Barbadoes, March 9.
It occurs to me that, amidst all the uncertainties of our unfortunate
fleet, it may be pleasant to you and others of our friends to know which
of the ships have made good the passage; I send you, therefore, the
annexed list of upwards of sixty, which are now safe at anchor in
Carlisle Bay.
A vessel from Liverpool is come into harbour, which sailed on the 9th of
January, but we are still without any late news of the fleet, which took
its departure on the 9th of December; and, singular to tell, the
Liverpool ship, now arrived, performed the whole voyage without falling
in with any one of the convoy. It is now thirteen weeks since the fleet
left England, and we know about as much concerning the great body of it,
at this moment, as if it were sailing in the moon.
We, who are destined to proceed to St. Domingo, have new disappointment
in finding that the Cork division, intended for that island, had not
sailed at a date many weeks subsequent to the time when it had been
reported to be at sea; and we now feel it probable that we may be long
detained or even placed on duty at Barbadoes, in consequence of the
increasing number of sick, and the non-arrival of the medical officers
of the Charibbee Island, or what is incorrectly called the
_Leeward_-Island staff.
You will be surprised, perhaps, to know that the transports in Carlisle
Bay have been several times interrupted, and the whole harbour
disturbed, and brought into a state of anxiety, by the visitings of
different press-gangs, in the exercise of that necessary custom, so
repugnant to the feelings, and the freedom of Englishmen.
In one instance an alarming scene took place in consequence of the
sailors of one of the ships resisting this arbitrary and
unconstitutional method of obtaining their services. They opposed the
boarding, and beat off the agent, and two boats with the press-gang.
This resistance was soon followed by the appearance of a party of
soldiers, with firelocks and fixed bayonets, who were called to aid the
press-party, and to force the sailors to submission.
It has been our fortune on board the Lord Sheffield to be visited by two
different bodies of the press-gang in the course of the same night: one
of which came alongside at midnight; the other at two o’clock in the
morning. From stealing upon us unexpectedly, and in the dark, you will
suppose that much hurry and confusion was created. Being wakened by the
noise of people over my head, I put on my _robe de chambre_, and went up
to learn the cause, when, finding what visitors they were, I felt a
strong disposition to observe their conduct and manner of proceeding,
and therefore remained upon deck, during the time they continued on
board.
A Lieutenant of the navy was stalking up and down with a huge drawn
sabre in his hand, calling out, with boatswain’s lungs, for the steward
to bring a light. His men were running about every part of the ship with
cutlasses, pistols, hangers, and various other weapons. The sailors whom
they found upon deck, were instantly tumbled into a boat at the side,
filled with armed men; the others secreted themselves in holes and
corners, while the old steward with seeming haste, but with fox-like
cunning, delayed the candle. Perhaps you will say it was a little severe
to demand a light, at all, from the ship, in order to rob her of her own
men; but the whole proceeding was alike arbitrary and despotic, and this
only consistent with the other parts of it. They came in darkness, and
with muffled oars, that they might take the vessel by surprise.
The steward, somewhat endangered, from the ire which he had provoked by
his well-contrived delay, at length appeared with the lantern; and a
general search was immediately made below. The cabins,—the
cable-tier,—the pantries,—the lockers,—the very pig-sty,—every hole and
corner they could think of were hunted out, and they seemed resolved
that not a spot should be omitted. Yet, notwithstanding all their
vigilance, several of the sailors contrived to elude the search. One,
who had not time to escape to a place of more probable security,
remained quietly in his hammock, and, when they came to examine it,
affected to awake uttering a loud groan, strongly expressive of pain and
suffering. Hearing this, the press-gang asked who it was, and if a
sailor. The mate, who was watching them with a vigilance not inferior to
their own, immediately replied that it was a sick man, who had been long
confined to his birth. His promptitude was successful: sick men they did
not want; and the sailor was left undisturbed—his freedom the fruit of
his well-timed stratagem, and of the expertness of the mate in promoting
it.