Early in February, at Kingston, I embarked in the brig Vittoria,
Captain Ferrier, and, soon after, the vessel dropped down to the
anchorage at Port Royal. Just before we got under way, a transport
arrived from England, having on board a detachment for the garrison,
consisting of drafts from the 50th and 58th depôts, under the command
of Captain Mason of the former corps; the other officers were Lieut.
Crofton and Assistant Surgeon Young of the 50th and Lieut. Skinner of
the 58th. Wishing them all happiness, I returned to my own ship, which
immediately put to sea. On the 4th we were off the Island of Cuba, and
passed the Grand Caymans at midnight. The weather was fine and the
wind blowing fresh from the eastward. We made cape Antonio, the
western extremity of Cuba, and in the course of the day stood away to
the northward, in order to clear the Colorado shoals on the N.W. of
the Cape. While sailing through the Gulf of Mexico, the sun was
extremely hot, and very little wind stirring. We caught two small
sharks with the line and hook, and having some slices fried for
dinner, found them very tough, as well as strong and unsavoury to the
taste.
A fine pleasant breeze springing up, we steered in shore, making the
northern coast of Cuba, and about noon, the day being remarkably
clear, the hills of that island were distinctly seen at the distance
of twenty miles.
The wind becoming easterly on the 12th, we continued beating about the
Mexican sea, and between the southern extremity of the North American
coast and the east end of Cuba. Towards evening we were off the
Havannah, and in view of the fortress and castle of the Moro,
protecting the entrance into the harbour. Assisted by a strong current
we passed a considerable distance to the eastward of the Havannah,
and, as the current was running three and four knots, aided by a smart
S.E. breeze, we hoped to clear the Florida passage in a few days.
Before we got within the influence of the Gulf stream, we were hailed
by a strange sail to leeward, which fired a few shots to bring us to.
She immediately sent a boat, manned with some desperate looking
villains, for the purpose of rummaging the ship. Having obtained all
that they required, among which was a portion of our fresh stock, the
suspicious visitor bore away to the westward. She proved to be an
independent cruizer, named the Confidante of Buenos Ayres, and was one
of the insurgent privateers by which those seas were infested.
Fortunately, a heavy swell and threatening change of wind coming on,
were the means of causing the pirate to sheer off suddenly, otherwise,
we might not have escaped on such easy terms from his clutches.
With a fine spanking breeze at S.E. we were rapidly sailing through
the Gulf; the weather continued moderate, and the sea tolerably
smooth. On the 15th we entered the narrowest part of the straits,
about sixteen miles from the shores of the Bahamas.
February the 16th and 17th, clearing the Gulf, we launched into the
Great Western ocean, and underwent a series of desperate weather,
attended with squalls and rain. The wind being right astern, our
little brig was in the utmost danger of getting pooped by the heavy
rolling sea, which was driving us along. The dead lights were stove in
as fast as they were secured, and the decks were washed from stem to
stern. In this way, at the rate of between eight and ten knots, we
were scudding under close-reefed topsails. On the 18th and 19th, there
was no improvement whatever in the state of things, although the wind
was still blowing in a favorable direction. We were at this time in
the latitude of Charleston, North Carolina.
Matters continued much in the same state till the 27th, when, at
midnight, the dark and stormy appearances of the sky gave indubitable
indications of an approaching hurricane from the Northwest. At three
in the morning, while running at six knots, the ship suddenly broached
to, the foretopsail was torn off the yard arm, and, soon after, the
main topsail and jib were literally rent like brown paper, flying in
ribbons about the masts.
The whistling noise through the rigging, together with the rattling of
blocks and sheets, was really dismal, and the gale kept encreasing
with such fury as had never been witnessed by the oldest mariner on
board. The sun had set, on the preceding evening, with all those
direful omens which are the well known forerunners of bad weather,
while the black and lowering clouds, banked up in wild and broken
masses, foretold its continuance.
Daylight, so anxiously looked out for, disclosed to our view the
horrors by which we were surrounded. The tempest had by this time
gained a degree of violence that can be conceived only by such as have
voyaged in those latitudes, and at its mercy our poor weather-beaten
ship, labouring and struggling against its fury, was allowed, (or
rather forced), to drift considerably off her course, in consequence
of the helm being dismantled and unmanageable. With elastic bound she
rose on the top of each successive wave, then fell as nobly into the
furrows, seeming as if despair had given her strength, while the
waters with dreadful noise rushed past her quivering sides, and with
their accumulated weight occasionally broke upon the decks, sweeping
off bulwarks, boats, and every timber on the gangways; while all her
masts, yards and spars aloft, bent and strained beneath the fearful
blast that howled in dismal gusts around. The sea, agitated into white
and boiling foam, was running mountains high, and its angry surface
presented a most desolate and wintry aspect.
Throughout this day the hurricane raged without the slightest
intermission, every now and then a ponderous billow, coming with the
force of a battering-ram upon her broadside, made the little sea-boat
tremble to her very keel. She soon began to leak in all her seams, and
the crew, harassed and fatigued, relieved each other by turns, while
lashed to the pumps they worked incessantly. All but the seamen were
down below, none daring to venture from those regions even for a
moment. Pent up within the dark and gloomy limits of the cabin, we
remained in awful durance, scarcely giving utterance to a word; our
silence occasionally disturbed by a waterfall, tumbling through the
sky-light, or companion hatchway, and leaving the steerage and cabin
floor in a perfect deluge. Such a day of misery was never passed; and
the Captain, who had been under many a stiff norwester, confessed that
a gale like this he had not before encountered. The sun set with the
same forbidding aspect as on the day preceding, and the night began
without the slightest prospect of a change;--every one seemed to be in
a state of hopeless despair, and were it not for that buoyancy of
spirit, which is natural to man under every circumstance, none would
have been capable of the least exertion.
The darkness in which we were involved rendered our situation more
deplorable than ever, and without any thing whatever to cheer or
comfort us, the most painful forebodings weighed down upon all on
board. The Mate, Mr. Grant, however, a hearty good-humoured sailor, a
man inured to danger in every form, kept us alive; encouraging the
drooping passengers and crew, he never for an instant gave way to
useless repining, but exerted himself as far as he could do under
circumstances so trying. "With plenty of searoom, and a good ship," he
said, "there was nothing to apprehend;" and his example did more to
inspire the men with energy to work than any other means could
possibly have accomplished. A little before midnight the utmost climax
of the tempest seemed to have arrived, and it was hoped a change would
soon take place. Grant, after drinking a glass of grog, and wrapping a
pilot's frock about him, went on deck, for the purpose of looking out
for something favourable; and we impatiently waited his return, as the
harbinger of good tidings.
For a considerable time, we heard nothing but the ceaseless thunder of
the wind and waves. At length, Captain Ferrier, fearing that something
must have happened to detain the Mate, called out for him, from the
top of the companion ladder, but no answer was received; the call was
repeated throughout the ship, still no reply. Ferrier now perceived
that the capstan head, dripstone, and tafferel rail were cleared away,
since he was on deck before, and he soon guessed the fate of his
unfortunate officer. Grant was last seen by a man at the pumps,
holding on by the capstan; but in a moment one of the tremendous seas
broke over the ship, with an overwhelming force, and washed the
ill-fated seaman into the deep, together with the solid timber upon
which he leaned.
All danger seemed for the present set aside, in our regrets for this
worthy shipmate. He was a most skilful and zealous man, always at his
post, engaged in every active business of the vessel, and unwearied in
his duty in the hour of danger.
Immediately after the occurrence of this melancholy accident, the
Captain, on glancing round the horizon, observed symptoms of an
abatement of the gale; the wild commotion of the elements seemed to be
gradually subsiding, and the weather-wise mariner expressed his
opinion that, in a few hours, the wind would become so moderate as to
enable him to steer his proper course. This welcome information was
fully realized, for, even before it was expected, this change took
place. Suddenly relieved from inevitable shipwreck, the crew began to
work with fresh alacrity, and the tattered remnant of our sails was
speedily put in order for instant use; so that by good exertion,
crippled as she was, the ship moved slowly onward, and after sunrise,
on the 1st of March, was making tolerable way, before a steady breeze
and a comparatively smooth sea; dashing up the spray from beneath her
bows, with a noise that sounded like the sweetest music in our ears.
Our party assembled at the breakfast table in high glee and spirits; a
state of mind far different from that in which we had been for several
days. Our late probation of abstinence had reduced us to a very
slender compass, we therefore, set to with a goût that could not be
imparted by Messrs. Harvey or Burgess, and the coarse though solid
fare was rapidly devoured; the attacks were boldly made, and the
enemy, in the shape of bare bones and empty platters and cups was
quickly put to flight.
Three beside the Captain made up the number of our company in the
cabin, one of whom, an old Scotch gentleman, who had made his fortune
in the Plantations, was retiring in the evening of his days, to spend
his money in his own country. He had been the greatest part of his
life in Jamaica, and seemed to have lost all recollection of the
period when he first left home; suffering under infirmity of body, and
from the effect of climate, he was reduced to a very indifferent state
of health.
The other passenger was a gentleman, whose intellect was rather out of
order; in fact, when he was put on board the Vittoria at Port Royal,
he was quite deranged, being held in charge of two men, who with
difficulty prevented him from jumping into the sea. However, he cooled
a little afterwards, although, during the whole voyage, he displayed
many wild symptoms. While the hurricane lasted he kept close to his
berth, and was in such a dreadful state of terror, that he did nothing
but call out every moment that we were going down, and he fancied the
violent concussion of the waves against the ship to be no other than
our contact with the bottom of the ocean, at which he supposed we had
arrived. Nothing whatever, but extreme longing for gain, could have
induced any one in his common senses to admit such an unruly character
into the ship, at all events without the very necessary appendage of a
straight waistcoat. The poor man himself, however, was much to be
pitied, for he was the victim of many serious trials. The vessel in
which he sailed for the West Indies, a few years back, took fire,
while lying becalmed off Cape Tiberon, and was burnt to the water's
edge. He narrowly escaped destruction, being obliged to leap
overboard, and with others was rescued from the devouring element.
The fright caused by the awful situation in which he had been placed,
affected his mind at the time, but not so as materially to affect his
reasoning powers; he had wisdom enough left to seek for comfort with a
blooming partner, a planter's daughter; which circumstance, it was
said, rather increased than diminished the malady.--This fair lady
died, and to prove his estimation of the married state, he took to his
arms a second helpmate, with whom he resided at an estate called Vere.
Misfortune still pursued the unhappy man; the last companion of his
woes and joys followed her predecessor to the tomb, and the mourning
widower, who was no admirer of the creed of Malthus or Miss Martineau,
was left to go a third time, like another Coelebs, in search of a
wife. If to have been burned out of a ship, and enjoyed the felicity
of having had two wives, with the chances of getting his head again
into the noose were not enough in all conscience to qualify a man for
Bedlam, it would be a difficult matter to find out what could effect
that desirable object. Such was the case of our friend, of uxorious
memory and to the disasters of his campaigns, we were perhaps indebted
for the pleasure of his society on the passage home.
The dark and threatening aspect of the weather, for the rest of the
voyage, gave us no reason to doubt that the Equinoxial gales would
support their usual character, and that Boreas would attend us to our
destined harbour.
Continuing our course across the great Atlantic, we got into soundings
about the eighteenth of March, and were off the S.W. coast of Ireland,
but the atmosphere being thick and hazy, the land was not discernible.
Keeping the lead in active operation, we slowly though cautiously
approached the Channel. The weather cleared up on the 21st, when with
a fine breeze from the S.W. we gained the Lizard, at an early hour,
and having made a capital run past the Eddystone and Needles, were
compelled to heave to, off the S. Foreland, in consequence of a dense
fog. Signals were made for a pilot, which were answered by a rough
looking member of that tribe pulling up, and boarding us. The night
set in dark, but the moon shining out towards twelve o'clock, we stood
away for the Downs, illumined by her light; and came to anchor about
three in the morning of the 22nd of March 1821, after a stormy passage
of seven weeks and two days.
On our getting moored, some Deal boats crowded round the ship, and
their crews made the most extravagant demands for their services.
Impatient to set foot on shore, after being so long caged up in my
floating prison, I gladly embraced the opportunity, and agreeing to
give the rapacious fellows a guinea for a two miles pleasuring on a
wintry morning, my goods and chattels were gathered from the hold, and
being tumbled into a boat, were soon followed by their master. We then
shoved off, and I bade adieu to the shattered brig, and strange as it
may appear, not without some feelings of regret, Rowing for about an
hour against a head wind and strong tide, we hurried through the surf
and brought to on the sandy beach of Deal, and with joy unspeakable, I
once more found myself on the shores of happy England.
THE END.
BURY ST. EDMUND'S:
PRINTED BY T. C. NEWBY, ANGEL HILL.