Carlisle Bay, Feb. 29.
It proves that we might have lengthened our marooning excursion, without
the slightest interruption from the fear of being called away to St.
Domingo. Scarcely any vessels arrived in the bay during our absence, and
very few have come in since our return. Our solicitude, concerning the
commander in chief and the convoy, is still undiminished. One ship left
them in one latitude, another in another, one parted from the fleet in
the bay of Biscay, another off Portugal, a third off the coast of
Africa, and others in different latitudes. Some suppose the convoy to
have put into Lisbon, some say Gibraltar, and others various other
ports. All is still enveloped in a cloud of uncertainty.
One vessel has at length reached Barbadoes, which sailed subsequent to
ourselves. It is a Glasgow trader, and you will judge what multitudes
thronged on board, as soon as she entered the harbour, to ask for news.
She brings papers of January, and we are much gratified to learn that
the admiral had written to England, so late as the fourth of that month,
saying that he had, then, with him one hundred and eleven sail!
At this very interesting period of suspense, if a strange vessel enter
the bay, the whole harbour becomes a crowded and moving scene, in
consequence of almost every ship sending off a boat to seek tidings of
the fleet. You, who can feel for our solicitude, will compassionate our
disappointment, when we happen to find that she is not direct from
England. This frequently occurs, and we return loaded with chagrin. Of
two ships which have been this day thronged with eager visitors, one
proved to be from Newfoundland with fish, and the other from the coast
of Africa with slaves; consequently neither of them knew so much of
England or the convoy as ourselves.
I am sorry to tell you that information of an unpleasant nature has
reached us from Grenada, in consequence of which it has been deemed
expedient to embark a body of troops, on board the Expedition _armée en
flute_, and other smaller vessels, to send to the relief of that island,
without waiting for the arrival of the commander in chief.
Could it have been known, that the remainder of the convoy would have
been detained so many weeks behind us, the troops which have assembled
at Barbadoes might have been beneficially employed in restoring
tranquillity to our disordered islands, and, perhaps, have been still in
time to have joined in the great, and more combined object of the
campaign. But it is not given to humanity to foresee events, and the sad
disasters of this formidable armament only tend to prove the extreme
uncertainty which must ever attend our expeditions. The plan may be
concerted with wisdom; all the necessaries amply provided; and the
force, on sailing, fully adequate to the intended purposes: yet, after
all, the lamentable fickleness of the elements will often frustrate the
best and wisest arrangements.
We have an encampment of negroes formed near Bridge-town, upon a spot
called Constitution-hill. They are a fine body of men, who have been
enlisted from the revolted French islands, or brought away on the
evacuation of them by our troops. They are active and expert, and are
training into a formidable corps to assist in our intended attacks.
About sixteen hundred of them bear arms; besides whom there are twelve
hundred to be employed as pioneers. They have all the vivacity and
levity of the French character; and it, occasionally, affords us
amusement to observe the Barbadoes negroes looking at them with evident
amazement, and seemingly wondering at their volatility and alertness.
John Bull differs not more widely from a Parisian _petit-maître_ than
many of the Barbadoes slaves from the _sable fops_ of this sprightly
corps.
It is now the dry season of the year at Barbadoes, and if you have
imbibed the same idea of a tropical climate which I remember to have
once felt, you will learn, with surprise, that very few days have
passed, since we have been here, without a refreshing shower of rain.
The heat is far more supportable than we had expected. The thermometer,
at noon, is commonly about 80, and very seldom exceeds 82: we have not
yet seen it above 84.
It happens, fortunately, that some of the ships, laden with the
temporary hospitals, made in England, have reached Carlisle Bay, and,
likewise, a few of the men belonging to the corps of artificers; who,
together with some creole and negro carpenters, are actively employed in
fitting and putting up these frames with all possible speed: but much of
hurry and difficulty might have been avoided if the hospitals, the
barracks, and other buildings had been sent out in time to have been put
up before any of the troops, or any division of the moving part of the
expedition came in.
The confusion that must necessarily arise from the arrival of the
soldiers, of the buildings requiring to be erected, and of all the
various departments, at the same moment, must be self-evident; and it
will readily appear, from the hurried and numerous claims each
department will have upon the artificers, that many of the requisites
attaching to the hospitals may not be completed, before the more urgent
necessity for them may have ceased. Present experience may convey an
useful lesson.
From the great exertions now making we hope very soon to have hospital
room at St. Anne’s Hill, for, at least, a thousand sick, and I am sorry
to remark, from the unhealthy state in which some of the transports have
already arrived, that it seems likely we may have occasion for it all;
but we have the further convenience of hospital ships, should they be
required, and have, therefore, the prospect of seeing all the sick very
tolerably placed, and amply provided with such necessaries as their
unfortunate condition may demand. This, to a medical officer, is a
circumstance of no trivial import. To the service it is likewise
essential: but, speaking as an individual, I know of few things that
could be so truly distressing, as to behold a crowd of brave and
suffering soldiers lying destitute of the comforts and accommodations
required in sickness; and you will believe that I feel a cordial
gratification in finding that I am not likely to witness this example of
misery.
In a moon-light walk lately from St. Anne’s Hill to Bridge-town, after
our visit at the hospital, our attention was very powerfully arrested by
the peculiar appearance of a grove of coco-nut trees, at the side of the
road. From the brightness of the moon, the peculiar form of the trees,
and the dead stillness of the night, we were suddenly struck with the
grandeur and solemnity of the scene. The trees grew nigh, one to
another, and the naked trunks formed so many stately pillars, supporting
their palmated summits, which, stretching to meet each other, assumed
the semblance of extensive aisles of Gothic arches. A gentle breeze
waved the leaves in soothing undulation, while the dark shading foliage
shut out the silver moon-beams, allowing only an occasional ray to steal
in at partial openings, to relieve the sepulchral gloom. At the same
time the sea at the bottom of the grove rolled its tranquil billows in
soft murmurs to the shore, and broke in whispers scarcely to be heard
upon the sands.