Portsmouth, Nov. 8, 1795.
Out of evil, it is said, sometimes springeth good: and I feel assured
that you will agree with me, in considering the adage verified, when I
tell you, that the repeated delays to which we have been subjected have
proved the means of completing our party, by converting our harmonious
trio into a still more social quartette: a circumstance which has
happened from our having the company of Dr. Cleghorn, who is now
arrived, at this place, on his way to join the St. Domingo hospital
staff. He is a pleasant, well-informed man, brother to the professor of
anatomy in the University of Dublin, and nephew to the celebrated author
on the diseases of Minorca. His society is a great acquisition to us,
and we are much gratified in having such an agreeable addition to our
party. We now look, more anxiously than ever, to the arrival of the
Ulysses, in the hope of being allowed to establish a friendly mess for
the voyage.
With our newly arrived comrade we have repeated our visits to the
dock-yard, the Haslar hospital, and the Forton prison.
At the prison we met with a striking example of the great vicissitudes
to which persons are liable, who are exposed to the hazardous chances of
war. Observing among the prisoners, an officer who had lost his right
arm, we were led to ask some questions respecting him, when we learned
that he was the very lieutenant who took possession of our ship of war
the Alexander, at the time she fell into the hands of the French; and
that he had, afterwards, been taken in one of the ships captured by Lord
Bridport’s fleet, and had lost his arm in the action. Thus the man, who,
but a short time ago, rejoiced in victory, is now humbled by defeat, and
has the sad mortification of being confined a prisoner, with the loss of
a most important limb, and the melancholy prospect of being a cripple
throughout the remainder of his life.