FIGHTING EPISODES.
Returns to his ship—Capture of a French schooner—An episode with
two American sloops of war—Return to Port Royal—Attacked a second
time by yellow fever—Seize and burn a Spanish gunboat—Return to
Port Royal—Wetting a midshipman’s commission—Ordered home with a
convoy—Pathetic farewells with mulatto washerwomen.
On going on board a boat provided for the purpose, I found with much joy
the five men who had been taken when the unfortunate master lost his life,
my own boat’s crew, and seven other seamen. This addition was cheering.
Five hours later we were shaking hands with some of our mess and
shipmates, who appeared delighted to see us. The ship being close in with
the shore, we soon reached her, and received a hearty welcome from all on
board. I acquainted the captain with every circumstance respecting our
capture, and with the great kindness and liberality of the Governor and
American Consul, and that I had pledged my word of honour as an officer
that an equal number of officers and men should be exchanged for us. “For
your satisfaction, and I hope for his,” replied the captain, “a cartel is
on her passage with a superior Spanish officer and twenty men, for
immediately our liberal-minded commander-in-chief, Lord H. Seymour, heard,
by an American vessel, of our misfortunes, he ordered the cartel to be got
ready, and desired me to proceed, before we had half refitted, to St. Jago
to reclaim you, having written a handsome letter to acknowledge the humane
manner in which the Governor treated the English prisoners”—which letter
was given to the Spanish officer to present to him on his arrival. “Now,”
continued the captain, “have you heard anything of the _Fancy_? I am
afraid she is lost, with all on board her. The morning after you went
away,” resumed he, “we saw a vessel in the offing much resembling her. I
stood towards her, and found she was an American. The sea-breeze became so
strong that I could not fetch sufficiently to windward, and that accounts
for your not seeing us. I was truly unfortunate, and the cruise was
disastrous beyond credibility. You a prisoner, with a midshipman and nine
seamen, the master and three men killed, and five others taken, and the
second lieutenant, a midshipman and sixteen of the best seamen most likely
drowned—for I think beyond a doubt she has upset.” This conjecture was a
few days after unhappily confirmed by a Bermudian sloop, which informed us
that she had passed a small vessel, as we described her, bottom up near
the Island of Inagua. This intelligence threw a gloom over the whole of
us. “This is too tender a subject,” said I, “to have any more tenders.”
“No,” replied the captain; “all these unhappy circumstances combined are
most deplorable. I do not think I will ever send the boats away again.”
“Not till the next time,” thinks I to myself. We repaired to one of our
old cruising grounds, the Isle de Vâche, and although our noble captain
had some days before come to a kind of secondhand determination of not
sending boats away from the ship, on a large schooner heaving in sight
towards the evening, I volunteered with the purser, if he would allow us
the two cutters, as the wind had died away, to go after her. He, after a
brown study of about half an hour, granted our request. “But,” said he,
“be cautious, and if you find her heavily armed, try to decoy her off
shore, but by no means attempt boarding her. We have suffered too much
already.” Having prepared the boats, away we started, and after a most
fatiguing pull, came up with her as she was making for Jacmel. Fortunately
for us, the land-breeze was blowing rather fresh, which obliged her to
make several tacks, and we boarded her whilst in stays. The people on
board appeared astonished to see so many armed men so suddenly on her
deck, as she had in the obscure light taken us for fishing canoes. She
proved a French schooner, laden with bags of coffee. We soon rejoined the
ship, quite elated with our prize, and sent her to Jamaica in charge of
the purser. In the course of this cruise we fell in with two American
sloops of war, which we chased, and as they did not shorten sail nor
answer the private signal, we fired at the nearest; the shot passed
through her cutwater. This event roused the minds and, I presume, the
Yankee blood of both Jonathans, for they bore up, and we could hear their
drums beating to quarters. We shortened sail, and they soon bowled
alongside of us, with their sails spread like the tail of a turkey-cock.
“You have fired into me,” said the nearest. “Have I?” said our skipper,
very coolly; “I intended the shot to go ahead of you. You must blame your
superior sailing for the accident. You fore-reached so rapidly that the
shot had not time to go ahead of you.” “I don’t know anything about that,”
was the reply. “We are American cruisers, and no one has a right, I guess,
to fire into the United States men-of-war.” “Then the United States
men-of-war should have answered the private signal and hoisted their
colours,” returned our captain, “as we did ours.” Here they hailed each
other, and soon afterwards hoisted their colours. Another boat adventure
and the capture of a beautiful small schooner without any accident was the
wind up of this cruise.
We anchored at Port Royal once more. About a week after our arrival I was
again attacked with the yellow fever and removed to my lodgings, where I
was nursed with unremitting attention by a quadroon female, who did not
leave my bedside day or night. She was a most tender and attentive nurse.
It was a month before I was sufficiently strong to go on board, and nearly
another before I could resume my duty. I was so reduced that I was
literally a walking skeleton, or, if my reader pleases, the shadow of a
ghost, and, had a purser’s candle been placed within me, I might have made
a tolerably good substitute for the flag-ship’s top light. We were, in
consequence of several of the crew being seized with yellow fever, ordered
by the recommendation of the surgeon to Bluefields for change of air, and
I am happy to state that from this judicious arrangement we did not lose a
man. During the three weeks we remained here we amused ourselves by
fishing. The water in eight fathoms was as pellucid as glass, and we could
see the large conger eels twisting about between the stones at the bottom,
as well as other fish, of which we caught several. I was regaining my
strength rapidly, and was frequently invited to spend the day at several
of the estates.
I enjoyed walking of an evening about an hour before sunset in the pimento
groves, of which there were several, and when the land-breeze set in we
were often regaled on board the ship by their balmy fragrance. Mr. S., at
whose house I frequently dined, was particularly kind, and his hospitality
will not easily be effaced from my recollection. He had an amiable
daughter, and had my heart not been lost in six different places, I think
I should have sent it to cruise in her snug little boudoir. The captain,
as the people who were ill had nearly recovered, thought His Majesty’s
ship should no longer lie idle. We bade adieu to our kind friends, and
once more made the water fly before us. Three days more brought us off the
Havannah, where we joined the _Trent_ and _Alarm_ frigates. Nothing worth
noticing occurred until the _Trent_, which was in chase of a vessel, ran
on a coral reef off Matanzas. The wind was light and the sea smooth, and
we soon got her afloat again. The vessel she had chased ran on a sand
beach under the protection of a martello tower. Two boats armed were soon
in motion from each ship, to get her off if possible. I had the direction
of our boats. The enemy’s gun-boat, for such she was, under Spanish
colours, hoisted her ensign and the red flag of defiance, and kept up a
smart fire on our boats. Fortunately we escaped, but those from the
_Alarm_ had the lieutenant and three men wounded. Our boats were the first
alongside of her, when I hauled down the red flag and her colours, and
threw them into one of our boats, but the senior lieutenant claimed the
former. This I refused, because as I was first on board and hauled it down
I considered myself entitled to keep it. He said he should refer it to his
captain, who was the chief officer. “So be it,” I replied. On our boarding
the enemy’s vessel we found the crew had abandoned her, and were firing at
us with muskets from the bushes. They had scuttled her, and she was full
of water. We turned her guns on them, which soon dislodged them, and they
scampered off as fast as their legs would carry them. More than half of
our boat’s crews had landed and were under my orders. We soon perceived
about thirty horse soldiers in a full trot towards us. We formed in a body
two deep, and when we were near enough gave them a sailor’s salute with
our muskets and three cheers. We knocked one off his horse, and set the
others on a full gallop back from whence they came. They discharged their
carbines at us, but they were too much alarmed to take good aim, and we
escaped unharmed.
As it was impossible to get the gun-boat afloat, we tarred her sails and
set fire to her. We should have blown her up had not her powder been under
water. She mounted a long eighteen-pounder on a traverse, and six long
six-pounders on her quarter-deck. She was of great length and a formidable
vessel, and we much regretted our not being able to get her afloat, as she
would have answered for the Service. She had also four brass swivels
mounted on her gunwales, which we took in the boats. After waiting until
she had nearly burnt down to the water’s edge, we returned to our ships,
taking with us the wounded Spanish dragoon. Soon after we were on our oars
the martello tower began blazing away at us. It had hitherto been silent,
but we supposed that when the run-away dragoons perceived we were
withdrawing, they returned and mounted the tower to give us a parting
salute. They might have spared themselves the trouble, as it had only one
gun, and that badly served. We were on board our own ships before they
fired the fourth shot. “Well,” said the captain, on my reaching the
quarter-deck, “you were not able to get the vessel off.” “No,” I replied;
“she was scuttled, and sank before we boarded her.” “Were her guns brass
or iron?” “Iron,” said I, “and not worth bringing on board; there were
four brass one-pound swivels, but those were taken by the lieutenant of
the commodore’s boat, and he ungenerously claimed the red flag I had
hauled down, but I refused to give it up.” Whilst this conversation was
going on, a boat from the _Alarm_ came alongside with a midshipman and a
written order from the commodore for me to give up, no longer the flag of
defiance but that of dispute. “I think,” said the captain, “you had better
comply with the order.” On seeing my disinclination to do so, he said, “It
is not worth contending about.” “I believe, sir,” I replied, “you are
right. It is of too childish a nature to contend about, although I cannot
help considering it arbitrary, and I am surprised that a man like Captain
D. could ever give such an unjust order.” “There are many men of various
minds,” said he. There the disagreeable conversation ended. The mid
received the piece of red bunting, and I walked the deck as surly as a
bear with the Caledonian rash. The captain, who was going to dine with
Captain A., told me he would explain to him anything I wished respecting
what had occurred. This I declined, but I mentioned the swivels, and told
him that they were very handy to mount in the boats when going on service.
“I will ask him for two of them,” said he; “by doing this I probably may
get one. You know,” continued he, laughing, “he is from the Land of Cakes
and bannocks, where the device is ‘To hold fast and not let go.’”
In the evening the captain returned on board, bringing in the boat one of
the swivels. “I have laid a point to windward of the Highlander,” said he
to me; “but I was obliged to make use of all my best logic, for he chose
to be distressingly deaf on the subject of giving. But when I mentioned
that I had a canister of real Scotch which was of no use to me, as I had
left off taking snuff, his ears became instantly opened. ‘You said
something about two swivels, I think,’ said he; ‘I cannot spare you two,
but I will give you one. Will you take it in your boat with you, or I will
send it in our jolly boat, and as I am nearly out of snuff, you can spare
me the canister you mentioned that you do not need.’” “This puts me in
mind,” said I, “of an Irish pilot who asked the purser of a ship I
formerly belonged to, to spare him an empty barrel to make his pig a
hencoop, and he would give him a sack of praters for nothing at all, at
all.” “The case is nearly in point,” replied the captain; “I am afraid I
have not gained so much on his weather-beam as I first imagined.” The
signal was now made to weigh, and we were soon under sail. Next morning we
parted company with the frigates, swept the Bay of Mexico, ran through the
Turks’ Island passage, and cruised between Capes Maize and François for
three weeks; took a small French schooner with tobacco, and burnt a small
sloop in ballast. Again our anchor found the bottom of Port Royal, and the
crew their copper and jet-coloured ladies.
One afternoon, taking a glass of sangaree at the tavern, I was accosted by
one of our late mids who had come on shore with some others to what he
called wet his commission. “Will you do me the favour to join us for a
quarter of an hour. We have a room upstairs,” said he to me. I told him I
would in about five minutes. On entering, I found a gallon bowl filled
with strong punch, with his commission soaking in it, and eight jolly mids
sitting at the table in full glee. They all rose as I approached, and one
of them offered me a chair. “Come, sir,” said the donor of the
entertainment, offering me a bumper from the contents of the bowl, “tell
me if it will suit your taste.” “Not quite,” replied I, “you have spoilt
it by putting your commission into it instead of your pocket, and it
smacks too much of ink and parchment.” “I told you how it would be,” said
he, addressing a sly, roguish-looking youngster, who had persuaded him to
put it in. “I vote that he shall drink it himself, and we will have
another.” “Not on any account,” said I, “without you will allow me to pay
for it.” “That will never do,” cried all of them. Another of a smaller
size was ordered, out of which I drank his success. I remained nearly half
an hour, during which time the large bowl was drained to the last dregs in
spite of its parchment flavour, and the parchment was, what the mids
called, returned high and dry to the owner of it, with the writing on it
nearly effaced. I remarked they ought certainly to have a patent for
wetting commissions, and wished them a pleasant evening.
On returning on board I found a note for me from the captain, to acquaint
me that we were to sail in a few days for Black River, in order to collect
a homeward-bound convoy, as we were ordered to England. I withdrew my
heart from the different little snug rooms I had left it in, and placed it
on the right hook. I was so much elated that my dinner went from table
untouched. I kept conjuring up Paradises, Elysian fields, and a number of
other places never heard of, inhabited by women more beautiful than
Eastern imagery can possibly describe—so fair, so chaste, so lovely, and
so domestic. “Oh!” said I aloud, to the astonishment of my messmates, who
were much occupied with their knives and forks, “give me but one of those
fair ones, and I will not eat my dinner for a month.” “Hulloa!” said the
surgeon, “what’s the matter with you?” “Nothing,” replied I; “the illusion
is vanished, and I will take a glass of wine with you. I cannot eat, my
mind is too full of England, and my heart crowded with its delightful fair
ones. What unfeeling sea monsters you are all of you,” continued I, “to be
eating with such voracious appetites when you know we are going to
glorious England—the land of freedom and genuine hospitality.” “Not so
fast,” said he, interrupting me; “how long is it since you were there?”
“Nearly eight years,” said I. “I fear,” resumed he, “you will not have
your dreams—for dreams they are—verified. I was there eighteen months ago,
and found freedom in the mouths of the lower classes, who evidently did
not understand the meaning of it, and when they did they only used it as a
cloak to do mischief, for demagoguing—if you will allow the term—was the
order of the day at that time, and as for hospitality that has, as you may
express yourself, made sail and gone to cruise into some other climate. I
had letters to two families from their relations in India; they asked me
to dinner in a stiff, formal manner, and thought, I suppose, they had
performed wonders. There our acquaintance ended. I am an Irishman,”
continued he, “and I assert without partiality that there is more real
hospitality in my land of praters than in all Europe. Freedom we will not
talk about; but as for the women, dear creatures, they are a mixture of
roses and lilies, and such busts, like dairy maids, sure,” said he; “don’t
say anything more about them, or I shall be what has never happened to an
Irishman yet—out of spirits.” “Now,” said I, “doctor, we have found you
out. You lost your heart when in England, and were not requited by the
cruel fair one.” “Fair or foul,” answered he, “I would not give one
Munster girl for a dozen English. To be sure,” added he to a young Irish
midshipman, whose turn it was to dine in the gun-room, “they are rather
thick about the trotters, and their heels are to be compared to their red
potatoes, but the upper part of their figures—say no more. Come, messmate,
let’s drink a speedy passage and soon, as a worthy alderman did at a
Guildhall dinner.” “You mistake, doctor,” said the second lieutenant, “he
gave for a toast, a speedy peace and soon.” “Never mind,” said the doctor,
“it will be all the same a hundred years hence; an Irishman is always
allowed to speak twice.” Our parting with our washerwomen and other
friends was pathetic in the extreme; their precious tears were sufficient
to fill several (but as I did not measure them I cannot say how many)
monkeys.
“Oh, Gramercy, my lob!” said my lady to me, “I neber shall see you no
more; but I hope dat you member dat Julia lob you more den he can tell.
No,” said she, turning aside, “nobody can lob like poor me one, Julia.”
She appeared overwhelmed with grief, and I felt my situation awkward and
pathetically silly, as she had followed me down to the boat, and the eyes
of several boats’ crews with their young, laughing wicked mids, were on
us. I shook hands for the last time and jumped into the boat with a tear
rolling down my cheek from my starboard eye. Reader, I beg you will not
pity me, for I was not in love. I was what an old maiden cousin would have
called imprudent.