Mr. Clark arrives at Charleston.--Meets with Friends.--Interview
with John Scott.--The Story and Fate of Duncan.--Alarmed, and
Relieved by an Old Shipmate.--Stationed on Cooper River.--
Returns to Charleston.--Protected by Three Scotch Tailors.--
They all Escape.--Adventures in a Swamp.--Reach Gen. Marion’s
Army.--Clark Proceeds to Georgetown.--Enters a Row-galley and
reaches Savannah.--Sails to St. Thomas.--Voyage to New York.--
Proclamation of Peace.--Returns to the West Indies.--Shipwreck.
--Various Voyages.--Distress of Mind.--Forsakes a Sea-faring
Life.
At that time transport ships were collecting in the harbor, and waiting
to carry off the troops, for the British were about to evacuate the
town. This was in 1782. James Island, where Mr. Clark got on land, is a
large island south-east and opposite Charleston, across Ashley river,
and is separated from the ocean by Folly Island and a channel between;
and has several other islands contiguous. Clark says, after noticing
the departure of the ship:--
“The next thing that occupied my mind, was, how I would get to
Charleston, and what would I do there? I thought that with an old,
greasy and torn shirt, and a pair of trowsers as my only covering,
every one would take me for an idiot, or at least a worthless
vagabond. Could I have seen then as I now see, the hand of HIM who
makes sparrows, ravens, lions and other creatures objects of his
care; and that all his dispensations towards the children of men
are tokens of his paternal love, and means to instruct us;--that
without HIM we can do nothing;--if I had then seen these things as
I now do, I might have enjoyed peace with God, and been delivered
from all tormenting fear. But I was blinded by unbelief or I should
have known that what I had experienced the night before of the
goodness of God in my preservation would have inspired me with hope
for the future.”
He soon found a negro hut where he obtained food, and was told he could
get a passage to Charleston in a fishing boat. All this time Mr. Clark
knew nothing of the fate of his four comrades, who he was confident had
followed him, and who, he supposed, were in the ocean, or in nautical
language had “gone to Davy Jones’ locker.” He was taken in a fishing
boat across the wide river, and landed at the upper wharf, which he
regarded as a providential favor, for it gave him opportunity to keep
out of the way of the officers of the navy, and find amongst the common
sailors some old shipmate who might aid him in his necessities. He
found sailors, in great numbers, at every wharf, and there were many
ships taking in lading for British ports, expecting the war would soon
close. The great men of France, England, and the United States, were
then arranging terms of peace.
Mr. Clark continued his tour along the wharves until he almost
despaired of seeing any one who would befriend him. When almost at
his wits’ end, he espied three men putting tobacco into the hold of a
vessel, and to his astonishment and joy he knew them; for many months
before, he and his mess-mate John Scott had showed them what they
thought was a great favor. It is a peculiar trait of sailors to be
grateful, and never forget an act of kindness. But let the interview be
in his own language.
“I made towards them with quick steps, and a gladsome heart. I
found they were gentlemen indeed, though at first they did not seem
to know me. Their disinterested generosity exceeded any thing of
the kind I ever met with before. They clothed me from head to foot,
and gave me refreshment.[10] I then went into the hold, to assist
the second mate to stow away tobacco. I was not long engaged in
that business before I heard the voice of John Scott on deck--my
mess-mate, who I supposed was drowned. I concealed myself as
long as I could, while listening to his conversation; for he was
narrating the tragical story of the death of John Duncan and myself
to the captain.”
We will give John Scott a chance to tell his own tale, as recorded from
the memory of our friend John Clark.
JOHN SCOTT’S STORY.
“The men who proposed the hazardous undertaking to me and my
mess-mate, John Clark, set out from the ship after him, but in a
contrary course from mine. One of them, after swimming about one
hundred yards, concluding he could not hold out to reach the shore,
returned and got on board without being discovered. Another swam
about one hundred yards further, and found he would fail, hailed
the ship and was taken up by the boat. But I and John Duncan held
on our course about half way to the land, when Duncan began to
fail; and the last words I heard him utter, were, ‘Lord, have mercy
on me.’ I got to the island, but entirely naked, except a silk
handkerchief around my waist. I then ran up and down the sand beach
to keep warm till day-light, when I walked on the island and came
to a large brick house, where a lady stood in the door-way and
directed me to the barn, where a British sergeant lay, who gave me
a pair of trowsers, and the lady sent me a fine, ruffled shirt, and
a half-worn beaver hat, and gave me a hearty breakfast.”
Scott got a passage to Charleston on a fishing boat, for which he paid
two dollars; so it seems they weighed his purse by his fine clothes.
While John Scott was narrating the desperate adventure, and how two of
the number got back to the Narcissus, and Duncan was drowned, with sobs
and tears he mentioned his dear mess-mate, John Clark, who, he doubted
not, had perished, or been devoured by a shark, for though an excellent
swimmer, he could never reach land in that direction. “And here,” said
the generous-hearted sailor, “is the purse he knit and gave me, and I
am determined to keep it as long as two meshes will hold together; for
he was the best friend I ever had.”
Clark could listen no longer, but called out JOHN SCOTT, while the
tears like rain drops, gushed from his eyes, as he sprang on deck, and
in a moment the two shipmates, each supposing the other dead, were in
each others’ arms! They now pledged themselves to each other, never
to part, but to live together like brothers. But it is not in man
that walketh to direct his steps.[11] They heard of a Captain Kelly,
who was fitting out a privateer and wanted hands. On application for
berths as privates, they learned he wanted officers, and would take
them as lieutenants. Clark was deficient in practice, and Scott lacked
knowledge in the art of navigation. After some further consideration
they went on board the privateer, and to their satisfaction found
one of their former fellow-prisoners engaged as surgeon. They now
thought they were provided for and should be contented, but before
they were ready to sail, a ship of war came into the harbor, with a
full description of the deserters from the Narcissus, and orders to
search every vessel for them. This so alarmed Clark and his mess-mate
that they were at their wits’ end. At this crisis Clark fell into the
company of an old shipmate by name of John Stewart. They had been
captured in company by the Spanish frigates and were messmates while
in prison in Havana. Stewart advised Clark to take a berth on an armed
sloop, employed as a guard ship, and stationed in Cooper river, a few
miles above Charleston. What became of his friend Scott we learn no
more. They separated and probably never met again on earth.
Mr. Clark now felt his mind relieved from the fear of recapture, but
the respite did not last long. For wages he had nineteen dollars per
month, and a complete asylum from the dangers to which he had been
exposed; plenty of good rations, and very little to do; so he had
two-thirds of his time to improve his mind, which he did not neglect.
But God had wise and gracious designs to accomplish by him, and his
measure of afflictions was not full. His rest was of short duration,
for the sloop was ordered down to Charleston to undergo repairs. There
he was peculiarly exposed to apprehension as a deserter, and knew not
how to escape detection. But the Friend of mankind provided another
asylum, as unexpected as his former deliverances. Connected with the
remnant of the British army that still occupied Charleston, were three
Scotchmen, brothers, who came from his native district. They were
tailors, and employed in altering and fitting the military clothing,
so as to suit each person. With them he became acquainted, and they
concealed him until they were about to be shipped off with the regiment
to New Providence. They told him, in confidence, their parents lived in
North Carolina, that the time of their enlistment had nearly expired,
that they disliked the army, and desired to escape to a country that
was now free. Finally, they entreated Clark to procure a boat, and take
them across Ashley river; and if he wished to accompany them, to obtain
a man to row the boat back to Charleston. This was a providential
opening for Clark to escape, and he engaged his friend Stewart to help
them off.
At eight o’clock at night, Clark, the three tailors, and Stewart as
boatman, were on the water, and hailed by every ship they passed:
“Boat ahoy--what boat is that?” Clark regularly responded in the true
marine accent, “_Guard-boat_;” and thus they escaped unmolested. The
last ship they passed ordered them to stop and come on board, but they
kept on directly towards the margin of a large swamp that lay close by
the river. They intended to turn up the river when on the border of
the swamp, and land on dry and firm ground above. After considering
themselves out of danger, they leisurely plied two oars, while Clark
sat in the stern and steered. Not a word had been spoken by the party,
until one of the men broke silence in a low but emphatic tone, “Lord,
have mercy on us--there’s a boat close on us--put ashore--put ashore!”
Clark instantly put the boat towards the shore, struck the muddy bank,
and all plunged into the swamp but Stewart, who turned down stream.
A palmetto swamp, when covered with water, is a horrible place in
day-light--what must it have been to these wretched wanderers in a
dark night! What the boat was after that alarmed them, or who manned
it, they never learned. It might have been sent from the last ship who
suspected the “guard-boat” was not its real character; or it might have
contained a party of runaways like their own; or some of the native
inhabitants might have made a stealthy visit to town.
Mr. Clark and his friends were frequently up to their knees in mud and
water, and tearing their clothes and skins with the rough palmetto
leaves. The Scotch tailors were excessively frightened, quite panic
struck, expecting every moment to be made prisoners; or perhaps
shot down in the swamp. The grass was higher than their heads, and
they could not see five yards distant. Clark allayed their fears by
assuring them there was no danger from soldiers or marines, for no
person, unless insane, would attempt to follow them in such a swamp. He
urged them to keep together while he led the party. After a terrible
struggle, they got across the swamp about four o’clock in the morning.
Next day they secreted themselves in a thicket and rested till night,
and then traveled on a south-western course by the direction of the
stars. They knew the camp of General Marion was somewhere in the pine
barrens, and steered their course in that direction. Next day they
were so far within the American lines, they ventured to call on the
inhabitants and found them truly generous, and were made welcome and
comfortable. The day following they reached Marion’s camp, reported
themselves as deserters from the British in Charleston, and were
received by the heroic General and his men with true politeness.
Next day the three Scotch tailors applied for passports to North
Carolina, and Clark for one to Georgetown in South Carolina, which
were readily granted. Though the war had practically ended, peace had
not been proclaimed, and every thing was in an unsettled state. Mr.
Clark reached Georgetown, sixty miles north of Charleston, but found
no employment there. The British had evacuated the place, but the
inhabitants were left destitute, and subsisted on rations furnished
by the American army, and every thing was in confusion. Being almost
destitute of clothes and money, Mr. Clark engaged for a short voyage
on a coasting vessel, and came very near being captured by a British
whale-boat. It was only by a desperate effort they escaped. Soon after
returning from that trip, an American row-galley, with thirty oars when
she had a full complement of seamen, came into port. She was armed with
swivels, muskets and cutlasses, and bound on a cruise to Savannah.
As the boat wanted seamen, Clark obtained a berth on board. On their
voyage they lay by one night at Bull’s Island, and in the morning
found two British whale-boats lying near, and all hands fast asleep.
The Americans fired a musket and halloed to arouse them, but as it was
understood the war was over, neither party was disposed for a fight. So
they parted in peace. The American boat staid at Bull’s Island another
night, to see that the British boats did no injury to the inhabitants,
and then went to Savannah.
By this time Mr. Clark had become heartily tired of war on both sides,
and his conscience was reproaching him for engaging in such exploits;
he was continually unhappy, for God was calling him to enter his
service, and like Jonah he was trying to escape. But he felt it to be
his duty to obtain the means of subsistence, and a Sweedish neutral
vessel from St. Thomas, being in Savannah, he shipped on board and
sailed for that island. As the vessel belonged in that port, all hands
were paid off and discharged. The captain, who had taken a fancy to
Clark, offered him the post of mate if he would sail with him, but the
mate had treated Clark with so much friendship, he would not take his
place. The mate, Clark, and several hands, made arrangements to lodge
on shore with a Mr. Campbell. The town of St. Thomas was a neutral
port, and ships from five nations, who had been at war some years, were
frequently in the harbor. To prevent collisions among the sailors of
these different nations, especially when intoxicated, and to preserve
peace and good order, the town authorities required each seaman who
lodged in the town, to obtain a license from the officer who had charge
of that business. Mr. Campbell told Clark and his comrades if they were
in bed by nine o’clock, they need not apply for a license. But they
found their host was mistaken, or else he purposely deceived them.
Though all were in bed and perfectly quiet, they were aroused up by
the police, sent to the fort, and amongst hosts of fleas, and heaps
of filth, were kept until ten o’clock next morning. And then they got
released by paying fines and costs at the rate of about twenty dollars
per head, for a most wretched night’s lodging.
Next day they went to Tortola, a small island that belonged to Great
Britain. Here they shipped on the Peggy, a vessel bound to the port of
New York, and laden with rum and sugar. Clark’s friend was first mate,
and he was made second mate. His friend left the ship at New York, and
our friend John Clark, who was amply qualified, was advanced to the
post of chief mate. While they lay in the harbor of New York, peace was
proclaimed, and Clark, though an officer on board a British merchant
vessel, on the day of public rejoicing could not resist the impulse to
unite with the Americans in their shouts to Liberty. He felt thankful
to God that though he had been forced sorely against his will and all
his notions of the rights of man as a creature of God, to perform
service on board of British war ships, he had never been compelled
to fight that people who were contending for their just rights, and
whose banner was freedom. The truth is, Mr. Clark was innately and by
conviction, a true republican, and an enemy to oppression in every form.
The vessel in which he was now second in command, took in a cargo of
lumber and sailed for Tortola, where they loaded with a cargo of wine
and West India goods, and again sailed for New York. A terrible storm
drove them ashore near Cape Hatteras, off the coast of North Carolina,
where the vessel was lost, but the crew and cargo saved. Cape Hatteras
is the extreme point of a long low island that separates Pamlico Sound
from the Atlantic ocean. From North Carolina he made a voyage to Cape
Francois, now Cape Haytien, in the island of Hayti; from thence to
Charleston in South Carolina, thence to Jamaica and back to Charleston.
Nothing special occurred in these voyages in which Mr. Clark had the
berth of first mate. He now made some preparations for a voyage to
London, but he was a very unhappy man, and had been, at times, since
his escape from the Narcissus. We will hear his own story.
“’Twas now the Spirit of HIM who died on the cross to save sinners,
that alarmed me continually with an assurance that I should never
see the face of God in peace unless I quit the sea-faring business.
I resolved to go into the country and teach a school, where I could
have opportunity to read the Bible, meditate, and attend to the
salvation of my soul. My conviction and repentance increased to
despondency, and I now found no difficulty in refraining from the
use of ardent spirits, which had been growing by long habit, until
it had become truly alarming. Before I met with this distressing
but gracious and salutary change, I was a willing slave to sin and
Satan; but now I was still a slave, but a very unwilling one. I
have believed for many years that there is an important difference
between being awakened and being penitent. A person who is
thoroughly awakened and does not repent, is filled with tormenting
fear, which may be the beginning of wisdom.”[12]