Clark becomes a Sailor.--Privateering.--His Subsequent
Reflections.--Last Visit to his Parents.--Sails as Mate to the
West Indies.--Pressed on Board the Man-of-War Tobago.--A Fight,
and Death of the Gunner.--Admiral Rodney.--Escapes from the
Tobago.--Visits his Brother.--Ships for England.--Taken by
the Spaniards.--Obtains his Freedom, and again Pressed on Board
the Narcissus.--Deserts a Second Time, and Swims Ashore on James’
Island, off Charleston, at Great Risk.
The propensity of young Clark to a sea-faring life remained ungratified
until he was twenty years old. Much as he desired to see the world, and
repulsive as was the conduct of his father to his sensitive feelings,
John had no wish to run away clandestinely--to leave his affectionate
mother and sisters, or to reject the monitions of his conscience. He
patiently waited until the proper time should come; until he attained
the period of manhood, and could go with his parent’s blessing. And
then, even filial affection and true philanthropy, prevailed over a
churlish and selfish temper, and prompted him to regard the welfare of
his parents to his own personal interests.
It was in the summer of 1778, in the twentieth year of his age, that
John Clark embraced the opportunity of carrying into effect his darling
purpose of life, by engaging in the transport service. But to this he
was induced by higher motives than a selfish indulgence. His education
had been completed, and he had spent some time copying in the town
and county office of Inverness. To the close of his life he wrote in
a style of uncommon neatness and accuracy. This employment furnished
no income beyond ordinary expenses. The extravagance and dissipation
of his father, had nearly reduced the family to want. The riches
realized from their uncle Daniel’s estate, gained doubtless by fraud
and extortion, from the Indians of Georgia, had made themselves wings
and flown away.[2] The farm in Petty was left, but the income was
barely sufficient for their support, and nothing can prosper under the
management of an intemperate husband and father; and John piously and
resolutely resolved to do his best in the business of his choice, to
keep their heads above water.
He embarked in the transport service, at low wages.[3] Finding, on his
return, that his father’s extravagance was fast wasting away their
means of support, and hoping to obtain in a more speedy way the means
of relief, he went to Greenock and entered on board a privateer;
and the voyage was so successful in capturing two valuable merchant
vessels, that in less than a year he returned home with his wages and
share of the prize money, amounting to more than $200. Of that business
then regarded lawful and honorable in war, fifty years after, he writes
thus:
“This unchristian, inhuman, and almost piratical practice, was
never permitted in Scotland before that war. But my moral feelings
by this time began to be impaired, for my situation in life
deprived me of the company of the godly, and ‘evil communications
corrupt good manners.’[4] Although my conscience recoiled at doing
that which I was not willing others should do to me, yet I made
necessity my excuse, and pleaded the example of those who I then
thought knew more and were better than I was.”
After remaining with his parents a few days, and leaving all the money
he could spare, for their use, he gave them the parting hand, and in
accordance with a promise made with one of the owners of the privateer,
he entered as mate one of the prize ships taken, called the Hero, for a
voyage to the West Indies. There he intended to join his brother, and
engage in business with him.
Little did he anticipate this was the last parting time with his
parents, but let him tell the story.
“I shall never forget the morning I left them. My mother, who loved
me most tenderly, when we parted, expressed, with the greatest
confidence, without shedding a tear, that God would preserve me by
land and by sea, from every danger. My father walked with me about
one mile to a small river where I had appointed to meet a young
man with a horse for me to ride to Port Glasgow, near Greenock,
where the ship was to fit out; and as we parted, my dear old
father wept like a child. Very likely he had forebodings he would
never again fix his paternal eyes on me, for he was infirm, and
his constitution much broken by intemperate habits. This was in
May, 1779, and he died in the autumn following. I left my friends
mourning, while I went away rejoicing; for though I intended to
follow a sea-faring life for a few years, I fancied it was in my
own power to see them whenever I pleased. I little imagined that
man may appoint, but God may disappoint.
“I went on my way merrily, without the least thought that Unerring
Wisdom had set the day of adversity over against the day of
prosperity, to the end that man should find nothing after him.[5]
According to my engagement, I shipped with my friend, the owner’s
son, on the Hero as second mate, from Port Glasgow, to the Cove of
Cork in Ireland, where we waited for a convoy. There we were joined
by a large fleet of victuallers, store ships, and transports, with
one or two regiments of Hessians, for the port of New York. Our
vessel and some others was bound for the West Indies. We set sail
under convoy[6] of the frigate Roebuck, of forty-four guns. The
convoy and transports were destined for New York, and we that were
bound to the West Indies sailed in company to a certain latitude,
when we parted, and were then under convoy of the Leviathan, of
seventy guns, and a sloop of war of sixteen guns. Then I began
to notice and examine God’s marvellous works in the boisterous
deep. Nothing transpired during the passage worth relating until
we got to Barbadoes, and there I was pressed on board the Tobago,
a British war vessel of eighteen guns. Here ended my prosperity
and adversity came. Or shall I say this seeming affliction was
a blessing in disguise, intended by Infinite Wisdom for my
everlasting good?
“My wages on the Hero were forty-five dollars, for which I sent an
order to my mother that she might receive it. Although my mother
out-lived my father seven years, I afterwards learned with great
satisfaction neither my father nor mother suffered for want of the
necessaries or comforts of life while they lived; for many years
after I learnt my mother left upwards of sixty dollars of the
wages I had sent her.”
Mr. Clark was now a sailor, pressed by arbitrary authority on board
the British man-of-war, Tobago, and lying in the harbor of Carlisle,
in the Island of Barbadoes, to prevent American and French privateers
from plundering the plantations in the bays and road-steads of that
Island. This business was against all his principles and feelings; for
in all his longings for a sea-faring life, it never entered into his
calculations to serve on board a man-of-war. Let him give his own views
and feelings:
“I was continually unhappy while in the navy, and would have
ventured my life to have obtained my former liberty. I made an
unsuccessful attempt to escape the night before the ship left
Barbadoes, but was detected, and both my feet put in irons, and a
sentinel placed over me, with a candle and a drawn sword, the whole
night. Next morning the ship weighed anchor, and steered on our
course. Great Britain was then at war with three maritime nations,
and we suspected every ship that passed, especially if alone, to be
a cruiser and an enemy.
“Before night we espied a ship bearing down towards us, when our
ship prepared for action. The boatswain blew his pipe, and hoarsely
bawled, ‘All hands to quarters, ahoy!’ My irons were taken off,
and after a severe reprimand, I was ordered to my post. When we
came within hailing distance, we found the ship to be the Venus,
a British frigate, and passed, after giving and exchanging three
cheers.”
They were about three months lying off and on, upon cruizing ground,
in the Caribbean Sea, very short of provisions. Their butter, cheese,
flour, lard, and fruit, failed entirely, and much of the time they were
on short allowance, when they joined the fleet lying at St. Lucia. The
force consisted of two squadrons, one commanded by Admiral Parker, the
other by that truly pious Admiral Rolly, as Clark denotes him. The
French fleet lay at Martinique, not far distant, but were too numerous
and powerful to risk an encounter. So the British lay in the harbor,
with springs on their cables, waiting for a reinforcement, and fresh
supplies of provisions and naval stores. The French were waiting to be
reinforced by the Spanish fleet and land-forces from Hispaniola, (now
Hayti,) and both united, purposed to invade the Island of Jamaica. The
British Government, knowing the precarious situation of that valuable
island, made every effort to send relief, but they were hard pressed
by the war in the American Colonies, and they needed an energetic, and
skillful commander, to save their West India possessions.
They had a naval officer of great skill and courage, but he had been
absent many years on the continent of Europe. This was the celebrated
Sir George Brydges Rodney, who had distinguished himself in the West
Indies, in 1761, by the capture of Martinique. He was an admirable
commander in the navy, but while on land, was profligate, and had
wasted his estate, and become hopelessly in debt. In this situation
he left England to reside on the continent of Europe. His biographer
says, “He injured his finances in a contested election for Parliament
in 1768.” The French government made some overtures to him, which would
have repaired his fortune, but he rejected them with indignation, and
remained true to his native country.
Such was the alarming state of affairs in the West Indies that the
government called home Sir G. B. Rodney, paid his debts, redeemed
his estates, and gave him the chief command of the fleet in the West
Indies. This policy, probably, prevented Jamaica from falling into the
hands of France or Spain. Admiral Rodney, with a reinforcement, joined
the fleet at St. Lucia; and, as Clark says, “It was the best equipped
squadron I ever saw.”
Rodney soon captured a Spanish squadron, and used the prisoners with
great humanity. This became known to Charles III., the venerable king
of Spain, and he issued orders to his naval and military officers to
treat all British prisoners humanely.
The arrival of Admiral Rodney at St. Lucia, was the occasion of great
joy in the fleet, which had been penned up there for many months,
and the French in turn were blockaded in the Island of Martinique,
and could not join the Spanish fleet in Hispaniola. While Rodney was
watching the French and Spanish fleets, the Tobago, on which our friend
Clark had been forced by a press-gang, was ordered to Jamaica with
despatches in all possible haste. On this voyage Clark narrates an
incident deserving a place in this little work.
“We had a venerable man on board our ship for chief gunner, who,
from some unknown cause, had taken a dislike to me, and never gave
me a kind word. One beautiful, moonlight night, while sailing near
Hispaniola, it was my turn at the helm, and I was astonished at
the unexpected behavior of the gunner to me. He approached me with
as much respect as if I had been his superior in rank or station.
Had he been an intemperate man, I should have accounted for his
conduct, as some men are remarkably good natured while under the
influence of liquor, and others are very cross and surly. But he
was a moral man and never became intoxicated. He appeared in his
conversation like a person who had done with this world, and in
kind and respectful language gave me a sketch of his life. He had
been in the British navy forty years; but the subject on which he
dwelt with the most feeling was the bursting of cannon in action;
and expressed with an emphatic tone of voice, he had never known a
gun “expended”[7] but that a gunner was expended with it.
Next day after dinner as we were sailing near the same Island, an
armed brig popped out from the Island and gave us a chase. Our
business required haste, and we could not stay merely to fight, and
we endeavored to decoy her near by housing our guns. Suspecting our
manœuvres, she fired two guns, and altered her course. We, in turn,
intended to fire a broadside soon as we could bring our guns to
bear. But, alas! the sixth gun we fired burst, and mortally wounded
three men, and maimed several others for life.
Our venerable gunner had one foot entirely cut off, and the other
hung by his leg. The surgeon told him, he could not survive, and he
called for his mate, and told him to adjust his temporal affairs
with the Board of Admiralty, and with great composure of mind, and
in hope of mercy, he yielded up his spirit.”
This incident made a lasting impression on the mind of Clark. The
manner of his approach the preceding night, the long and somewhat
religious conversation he held, the premonition he seemed to entertain
of the approaching calamity, and his sober, orderly and correct life
left the fixed impression that the gunner was a Christian. A young man
had his skull fractured by the same gun, and Clark stood by and saw the
surgeon trepan him, while he exhibited the greatest degree of fortitude
and patience. The wounded men were all sent to the hospital in Jamaica,
where this youth died.
The fleet they had left behind under Rodney soon had an opportunity
to act on the offensive. The French fleet that had been blockaded
were reinforced by Count de Grasse, and made an attempt to join the
Spanish fleet. They were followed by Admiral Rodney, who sunk one of
the largest vessels and captured five others. For this act of naval
heroism, he was created a baronet, had a pension of two thousand pounds
sterling per annum settled on him by the crown, and at his decease in
1792, a monument was erected in St. Paul’s church, London.
The Tobago, on which Clark was, needing repairs, she was hove down
for the purpose in Port Royal. In consideration of his fidelity and
good conduct after his attempt to desert, Mr. Clark was promoted to
the station of quarter-master. This did not reconcile him to the war,
nor to the despotism of the officers, and the sufferings of the men
on board of a war vessel. He was still resolved on escaping the first
opportunity, for as he had been forced on board a man-of-war, in
violation of his rights, he thought it no wrong to escape the first
opportunity. In company with two other young men he escaped one night,
and reached Savannah La Mar, a port on the south-western part of the
Island. Here he found a ship taking in lading for London; and so
weak-handed, that they scarcely had men enough to heave the anchor.
Clark and his comrades were employed at once and helped load the ship;
and in great haste to be off, or the time of their insurance would
expire. “Here,” he states, “for the first and last time in my life, I
worked on the Sabbath for double wages.”
When the Captain paid off Clark and his companions, he used a stratagem
to induce them to work the ship to England. The wages then were forty
guineas and forty gallons of rum for the voyage; but John Clark had
resolved to visit his brother, according to a promise he made his
mother when he parted with her, and no high wages or other inducement
would tempt him to break his promise. The Captain professed great
generosity, and proposed treating Clark and a young man who was to be
his traveling companion, to French brandy; and as Clark suspected with
drugged liquor, in order to detain them. He drank but little, while his
comrade praised the liquor and took it freely. They had not proceeded
far before the young man’s legs gave out, and they were compelled to
stop at a strange house till next morning. During the night, the young
man was robbed of all he had, and being destitute, Clark, as a genuine
sailor, and benevolent withal, divided his purse with his unfortunate
friend. And he moralizes on it in this language:--“So here I saw the
fruits of Sabbath-breaking and trifling company.” But on looking back
on the events of providence from the pinnacle of three score and ten,
he says:--
“I now find that it was the interposition of a particular
providence of Him, who is loving and mindful of all his creatures,
that the forty guineas and forty gallons of rum, and the French
brandy made no impression on my mind to induce me to alter my
intentions, and especially my promise to the best of mothers.”
He learned at a later period, that though the ship got to her place of
rendezvous, yet before the fleet was ready to sail to England, it was
overtaken by a most furious hurricane, and the ship he aided to load,
was stranded, about a quarter of a mile from the beach. The cargo was
lost, and the wicked Captain and every sailor on board perished. Clark
adds, “So fatal was that storm on that ungodly people, (the inhabitants
of Savannah la Mar,) that there was scarcely as many left, as would
bury the dead in proper season.”
Mr. Clark traveled across the Island to find his brother, and then
went to work to obtain money enough to purchase decent clothes,
before he would venture into the presence of his brother, who lived
in a decent family, and was much respected. He earned money, but
Providence seemed to frown on him, for he lost it, and all he had. So
he says, “I resolved at last to see my brother, just as I was in my
tarpaulin dress, as sinners ought to come to the Saviour, without any
righteousness of their own.”
After informing his brother of his career, he blamed him much for
leaving the navy; for the education he had and the position he attained
would have insured his promotion, and he might have obtained wealth
and dignity. He soon found there was no employment he could obtain
at Montego bay, and be near his brother, unless it was that of
book-keeper on some plantation, and that was an unprofitable business.
His brother had become addicted to intemperance, and seemed to be
following the course of his unhappy father.
While waiting and undetermined what to do, a Letter of Marque[8]
belonging to Glasgow came into Montego bay, and Mr. Clark engaged as a
hand, and set out for his native country.
All now seemed encouraging, and he felt thankful to God that he should
soon see his parents and sisters again. But while sailing in the Gulf
of Mexico, the vessel was attacked and taken by two Spanish frigates of
superior force, and the crew were carried prisoners to Havana, in the
Island of Cuba. Here Clark remained a prisoner of war nineteen months.
Formerly the Spanish authorities treated their English prisoners with
great cruelty, but since the humane regimen of Admiral Rodney and the
orders of the King of Spain, already noticed, their treatment was
kind and humane. But to be confined in a prison, though provided with
wholesome food and other necessaries, was by no means pleasant; and the
time wore away slowly.
A cartel being arranged, Clark and other prisoners were liberated and
soon on shipboard.[9] With gladsome hearts and active hands, they heard
the boatswain sing out, “heave O!” as the anchor was raised and the
sails unfurled to the winds of heaven; and soon they were ploughing the
rippling waves towards a land of freedom. The wind proved favorable,
and in a few days they were at anchor off Charleston, outside the
bar. Here the good fortune of Clark was again reversed. The eye of an
infinite Providence was fixed on this man; his steps were mysteriously
directed in all his wanderings, and it was needful he should pass
through other and more severe trials, until as gold well-refined, he
should be fitted for the Master’s use. Mr. Clark expected to be landed
in a maritime port, and have eight days allowed him to choose a vessel
and berth. But an hour had not passed before a recruiting officer and
press-gang were on board, and poor Clark and several others were again
_pressed_ on board another man-of-war by British authority.
Surely there is no condition of servitude so galling to humanity, and
so directly a violation of human rights, and so subversive of rational
liberty, as the infamous press-gang in the British navy. We rejoice
that the just and humane sentiments of the age, have mitigated, though
not entirely removed, this odious form of despotism in the British
government. Through the operation of such oppression, Mr. Clark found
himself on board the Narcissus, of twenty guns, and most unwillingly
held in the service of George III. Read his own remarks on the subject.
“Now, I was more determined than ever to obtain my liberty. The
love of liberty is implanted in our very nature, and nothing can
supply the lack of it. We fared well on board the Narcissus; we had
the best of fresh meat when it could be obtained, besides butter,
cheese, plum-pudding, and a pint of Madeira wine for each day, but
all that could not supply the lack of rational liberty.
“The people of the slaveholding States ought to consider this
well; for the spirit of liberty is like a magazine full of powder.
If it takes fire, it will consume all within its reach, and the
danger increases daily. Many slaveholders sincerely conclude that
if they work their slaves moderately, clothe and feed them well,
the slaves ought to be contented, but Scripture, sound philosophy,
and experience--yes, my own experience--prove such arguments to be
sophistry. For although I fared on board the Narcissus as well as I
could reasonably desire, yet I was more discontented than ever. So
I found the old saying verified,--”
‘Feed me with ambrosia;
Wash it down with Nectar;
And what will it avail, if liberty be wanting.’
My desires for liberty and peace were so great, that death or
liberty was the constant language of my heart.”
About this time the British evacuated Savannah, and the Narcissus was
appointed a convoy to the transports that moved the refugees from that
city to St. Augustine. After performing this duty, the ship returned
and lay off Charleston again. Orders were issued to sail to New York,
and the night previous Clark and his mess-mates were employed in making
preparations for the voyage.
After being discharged from duty, and while at their mess, John Scott
and John Clark were invited to join another mess and take grog. The
proposal was then made to Clark and his messmate, to obtain their
liberty that night by swimming to James’ Island, it being from one and
a-half to two miles distant. The plan was arranged by Clark to strip
in the bow of the ship, all but their trowsers, and swim at first
straight ahead in a quartering direction, until they could no longer be
seen from the ship, and then turn in the course of the island. He was
chosen to take the lead, and he dashed ahead in the direction he had
chosen. The others made some delay, as Clark was to turn on his back
and wait for them. He found, on trial, the salt water so dashed over
his face, that he was compelled to swim for his life. His situation
became extremely perilous; the rippling waves dashed in his face and he
began to despair of life. And now he became alarmed at the prospect of
immediate death, and his sins rushed on his conscience to that degree
that even in the perilous condition he was, he dared not to pray for
deliverance. The prayers of his mother seemed to ring in his ears, and
in his disturbed imagination the spray that beat upon his face were
her scalding tears. Like flashes of lightning his sins pierced his
conscience, and the terrors of the law, like peals of thunder, rolled
over his sinking soul. Such were his views of his sin and guilt, while
swimming for his life, that he dared not pray, lest his cries to heaven
for mercy should provoke the vengeance of an angry God to sink him in
the deep. But let him tell his own experience from his journal at this
terrible crisis.
“I expected to launch into the presence of a frowning and
sin-avenging God, whose tender mercies for many years I had
trampled under my ungodly feet;--I had broken many promises of
amendment;--a yawning hell seemed moving from beneath, at the
ocean’s depth, to meet me on my sinking. Human language cannot
express the agitation of my mind, and such was my perturbation for
a time, that my strength failed me to such a degree that I could
hardly keep myself from sinking. I would willingly have sunk, but
the thought of dying without the hope of mercy, was so terrible
that I resolved to swim as long as I could keep my head above
water, or until deprived of my senses, or till some greedy shark,
of which the harbor was never clear, should devour me, and put an
end to my struggling.”
The impression of dying under the curse of God’s violated law, thrilled
through his nerves like an electric shock, and he felt in an instant
increased vigor, and swam with greater ease. He could not see the land,
and when despairing of deliverance, he found a ship at anchor about 200
yards from him, and two miles from any other vessel, and hope inspired
his heart and nerved his arms to further effort, and he resolved to
board the vessel, knowing that some of the sailors would give him
clothes and help him to land. But all was still. Both officers and men
were on shore, or in the city of Charleston. He found an old, ragged,
and greasy shirt, and a small boat moored to the ship, but conscience
demurred: “How can you be guilty of such iniquity, of taking other
men’s property, when God has wrought such a deliverance?” But reason
responded: “It is no more than I would cheerfully allow others to do
to me under a change of circumstances.”
He got into the boat with the least noise possible, cast her loose,
and sculled toward the land. A light breeze springing up he hoisted
his oar for a mast, the old shirt for a sail, shipped the rudder and
sailed for James’ Island. After tying the boat so that it might be
found by the owners, he crept into a hay-stack and rested till morning.
After waking, much refreshed from the fatigue and exposure of the past
night, Clark sought a position where, undiscovered, he might watch the
movements of the Narcissus. At sunrise her morning gun boomed over
the waters, and with joyful emotions he saw the signal hoisted for
her departure. The wind was fair, and the dreaded ship was soon under
weigh, and was soon out of sight.