WITH SLAVE CONVOY.
Return to Sierra Leone—Dinner party aboard—Sail with convoy of
five slave-ships—How the slaves were obtained—Arrive
Barbadoes—Sail for Tobago and Trinidad—Visit Pitch Lake—To
Jamaica—Cruising off Cuba—Futile attempt on two Spanish
privateers—Capture small Spanish privateer—Return to
Jamaica—Arrange exchange with captain of home-going ship—A
challenge to Spanish corvette declined by the latter.
Finding little and seeing less, I repaired on board and made sail for
Sierra Leone, where we anchored next morning. I went on shore and dined
with the Governor, and the day following received an invitation to a
dinner from the principal merchants, which I accepted, and was introduced
to the native king who had sold the settlement to the English. He was
dressed in an embroidered blue silk coat, white satin waistcoat and
inexpressibles, with a gold-laced cocked hat and a pair of heavy
ammunition shoes. He wore no stockings, he was old and ugly, and his shins
were sharp and curved. I gave him an invitation to dine on board, which he
declined. Before we sailed, I joined a picnic party to Bence Island, which
is situated about fourteen miles up the river from Free Town. We dined
there very pleasantly, and one of the merchants made me a present of a
collection of insects and handsome shells, in return for which I sent him
some views. The 21st of October falling on the day before our departure, I
asked the Governor, the officers of the regiment, and the merchants to
dine on board. We dressed the ship and decorated the quarter-deck. At five
o’clock we sat down to a dinner, consisting of all the delicacies of
Sierra Leone and the ship’s provision. Port and madeira circulated freely,
and the company began to get in high spirits; and as there were two white
ladies, wives of the two military commanding officers, who accompanied
their husbands, a dance was proposed on the quarter-deck. The only
musicians we could muster were the marine drummer, ship’s fifer, and my
steward, who performed on the clarionet. I opened the ball with the
Honourable Mrs. Forbes, and was followed by most of the others, until it
became too ridiculous, as few knew anything about dancing. Before
confusion became rife I proposed singing. My steward sung in the style of
Incledon, and he was much applauded; and one of the marines, after the
manner of Braham—he also had his share of applause and encores. Punch was
now the order of the night, and, after laying in a good stock, they all
ordered their canoes and paddled on shore, huzzaing the whole time. The
Governor had taken his departure in one of the ship’s boats some time
before, to avoid the uproar. I shall not mention the toasts that were
given; as we were all loyal and true, they were the quintessence of
loyalty. The morning before sailing I breakfasted at the Fort. The convoy,
consisting of five sail, were ready. I bid an affectionate farewell to the
Governor, who had been uniformly kind, and I was soon on board, where I
found a note from the Honourable Captain Forbes, and one from the
Governor. The first was to beg I would accept some excellent bacon, a
beautiful live fawn, and some cane mats. The last was accompanied by a
fine crown bird, which stood five feet high, two dozen fowls, and some
Muscovy ducks. My feelings were quite overcome by so much genuine
kindness, and I shall ever retain it in grateful recollection, and I have
real pleasure in recording it in this narrative.
I must not omit to inform my readers that during the time I was at Bence
Island, which was the great mart for slave dealing, forty of those
unfortunate beings arrived, most of them half famished. The principal
merchant, who was a mulatto, told me that the greater part of them had
been pledged for rice, which is the principal food in Africa, that they
had not been redeemed at the time appointed, and in consequence had become
the property of those who supplied the food. The remainder were those
taken prisoners in the skirmishes occasioned by their trespassing on each
other’s ground, particularly on the rice patches when the grain was nearly
ripe. A black woman offered me her son, a boy about eleven years of age,
for a cob—about four-and-sixpence. I gave her the money, and advised her
to keep her son. Poor thing! she stared with astonishment, and instantly
gave me one of her earrings, which was made of small shells. It was like
the widow’s mite, all she had to bestow. We were soon under sail, and next
morning Africa was as a dream; it was no longer seen.
During the passage in fine weather I myself or some of the officers
visited the Guinea men, and found them orderly and clean, and the slaves
healthy. On the seventh week we arrived at Barbadoes, saw Lady Rodney,
Sally Neblet, and several more of the true Barbadian born, drawling,
dignity ladies, who entreated in no very dignified manner to “hab de
honour for wash for massa captain.” I gave the preference to the relict of
Lord Rodney, as she was the oldest acquaintance, and remembered me when I
was “a lilly piccaninny midshipman.” I paid my respects to the Admiral,
Sir Alex. Cochrane, who asked me to dinner, where I met the Governor and
some more bigwigs. The Admiral’s secretary, Maxwell, who appeared to have
a snug berth in the country, requested me to dine with him the day after,
and he sent a kittereen, or one-horse gig, for me. I met at dinner some
brother officers and a few military men. Our entertainment did credit to
the donor, who appeared a hospitable, frank kind of man. In the evening I
went on board, and next morning received a chest of money for the troops
at Tobago. At noon we cheered the flagship and sailed. On the evening of
the following day we anchored at Tobago, got rid of the soldiers’ money,
and sailed next morning for Trinidad, which we made the same evening, but
owing to the strong current opposing us through the Boca Chien, or, as it
is otherwise called, the Great Dragon’s Mouth, we did not gain the
anchorage before noon on the following day.
On opening a sealed order I had received from the Commander-in-Chief at
Barbadoes I found I was to take on board some casks of lime juice for the
men of the hospitals of Jamaica. Thinks I to myself, this is what Mr. Hume
would have, in the Commons House, called jobbery, and a poor kind of job
it turned out; for, on inspecting the lime juice at Port Royal, some of it
was condemned as unfit for use. The two days I remained at Trinidad I
dined with the Governor, Sir Thos. Heslip, who was urbanity itself. I
visited the pitch lake at this place, which is a most extraordinary
phenomenon. I remarked several large chasms in it, where small fish were
enjoying themselves. I was told by the officer who accompanied me that the
pitch could not be applied to any use. Whilst we were looking at it one of
the smaller chasms, or rents, closed with a bubbling noise, and the water
above it appeared as if boiling. At daylight on the third day I sailed
with the convoy for Jamaica, and anchored at Port Royal. The day after I
waited on the Admiral at the Pen, where I dined, and met a number of my
brother officers, whose conversation after dinner was principally
respecting their ships. As the ship I commanded was healthy I was, if
possible, determined to keep her so, and I requested permission to sail on
a long cruise as soon as we were refitted. The Pen, or the Government
House, where the Admiral resides, is about three short miles from
Greenwich. It is enclosed in a park, and the views from it are extensive
and beautiful. Some of my former parti-coloured beauties of Port Royal had
gone on the other tack—that is, they had taken up their everlasting abode
among the land crabs on the Palisades, and as I partook of those
crustaceous fish I very possibly might have eaten some part of them. If I
did, I thought them very good.
The yellow fever was making rapid strides on board the squadron. It
fortunately did not reach us, and we sailed on the tenth day after our
arrival. My cruising ground was between the north side of Jamaica and
Cuba. I frequently sighted the Moro Castle at the entrance of the river
where I was formerly taken prisoner and sent to the town of St. Jago. The
good Spanish Governor’s kindness held a lively recollection in my memory,
but the captain of an American vessel who had sailed from thence the day
before I fell in with him, informed me that he was numbered with the dead.
Peace to his “manes.” We had been out a fortnight when one afternoon we
fell in with two large Spanish schooner privateers. They were to windward,
and standing for St. Jago. “Now,” thought I, “if I can get you once under
our guns, I will pay off old scores.” The sea breeze was fresh, and we
were closing fast. They at first, I believe, took us for an American, as I
had hoisted the Yankee colours. When they came nearly within gun-shot
they, unfortunately for us, saw their mistake, and hauled in for the
shore. I tacked, and had got within gun-shot of them, when the lower fort
of the Moro opened its fire on us, one of the shot passing through the
main top-sail. They also fired, and their shot went over us. Finding the
breeze lulling, and that we had no hope of capturing them, I gave them our
passing broadsides, and as one of them yawed, I had reason to believe some
of our shot took effect. The battery gave us a parting salute without
doing us injury, when, as the evening was closing, and the enemy’s vessels
had run into the mouth of the river, I was obliged to haul off.
After blockading the mouth of the river for ten days without the slightest
prospect of success, I anchored at Montego Bay, and procured fresh beef
for the crew. During the two days I remained at anchor I was invited, with
some of my officers, to the ball given by the inhabitants. It was well
attended, and I was agreeably surprised to meet so many of my fair
countrywomen, some of whom were handsome and still in their teens. I soon
became acquainted with several respectable families, and if my heart had
not been in safe keeping in beloved England by a still more beloved being,
I fear I should have lost it. Montego Bay is well fortified, and the town
and its background, consisting of several ranges of hills and mountains,
form a rich and pleasing picture. On the morning of the third day we
sailed, and were soon on our former cruising ground. Off Ochre Bay we
started a small Spanish privateer, which ran into a creek. I sent the
boats armed in pursuit of her, and after a smart contest of a quarter of
an hour, in which the gunner and one of the men were wounded, they brought
her out. The crew had landed and taken her gun—a six-pounder—with them,
which did the mischief to our boats. The gun they threw into deep water,
after having spiked it. She was a small schooner, about seventy-five tons.
I kept her as a tender, put an eighteen-pound carronade, a master’s mate,
and twenty men on board her, and a few days afterwards she captured a very
pretty schooner coming round Cape Mayzi.
My time being expired, I bore up for Jamaica with my two prizes, and
arrived at Port Royal on the second day. My health, which had been
delicate since leaving Africa, began to decline, and I was tormented with
a rash, particularly in my face, which affected my eyesight. I had, at
different periods, been twelve years on the West India station, and I
thought I had had a sufficient share of a torrid zone. The Admiral,
hearing of my indisposition, invited me for change of air to the Pen. This
kindness, however, did but little good to my health. One morning, as I was
strolling in the Park, calling the crown bird I had given to the Admiral,
and feeding him and some Curaçoa birds which were his companions, I was
accosted by the captain of a sloop of war who was ordered to take a convoy
of mahogany ships from Honduras to England, and in the course of
conversation he mentioned that he understood I intended to give up my ship
and invalid. “Whoever informed you that I intended to invalid,” I replied,
“must have laboured under a gross mistake. I would rather go to ‘Kingdom
come’ quietly than run from my post.” “Well,” said he, “be it so, but if
the Admiral were to consent to your exchanging with me, as I am almost a
Johnny Newcome in this part of the world, and you are an old standard,
would this accord with your way of thinking?” “As I am so unwell,”
returned I, “it certainly is a great temptation, but we must both have the
Admiral’s opinion and consent, and I will give you an answer in two days,
provided I do not get better, and Fishly, the builder, shall give me his
opinion respecting your sloop, whether Government, on my arrival in
England, will consider her an effective ship.”
He met me at the builder’s at Port Royal the following day, when the
latter assured me the ship’s repairs would be comparatively trifling, and
that he was certain, as those class of vessels were much wanted in the
Channel, she would be kept in commission. Three days afterwards we
effected the exchange, and I sailed to cruise again off Cuba for six
weeks. Working up against a fiery sea breeze tries the minds of those on
board as well as the rigging, masts and yards of His Majesty’s ships. A
few top-masts sprung and yards carried away are trifles, and you may think
yourself fortunate if it does not happen to a lower mast. We looked into
Tiberoon, crossed over to Cape St. Nicholas Mole, beat up between the
island of Tortuga and the larger island, overhauled the Grange and Cape
François, took a small row-boat with six swivels and fourteen
sharp-looking, smutty-coloured gentlemen, destroyed her, and bore up for
the north side of Cuba, where we captured a small Balaker schooner, who
informed us that a Spanish corvette of eighteen guns was lying at
Barracow. I immediately proceeded off that port, and finding the
information correct, sent her a challenge, and that I should remain three
days waiting for her. I might as well have sent my defiance to the
Eddystone lighthouse. She sent word that I might remain three years if I
chose. The harbour was difficult to enter, and well fortified, otherwise
her three years would not have been three hours before we were alongside
of her. I remained a week watching her movements, which, by-the-bye, were
no movements at all except that she had struck her top-masts and hauled
further inshore. Finding hope, respecting her, hopeless, and our cruise at
its last gasp, I stood close in and fired a gun unshotted by way of
showing our contempt, which probably the Spaniards laughed at, and made
sail once more for Jamaica.