In the year 1797, I left the United States, having under my control a
new clipper built schooner of about eighty tons, bound to Cape
Francais, in the island of St. Domingo, with a cargo, chiefly
munitions of war, for the colonial government of that island. The
harbor of Cape Francais is one of the best in the world,--capacious,
safe, and of easy access; the entrance under a high point of land,--on
the side of which is a strong fortification called Fort Picolet, which
completely commands the pass. Above the fort, on very elevated ground,
was placed the observatory, in view of the town, although two or three
miles distant.
England being then at war with France, and having the command of the
West India seas, the direct intercourse of the island with France was
rare and uncertain--European news generally reaching them by the way
of the United States. My business at the Cape being nearly finished,
it became necessary, for a particular mercantile speculation, that I
should return to the United States by the way of St. Thomas. Three or
four days before I was prepared to sail, early one forenoon, I
observed all at once a singular excitement in the streets,--drums
beating, alarm guns firing, &c. Upon making inquiry into the occasion,
I was informed that the signals at the observatory indicated a fleet
to windward standing for the port. The leading frigate was soon seen
from the town, making signals to the fort, and without molestation
stood directly in, and proved to be a squadron from France, under the
command of Commodore Barney, with a number of prizes in company, which
altogether made a very imposing appearance. The day before I had
intended to leave the Cape, I was accosted in the street by a stout
sailor looking man, who civilly inquired if I had not a vessel in port
bound to St Thomas, and could he get a passage in her--adding, that he
was an Englishman, had been captain of one of the brigs then in port,
captured by Commodore Barney, on his passage out from Liverpool to
Barbadoes; and as he had not been armed he was not held as a prisoner,
but turned ashore pennyless, to shift for himself as he best
might--that could he get to St. Thomas, he could raise funds by bills
on his consignees at Barbadoes, and would pay whatever the charge
might be for his passage up. I told him I believed that it was the
custom for unfortunate seamen to receive assistance from their
fellows, without thinking of recompense--that he was entirely welcome
to a passage; and as the schooner would leave the port early the next
morning, I would give him a note to the captain, and advise him to
take his baggage and go immediately on board. He observed that his
baggage was easily removed--that although he had considerable property
on board of the brig when captured, belonging to himself, the captors
had left him nothing but a sailor's bag to take care of. Next morning
we left Cape Francais, with a view of beating up to St Thomas. This is
a voyage of some difficulty, being a distance of some six or seven
hundred miles, with the trade wind dead ahead. Navigators of those
seas know that in this passage there is a dangerous reef of sunken
rocks, whose sharp points rarely reach the surface, called the Silver
Keys, lying about midway between the northeast part of the island of
St. Domingo, and the cluster of islands, keys and shoals, east of
Turk's Island; and although the passage is probably a hundred miles
wide, and the reef covers but a small space, yet many a fine vessel
has been wrecked thereon. Knowing perfectly well the existence and
location of this dangerous reef, and making my own observations on the
run of the vessel, I had calculated on the third night that we were
out--that if we neither saw nor heard any thing of it by midnight, we
should have passed it; I therefore kept the deck until that hour, when
concluding all was safe, went below. I had got to sleep, when I was
awoke by the vessel's bottom and sides rubbing violently against the
rocks. I immediately got upon deck, and looking round found we were in
a most perilous situation; on all sides surrounded by rocks, which
were plainly known by the waves gently breaking upon them. The moon
was near her full, occasionally obscured by passing clouds--the wind
moderate. The schooner was instantly put about, under the expectation
of finding the way out by which we entered; she had only got cleverly
under way when she went bows on, upon a sunken sharp pointed rock, and
remained stationary. An immediate examination was made, when it was
discovered that the rock had penetrated her bottom, and the water was
pouring in. Our situation was in the highest degree alarming--the
schooner evidently lost, and no chance for our safety but the boat,
which for a vessel of eighty tons could not be large. There was nine
of us, the captain, mate, English captain, myself and five colored
seamen. Fortunately the weather was mild; the vessel quietly hanging
to the rock, and not filling very fast, gave us time to make our
arrangements. The boat was launched, a mast and sail prepared, short
stanchions nailed to her gunwale, and a strip of sail cloth attached
thereto, for the purpose of raising her sides, to prevent the spray of
the sea washing in. We took also on board, the ship's compass, a bag
of biscuit, a keg of water, and some bottles of brandy. No baggage was
permitted. My own dress was shirt, pantaloons, shoes, hat, and an old
surtout coat. I had taken the precaution to secure the papers relative
to the voyage, my watch, and about sixty Spanish dollars tied up in a
shot bag; the bag of dollars I made fast to the ringbolt in the boat's
stern. We were probably a couple of hours in making those
preparations. At length the schooner being nearly full of water, we
settled ourselves in the boat and left her,--the captain, who steered,
and myself in the stern sheets, the mate and English captain next, two
of the seamen midships, with tin cans to bail the water out as it
should splash in, the others forward. I had little expectation that
the boat could possibly live as deeply loaded as she was, and such I
believe was the opinion of all on board,--for the first two or three
hours there was not a dozen words spoken. It was our object to make
the island of St. Domingo, from which we were fifty or sixty miles
distant, as soon as possible. To effect this all our exertions were
used; but so miserably rigged as we were, and so deep withal, that we
could do little more than run before the wind. Our oars were some how
or other of little use. On the first day we made, that is we had a
very distant view of land, on our larboard bow, which we supposed to
be Point Isabella, the most northern part of the island of St.
Domingo; the wind would not permit us to reach it. In the evening we
had a severe squall; the wind blew, the waves increased; we lowered
our sail, just sufficient to keep before the wind. Soon it commenced
raining hard, the waves were stilled, we rode out the storm, and began
to breathe more freely--entered into conversation, and entertained
hopes of our ultimate safety, by getting to land somewhere, or being
picked up; but neither land nor vessel appeared during the whole of
the second day, we still running before the wind, making as much
southing as the nature of our equipment would permit. On the morning
of the third day we found ourselves off Monti Christi, and might
probably have reached the land; but by this time we had become
confident in our power to sustain ourselves, and determined to run for
Cape Francais, which then lay direct to leeward, and which we reached
in perfect safety about three o'clock that afternoon. Thus terminated
a voyage of about two hundred and fifty miles, in about sixty hours,
in the open sea, and in a small boat so deeply loaded, that her
gunwale, on an even keel, could not be above four inches above the
water--leaving us in a complete state of destitution; not a man but
myself had saved any thing but the clothes around him.
Our return created a considerable sensation. I was quickly surrounded
by my acquaintances, anxious to hear the details of our misfortune,
and to offer their services in the most liberal manner. This was
naturally to be expected from my countrymen. There was however one
occurrence in a French gentleman, which I can never forget, and must
relate; he held some subordinate office under government. I had been
introduced to his family by a German who I had known in the United
States. This gentleman called upon me, and taking me aside from the
crowd by which I was surrounded, told me that he had just heard of my
misfortune, and had come to offer me any money I might want, to be
returned in my own way, and at my own convenience. Altogether his
manner was so kind and friendly, that I am sorry his name has entirely
escaped my memory. After very sincerely thanking him for his
friendship and generosity, I told him I had sufficient funds for my
immediate wants. Early next day I was called upon by two American
gentlemen, the one a Mr. Dodge, who from his long residence and good
character, was usually called "consul." They informed me that the
Americans at the Cape, resident and transient, hearing of the
misfortunes of myself and crew, had raised a subscription for our
relief, and that they had called upon me to know the numbers and
relative situation of those on board at the time of the disaster, to
enable them to make the distribution of the money raised, in the
fairest and most efficient manner. I informed these gentlemen that we
were not exactly objects of charity--that my funds were sufficient for
my purposes--that the captain had sold the boat which preserved us,
for thirty or forty dollars--that the mate could get employment if he
wished it, or could get a gratuitous passage home--that the colored
seamen could ship aboard American vessels in port, who were in want of
hands--but that there was one person shipwrecked with us, who was
particularly unfortunate: he was, or rather had been, the captain of
an English brig then in the harbor, a prize to Commodore Barney,
turned ashore with nothing but his clothes, and those lost in the
wreck; I was giving him a passage to St. Thomas, with a view of
placing him as near as I could to the place he was bound to; he was
now in an enemy's country, and entirely destitute. Mr. Dodge observed
that he would not consent to give the Englishman a dollar; that the
English cruisers were plundering and confiscating American property
wherever they could find it, and that they had almost ruined him. I
observed that I had correctly informed them of the situation of all
the persons in the vessel when wrecked, and that they, as the
distributors of the public contribution, would in course use their own
discretion. They left me. A few hours afterwards, the gentleman who
had accompanied Mr. Dodge returned alone. He told me that Mr. Dodge
had consented to let the Englishman in for a portion of the money
collected, and that he would share equally with the schooner's mate,
and that if I would bring him to Mr. Dodge's counting house, his quota
was ready for him. This I promised to do; and in the course of the day
fell in with our companion in misfortune, told him what had been done,
took him to the place designated, and introduced him to the gentlemen.
They counted out, as well as I remember, about sixty hard dollars, and
presented them to him. He gathered them up in a dirty handkerchief,
and thanked them for their kindness and liberality--in doing which he
was so much affected, that be burst into tears. We left the place
together; I parted from him in the street, and have never heard of him
since. In a few days I took passage on board an American schooner
bound for Philadelphia, and after a short passage, was peaceably under
quarantine in the river Delaware.