed the descending
moisture after exhaustion from the solar heat. But in civilised
society, where men and things are packed too closely together, the case
is widely different: for one pleasant, you encounter twenty offensive
smells; and of all the localities for villainous compounds, a ship is
indubitably the worst. I therefore patronise `'baccy,' which, I
presume, was intended for our use, or it would not have been created."
"But not for our abuse."
"Ah! there's the rock that we all split upon--and I, with others, must
plead guilty. The greatest difficulty in this world is, to know when
and where to stop. Even a philosopher like yourself cannot do it. You
allow your hypothesis to whirl in your brain, until it forms a vortex
which swallows up everything that comes within its influence. A modern
philosopher, with his hypothesis, is like a man possessed with a devil
in times of yore; and it is not to be cast out by any human means, that
I know of."
"As you please," replied Macallan, laughing; "I only deprecated a bad
habit."
"An hypothesis is only a habit,--a habit of looking through a glass of
one peculiar colour, which imparts its hue to all around it. We are but
creatures of habit. Luxury is nothing more than contracting fresh
habits, and having the means of administering to them--_ergo_, doctor,
the more habits you have to gratify, the more luxuries you possess. You
luxuriate in the contemplation of nature--Price in quoting, or trying to
quote, Shakespeare--Billy Pitts in his dictionary--I in my snuff-box;
and surely we may all continue to enjoy our harmless propensities,
without interfering with each other: although I must say, that those
still-born quotations of our messmate Price are most tryingly annoying."
"And so is a pinch of snuff in the eye, I can assure you," replied
Macallan.
"Granted; but we must `give and take,' doctor."
"In the present case, I don't care how much you take, provided you don't
give," rejoined Macallan, recovering his good humour.
A messenger from Captain M---, who desired to speak with Macallan, put
an end to the conversation.
"Mr Macallan," said Captain M---, when the surgeon came into the cabin
to receive his commands, "I am sorry to find, from letters which I have
received, that the yellow fever is raging in the other islands in a most
alarming manner, and that it has been communicated to the squadron on
the station. I am sorry to add, that I have received a letter from the
governor here, informing me that it has made its appearance at the
barracks. I am afraid that we have little chance of escaping so general
a visitation. As it is impossible to put to sea, even if my orders were
not decisive to the contrary, are there not some precautions which ought
to be taken?"
"Certainly, sir. It will be prudent to fumigate the lower deck; it has
already been so well ventilated and whitewashed, that nothing else can
be done; we must hope for the best."
"I do so," replied Captain M---; "but my hope is mingled with anxious
apprehensions, which I cannot control. We must do all we can, and leave
the rest to Providence."
The fears of Captain M--- were but too well grounded. For some days, no
symptoms of infection appeared on board of the _Aspasia_; but the
ravages on shore, among the troops, were to such an extent, that the
hospitals were filled, and those who were carried in might truly be said
to have left hope behind. Rapid as was the mortality, it was still not
rapid enough for the admittance of those who were attacked with the
fatal disease; and as the bodies of fifteen or twenty were, each
succeeding evening, borne unto the grave, the continual decrease of the
military _cortege_ which attended the last obsequies, told the sad tale,
that those who, but a day or two before, had followed the corpses of
others, were now carried on their own biers.
Other vessels on the station, which had put to sea from the different
isles, with the disappointed expectation of avoiding the contagion, now
came to an anchor in the bay, their crews so weakened by disease and
death that they could with difficulty send up sufficient men to furl
their sails. Boat after boat was sent on shore to the naval hospital,
loaded with sufferers, until it became so crowded that no more could be
received. Still the _Aspasia_, from the precautions which had been
taken, in fumigating, and avoiding all unnecessary contact with the
shipping and the shore, had for nearly a fortnight escaped the
infection; but the miasma was at last wafted to the frigate, and in the
course of one night fifteen men, who were in health the preceding
evening, before eight o'clock on the following morning were lying in
their hammocks under the half-deck. Before the close of that day, the
number of patients had increased to upwards of forty. The hospitals
were so crowded that Captain M--- agreed with Macallan that it would be
better that the men should remain on board.
The frigate was anchored with springs on her cable, so as always to be
able to warp her stern to the breeze; the cabin bulk-heads on the
main-deck, and the thwart-ship bulk-heads below, were removed, and the
stern windows and ports thrown open, to admit a freer circulation of air
than could have been obtained by riding with her head to the sullen
breeze, which hardly deigned to fan the scorching cheeks of the numerous
and exhausted patients. The numbers on the list daily increased, until
every part of the ship was occupied with their hammocks, and the surgeon
and his assistants had scarcely time to relieve one by excessive
bleeding, and consign him to his hammock, before another, staggering and
fainting under the rapid disease, presented himself, with his arm bared,
ready for the lancet. More blood was thrown into the stagnant water of
the bay than would have sufficed to render ever verdant the laurels of
many a well-fought action (for our laurels flourish not from the dew of
Heaven, but must be watered with a sanguine stream) and, alas! too soon,
more bodies were consigned to the deep than would have been demanded
from the frigate in the warmest proof of courage and perseverance in her
country's cause.
It is a scene like this which appals the sailor's heart. It is not the
range of hammocks on the main-deck, tenanted by pale forms, with their
bandages steeped in gore; for such is the chance of war, and the blood
has flowed from hearts boiling with ardour and devotion. If not past
cure, the smiles and congratulations of their shipmates alleviate the
anguish and fever of the wound: if past all medical relief; still the
passage from this transitory world is soothed by the affectionate
sympathy of their messmates, by the promise to execute their last
wishes, by the knowledge that it was in their country's defence they
nobly fell. 'Tis not the chance of wreck, or of being consigned,
unshrouded, to the dark wave, by the treacherous leak, or overwhelming
fury of the storm. 'Tis not the "thought-executing fire." Every and
all of these they are prepared and are resigned to meet, as ills to
which their devious track is heir. But when disease, in its most
loathsome form and implacable nature, makes its appearance--when we
contemplate, in perspective, our own fate in the unfortunate who is
selected, like the struggling sheep, dragged from the hurdled crowd, to
be pierced by the knife of the butcher--when the horror of infection
becomes so strong that we hold aloof from administering the kind offices
of relief to our dearest friends; and, eventually prostrated ourselves,
find the same regard for self pervades the rest, and that there is no
voluntary attendance--then the sight of the expiring wretch, in his last
effort, turning his head over the side of his hammock, and throwing off
the dreadful black vomit, harbinger of his doom--'tis horrible! too
horrible!
And the anxiety which we would in vain suppress--the reckless laugh of
some, raised but to conceal their fear from human penetration--the
intoxicating draught, poured down by others to dull the excited senses--
the follies of years reviewed in one short minute--our life, how spent--
how much to answer for!--a world how overvalued--a God how much
neglected!--the feeling that we ought to pray, the inclination that
propels us to do so, checked by the mistaken yet indomitable pride which
puts the question to our manhood, "Will ye pray in fear, when ye
neglected it in fancied security?" Down, stubborn knees! Pride is but
folly towards men--insanity towards God!
But why dwell upon such a scene? Let it suffice to state, that seventy
of the _Aspasia's_ men fell victims to the baneful climate, and that
many more, who did recover, were left in such a state of exhaustion, as
to require their immediate return to their native shores. Except
O'Keefe, the purser, all the officers whom I have introduced to the
reader escaped. Three, from the midshipmen's berth, who had served
their time, and who for many months had been drinking the toast of "A
bloody war and sickly season," fell a sacrifice to their own thoughtless
and selfish desire; and the clerk, who anticipated promotion when he
heard that the purser was attacked, died before him.
When all was over, Jerry observed to Prose, "Well, Prose, `it's an ill
wind that blows nobody any good.' We have had not one single thrashing
during the sickness; but I suppose, now that their courage is returned,
we must prepare for both principal and interest."
"Well now, Jerry, I do declare that's very likely, but I never thought
of it before."
The large convoys of merchantmen that came out supplied the men that
were required to man the disabled ships; and transports brought out
cargoes from the depots to fill up the skeleton ranks of the different
companies. Among the various blessings left us in this life of
suffering is forgetfulness of past evils; and the yellow fever was in a
short time no longer the theme of dread, or even of conversation.
"Well, Tom, what sort of a place is this here West Hinges?" inquired a
soldier who had been just landed from a transport, of an old
acquaintance in the regiment, whom he encountered.
"Capital place, Bill," returned the other to his interrogation; "plenty
to drink, and always a-dry."
But as I do not wish to swell my narrative, and have no doubt but the
reader will be glad to leave this pestilential climate, I shall inform
him, that for three years the _Aspasia_ continued on the station, daily
encountering the usual risks of battle, fire, and wreck; and that at the
end of that period the health of Captain M--- was so much injured, by
the climate and his own exertions, that he requested permission to quit
the station.