Weighed down under a pressure of despondency, arising partly from
temporary illness, and partly from the greatness of the enterprise I
had undertaken, and whose event was so uncertain, I left Wilbraham
on Thursday morning, June 3d, 1841. A pleasant passage, by the way
of Springfield and Hartford, brought us into New York early the next
morning. By the following Monday, the 7th of June, we were all snugly
stowed in a state-room of the second cabin[31] on board the splendid
packet-ship, _George Washington_, bound for Liverpool.
Before we sailed, however, I was fleeced of seven dollars by the
cook of the ship. As passengers in the _second_ cabin, we had the
privilege of furnishing ourselves with provisions. For the sum just
mentioned, the cook had agreed to do all our cooking at the galley,
insisting, however, on being paid in advance, because, he averred,
several passengers, on former occasions, had obtained his services
and failed to pay him; besides, he wanted to leave all the money he
could with his wife. These arguments were, of course, unanswerable,
and I paid him the sum demanded. Judge, then, of my surprise, when, a
few minutes before we hauled off, the captain engaged another cook;
the first having suddenly made himself among the missing. Should the
reader ever have occasion to voyage, he may profit by the remembrance
of this anecdote.
We then hauled off into the stream; towed by a steamboat, we soon
cleared the harbor of New York. Sandy Hook speedily lay behind us;
the pilot wished us a pleasant voyage, and away we dashed into the
wide Atlantic, buoyed up by the confidence of the hope that a few
weeks would behold us safely landed on the shores of dear old England.
The details of a voyage across the Atlantic have been so often laid
before the public by travellers, that they have now lost most of that
interest which they would possess were they less familiar. I shall
not, therefore, detain the reader with the particulars of my passage,
except to quote the experience of one day from my journal.
Saturday, June 12th. Went on deck early in the morning; found it
very warm. We passed two ships on the same course with ourselves. I
saw a rainbow on our starboard quarter, which reminded me of the old
saying among sailors, “Rainbow in the morning, sailors take warning.”
It was then blowing a stiff breeze from the west. All the sails were
up, studding sails out below and aloft. The wind increased during the
morning, with rain. We soon had heavy thunder, with sharp lightning;
the weather growing squally, we took in our studding sails. Passed
another ship; wind increasing with violent rain.
One o’clock, P. M. Sailors have plenty to do to shorten sail. Furled
top-gallant sails, reefed mizzen topsail, fore topsail, and main
topsail. We are running before the wind like a race-horse, at the
rate of twelve knots an hour.
Two o’clock, P. M. More thunder and lightning, which threatened
vengeance on our poor ship. The lightning is very sharp; we have no
conductor up; it plays all around us, and, as it strikes the water,
it hisses like red-hot iron. Several of the sailors felt a shock
in descending the rigging, especially the first and second mates.
We expected it would strike us every moment, but a kind Providence
protected us. The sea runs very high, and the ship flies about as if
crazy. We have two men at the helm, who can scarcely keep her right;
it seems that she will pitch under every moment.
Eight and one-half o’clock, P. M. Sea still rolling heavily; we have
shipped several heavy seas.
Nine o’clock, P. M. Wind has shifted, and the weather is clearing off.
During the whole of this gale, many of the passengers were much
alarmed, and some of them spent their time in praying and crying to
the Lord. How strange that men will leave their eternal interests to
an hour of danger, and forget them again the moment it passes away!
The first Sabbath of our life at sea, by permission of Captain
Barrows--who, by the way, was a very gentlemanly, kind commander--I
held a religious meeting on the quarter or poop-deck. My audience
contained all the cabin passengers, with most of those in the
steerage, the captain and his mates, together with most of the crew.
I told them I was not a parson, but I would talk to them as well as I
could. After singing and prayer, I spoke from Jonah i. 6; alluding,
among other things, to the late storm, and exhorting them not to
trust to storm religion, but to become the followers of God from
genuine principle. My audience favored me with profound attention.
Whether they were benefitted or not, the great day must determine.
It was in this same ship that the eloquent Robert Newton returned to
England. He favored her crew and passengers, every Sabbath of the
voyage, with one of his excellent and powerful discourses.
The following Sabbaths, owing to the weather and adverse
circumstances, I contented myself with distributing tracts and with
discoursing personally with the passengers and crew.
On the 26th of June, we saw the Irish coast on our weather-beam, and
on the evening of the 27th, we came to an anchor off Liverpool, after
a short passage of twenty days. Here, a steamboat came alongside,
bringing several custom-house officers, who came on board, and
carrying our cabin passengers ashore. The next morning we hauled
into the magnificent docks of this celebrated city of commerce,
where our baggage was landed under the spacious sheds that surround
the wharves. From thence it was conveyed, in small carts, drawn by
donkeys, to the custom-house for inspection. This tedious process
over, the passengers separated, each bound to his respective home;
for, having passed the ordeal of the custom-house, every man is left
at full liberty to go whither he pleases. I and my family proceeded
to a tavern, contrasting, as we went along, the dark, dingy aspect
of Liverpool, everywhere discolored by the fumes of coal-smoke, with
the light, cheerful aspect of our American cities; and giving the
preference to the latter, notwithstanding my English prejudices.
The next morning we all took seats in the railroad cars for Stafford,
some seventy miles distant from Liverpool. After passing through the
tunnel, under the city, of more than a mile in length, we emerged
into a beautiful country, adorned on all sides with antique buildings
and rural scenery. These passed before us like the scenes in a
panorama, and, by ten o’clock, A. M., we reached the stopping-place,
a short distance from Stafford. Here we were literally in danger of
being torn asunder by the eagerness of two hackmen, who, as we were
the only passengers left at the _dépôt_, were especially zealous for
our patronage. A police officer, one of whom is stationed at every
_dépôt_ on the road, speedily relieved us from their importunity.
Stepping up, he asked me which man I would employ. Pointing to one of
them, the other dropped my baggage, and in a few minutes, we were at
the door of my brother-in-law, Mr. William Tills.
Although I had not seen my sister for thirty years, yet, no sooner
did she see me, than, throwing her arms around my neck, she
exclaimed, “Oh, my brother!” I need not add, that our reception was
cordial, and our stay with them characterized by every trait of
genuine hospitality.
The town was alive with the bustle of an election; flags and
streamers were floating over every tavern-sign and public building.
Men, women and children crowded the streets, flushed with the
excitement of party rivalry, while the continual pealing of the bells
added a vivacity and liveliness to the scene, of which an American,
who has never heard the merry ding-dong of a full peal of bells, can
form no adequate conception. By five o’clock that afternoon, the
polls closed, and the ceremony of chairing the successful candidates
took place. First came a band of music, playing lively airs; next
followed the members elect, richly dressed, with ribbons on their
hats, and seated on chairs wreathed with flowers and ribbons, and
surrounded with banners bearing various devices. These chairs were
borne on men’s shoulders, who proceeded through the streets, amid
immense cheering from the crowds who followed, and from the ladies
and citizens, who appeared waving their handkerchiefs from the
windows; the members, meanwhile, bowing, with their hats in their
hands, until they reached the spot where their chaises waited to
convey them to their respective homes. The sight was one of great
interest to a stranger, and I advise every American who visits
England, by all means, to witness an election day if possible.
We remained with my brother-in-law about a week, visiting the
various places and buildings whose antiquity or public character
clothed them with especial interest. The town itself contains about
eleven hundred inhabitants, and is the shire town of the county of
Staffordshire. Its chief business is the manufacture of shoes. Among
its ancient buildings, are the remains of a baronial castle, whose
moss-covered battlements insensibly conduct the meditations of the
beholder back to the days of feudal grandeur and knightly chivalry.
St. Mary’s Church is also a venerable Gothic structure, of solid
masonry, whose walls have withstood the storms and changes of about
ten centuries. They were about to expend £10,000 in repairing the
dilapidations of time. I heard one discourse from the curate, and was
especially delighted with the grandeur and sublimity of the music
from its magnificent organ, as it pealed along the aisles of the
time-worn building, with an effect never witnessed in our smaller and
more modern structures in America.
Here also is the county prison, modelled, in most of its
arrangements, after the state-prisons of America. It contained five
hundred prisoners. A lunatic asylum and a hospital, or infirmary, for
the poor, are found among the products of its benevolence: the former
contained three hundred unfortunate occupants.
The poor-house is a large commodious building, constructed of brick
and stone, surrounded with large airy yards and gardens. It has
also yards or courts within its walls, used as play-grounds for
the children. The order within was excellent; every room looked
remarkably neat and clean; the children were comfortably clothed,
and wore an air of satisfaction and contentment. The whole house
was under the control of a governor and matron who were subject to
the inspection of the board of overseers, chosen by the people.
One excellent rule of the house struck me as being very useful:
it provided for the admission of poor travellers to a supper and
lodging; requiring them, if dirty, to undergo a thorough ablution
and to change their linen. In the morning two or three hours’ work
was exacted as payment, and they were suffered to depart. The house
had its teacher and chaplain; and altogether I thought that a great
improvement had taken place in the poor-laws of the country.
Having been so long away from England, everything peculiarly English
struck me with almost as much force as it would a native American.
Hence, my feelings revolted at the sight of the innumerable beggars
and vagrants, who crowded the streets. Italians, with their organs,
white mice, or monkeys; poor barefooted children, with their baskets
of matches; and, worse than either, houseless families imploring a
crust for their half-naked little ones, with many a tale of sorrow
and woe, were sights which greeted my eye and pained my heart every
day. A sad spectacle indeed, and one which robs the lustre of the
British crown of many a brilliant ray. The true glory of a people is
their internal prosperity, and not the extension of their territory.
The fifth of July renewed the excitement of the day I arrived. It was
the time appointed for the _county_ election. Similar scenes to those
before described took place, accompanied with excessive drunkenness.
Every tavern, and the number seemed endless, was crowded, mostly with
the laboring classes, who were spending their hard-earned pence, for
foaming tankards of English ale, the favorite beverage of John Bull,
and one of the greatest hindrances to the progress of the temperance
cause in that country; though it is hoped that the triumphs of
tee-totalism will ultimately overcome this national love for John
Barleycorn, as beer is humorously called in the old song.
After spending an extremely pleasant week in Stafford, we bade adieu
to my affectionate sister and her husband, and, aided by omnipotent
steam, we soon reached the great manufactory of Britain--Birmingham.
From thence we took stage for Woodstock, subject, however, to the
incessant exactions of the host of waiters, guards and coachmen,
that constantly assail the traveller in England, with a request to be
“remembered” for every little service rendered. The country through
which we rode was delightful; all nature wore her greenest, brightest
garments; the roads were level, and as smooth as the most thorough
Macadamizing could make them. Soon after seven in the evening, the
stage drew up at the Marlborough Arms, the very hotel from whence
I started thirty years since to go to sea. The first object that
arrested my eye, was the revered form of my mother, waiting on the
sidewalk, eager to embrace her much-loved, but long-absent son.
Springing to the ground, I felt myself locked in her fond embrace.
That was a moment of exquisite enjoyment, both to me and to my
mother. Though deeply moved, she maintained a calm dignity of manner.
In a few moments, she was showing the way, with the agility of a
young woman, leading a new-found grand-child in each hand, to her
residence, which was close at hand. Very soon we were all seated
round the well-loaded board, the happiest family party in the world.
Though it afforded me and my family great pleasure to visit scenes
round Woodstock and Bladen, which had been familiar to me in my
boyhood, yet, as the description would only prove tedious to the
reader, it is omitted. A brief account of our visit to Oxford, so
celebrated for its university and colleges, may not be uninteresting.
Oxford contains nineteen colleges and five halls. Of these, we
visited only Christ Church and Lincoln colleges. Christ Church is
the largest college in Oxford. We were forcibly struck with the
magnificence of the octagonal tower, which is over the principal
gateway. It has a dome top, and is ornamented in the Gothic style,
from designs by that renowned architect, Sir Christopher Wren. It
is also remarkable as containing the celebrated bell, known by
the familiar name of “Great Tom,” and weighing 17,000 pounds. It
is 7 feet 1 inch in diameter, 6 feet 9 inches high, 6⅛ inches
in thickness. I got under this massive piece of metal, and found
abundant room to move about; by standing on the clapper I could reach
the top over my head. This is the largest bell in England; though
Russia contains several of a much larger size. I also gratified
myself by a survey of the splendid picture galleries and the
spacious library, the former containing some of the finest specimens
of painting in the country, and the latter a large and valuable
collection of books, manuscripts, prints, coins, &c.
I made inquiries of our attendant for the room in which Charles
Wesley studied while a member of this college; but, although
quite communicative on other subjects, he manifested a peculiar
sensitiveness on this; and I declined pressing the question. After
quitting the college, happening to pass the residence of the Wesleyan
minister, Mr. Rodgers, I called upon him, and related to him how the
porter avoided my questions. He smiled, and said that they regarded
the Wesleys as dissenters, and would therefore do them no honor. Mr.
Rodgers was extremely obliging; he conducted us over his beautiful
chapel, and then bore us company to Lincoln college, where he
pointed out the room in which John Wesley studied when a member of
this institution. He also showed us the other localities of Oxford,
made sacred to me by their association with the person of Wesley’s
grandfather, the preaching of the Wesleys themselves, and the studies
of Dr. Coke, the great missionary hero of the Methodist church.
He then led us into Broad street, to the consecrated spot where
Latimer, Ridley and Cranmer sealed their faith by enduring a martyr’s
death. Three stones mark the spot where their ashes fell; and never
did I feel a holier feeling than that which thrilled my heart, while
I and my family stood on those time-worn stones: the spirits of the
martyrs seemed to hover around us, breathing the same high, religious
determination into our minds that filled their own bold and daring
spirits. That moment amply repaid us for all the toil of our journey
home.
The following Sabbath I attended the chapels of the Wesleyans at
Woodstock and Bladen, and in the evening had the pleasure of saying a
word to my old Bladen associates, in the prayer-meeting.
After receiving the utmost kindness, hospitality and evidences of
friendship from my family and friends, I took leave of them forever.
Many of the neighbors, with my mother, accompanied me to Woodstock.
There I wished her adieu, and when the coach whirled away, she
stood following us with her eyes, the last of the company, until a
projection of the park wall hid us from each other. Who could forbear
a tear in such a moment? I could not, and therefore suffered the big
drops to roll down my cheeks at will. There is a luxury in such grief.
That evening beheld us rolling through Hyde Park into the city of
London, where I tarried a few days with my brother, by whom I was
very cordially entertained. Here also I found several cousins, in
prosperous circumstances whose kindness contributed not a little
to my enjoyment. Having visited St. Paul’s, the Museum, Madame
Tussaud’s magnificent collection of wax figures, and other curious
and remarkable places, I took a trip to Walthamstow, the former
residence of my aunt Turner. This good lady was dead, and almost
forgotten by the people; her twenty-two children were all either dead
or wandering, the neighbors knew not whither. Alas for the mutations
of time!
A walk of two miles farther on, brought us to Wanstead, my
birth-place. Here everything seemed natural, though great changes had
passed over the people since I lived there, a thoughtless child. My
common school teacher and my Sunday school teacher had gone to their
spiritual destiny. My aunt was yet alive. My brother asked her if
she knew me. Peering through her spectacles, and summoning up the
imagery of the past, she at length called to mind her former protégé,
and clasped me to her arms, with evident gratification. It occasions
melancholy feeling to see the ravages of time on the persons and
places one has not visited for years!
After a hasty visit to that noble home for the worn-out sailor at
Greenwich, and a glance at the arsenal at Woolwich, I returned to
London.
We next visited the City Road Chapel, built by the exertions of the
great Wesley himself. The sexton told us that when that wonderful man
held the collection plate, one Sabbath, it was thrice filled with
gold by the enthusiastic generosity of the congregation: a striking
example of his personal influence over his hearers. After examining
the chapel, I walked over the parsonage adjoining, and while standing
in the room where, with his dying lips, the immortal founder of
Methodism exclaimed, “The best of all is, God is with us,” I felt
inspired with his great spirit, and mentally resolved, like him to
laboriously live, that like him I might triumphantly die. From this
sacred chamber I visited the tombs of Wesley, Clarke, Benson, Watson,
Cooper, and other illustrious men of the departed army of faithful
warriors in the cause of Christ; and, as I stood over their ashes, my
heart said with Peter on the mount of transfiguration, “Master, it is
good for me to be here!”
Crossing the road into Bunhill fields, I stood before the tombstones
of the celebrated Dr. Isaac Watts, and the less learned but equally
renowned John Bunyan. Here the wicket gate, the wanderings of the
pilgrim, the land of Beulah, and the river of death passed vividly
before my mind’s eye, until, overcome with a rush of powerful
feeling, I wept and walked away, a better man than when I entered
those solemn resting-places of the glorious dead.
The time allotted for my visit having nearly expired, my mind began
to look towards the country of my adoption, filled with a strong
desire once more to tread its free soil. Strong as is the love of
home, it was not strong enough to induce a preference in my mind for
England. America had become the dearer of the two. Indeed, I saw
so many unpleasant things amidst the grandeur and pageantry of the
rich, that I often felt disgusted. Such hosts of street beggars,
such troops of poverty-stricken children, such a mass of degraded
laborers, such enormous taxation, made me shrink from bearing any
part of so great a burden, and desire to link my future destiny
with the rising fortunes of America. How the laborer of England
lives, with such low wages, and such high prices for the staple
commodities of life, is above my comprehension. Meat was from twelve
to twenty-four cents per pound; tea from one to two dollars; coffee
from twenty-five to forty cents, and other things in proportion.
To this add the intemperate habits of the poor, and how they live
becomes a problem I know not how to solve. Yet, with all this poverty
and woe, taxation is laid upon the public with merciless severity,
to furnish means to maintain the splendor and fatten the minions of
royalty. First, they have to pay the annual interest of eight hundred
million pounds, then come the enormous salaries of the monarch and
the satellites of the throne. The queen, for her private purse, has
£150,000; the queen dowager, £100,000; Prince Albert, £30,000; the
Lord High Chancellor, £20,000; the Bishops, an average of £20,000
each. Besides these, follow sinecures and pensions innumerable,
until the resources of the nation are preyed on by the throne,
with the unsatisfied appetite of the grave--taking all, and still
crying, “give, give!” I felt happy, when beholding these things,
that Providence had, after many trials in early life, cast my lot in
America.
On the 25th of August, we all sailed from London, in the cabin of
a fine ship, commanded by Captain Eldridge, bound for Boston. The
particulars of our stormy and tedious voyage would neither gratify
nor amuse the reader, and they are therefore omitted. Suffice it to
say, that the Atlantic passage could scarcely be more unpleasant
than it was to us; but, by the care of divine Providence, after
being seventy-five days at sea, exposed to every variety of wind
and weather, deprived of religious advantages, and surrounded only
by the ungodly, we safely landed, and found comfortable quarters
at the United States Hotel, in Boston. From thence we proceeded to
Worcester, and then to Wilbraham, where we were hailed with joyful
congratulations by our neighbors, who had begun to mourn us as among
the lost at sea. Most gratefully did we all unite with the minister,
the following Sabbath, in a thank-offering to Almighty God, for his
goodness in preserving us from the dangers of the stormy sea.
Thus, courteous reader, I have conducted thee through the mazes of
my changeful life. Should the facts detailed in these pages lead
thee to feel more interest hereafter in the elevation of the sailor,
my labors will not have been in vain; and should the recital of my
Christian experience induce thee to embrace the same Saviour, who has
become my redemption and sacrifice, I shall joyfully hail thee, when
we meet together in the port of eternity.
To my brothers of the sea, let me add one word. Yours is a life of
danger, of toil, of suffering. Few men care for your souls; but Jesus
regards you. He watches you in all your wanderings; he woos you to
be his! Will you not be persuaded, by a fellow-sailor, to heed his
voice. O sailor, “TURN, TURN, FOR WHY WILL YE DIE!” Go! rest in His
bosom, who says to you, “Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy
laden, and I will give you rest.”
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Near this bridge is a spring, called Rosamond’s Well, where Henry
II. is said to have contrived a labyrinth, by which his guilty fair
one communicated with the castle.
[2] This form of “step-father” seems not to have been unusual in
England 1800-50. _Cf._ Sam Weller’s addressing his father’s second
wife as “mother-in-law.”
[3] Reuben James. See his life by C. T. Brady.
[4] To prevent the recovery of these men by their consul, the
press-gang usually went ashore on the night previous to our going to
sea; so that before they were missed they were beyond his protection.
Sometimes they were cleared on our return to port.
[5] The crew of this vessel mutinied, killed their officers, and ran
the ship into a Spanish port, where she fell into the hands of the
Spaniards, then at war with England. Large rewards were offered for
these mutineers; many were taken, and all who were taken suffered the
penalty of death (1797).
[6] Narrative of the Life and Sufferings of William B. Lighton (an
Englishman), a private in the 60th Regiment--the Rifles.--Troy, N.
Y., 1846. He enlisted at 16, in 1820.
[7] James Holmes, boatswain.
[8] James, in his History of the British Navy, gives this name as
Thomas James Nankivee.
[9] Dennis Colwell.
[10] The colors of the _Macedonian_ are preserved at the Naval
Institute, Annapolis, Md. A number of her cannon are placed on the
green near the Commandant’s quarters at the Brooklyn Navy Yard; and
when she was broken up, many of her timbers were taken to City Island
(now part of New York City), and used as the frame of a hotel still
(1909) standing there.
[11] The official report, from James’ _History of the British Navy_,
of the _Macedonian’s_ casualties was:
David Hope, First Lieutenant, wounded, leg and head;
John Bulford, Third Lieutenant, wounded;
Henry Roebuck, Master’s Mate, wounded;
George Greenway, Midshipman, wounded;
Francis Baker, “first-class volunteer,” wounded.
Of the crew, 36 killed and 68 wounded, of whom two seamen died of
wounds, and two boys had each one leg amputated. Nine Marines also
were wounded.
Aboard the _United States_:
Second Lieutenant John M. Funck, mortally wounded; one seaman
mortally wounded; five seamen badly wounded.
(Unless the five all died, Captain Carden’s statement in his
official despatch home, “I saw a lieutenant and six seamen thrown
overboard,” was unfounded.)
[12] John B. Nicholson.
[13] The word “thus” should undoubtedly be placed before “the,” so
as to make the line read: “and thus the flag of a frigate,” etc.
The _Guerrière_ was the first frigate captured, the _Frolic_ (taken
October 18) being a brig.--(ED.)
[14] The first lieutenant of the _United States_, William H. Allen,
took the _Macedonian_ to port.
The list of the _United States’_ officers and their subsequent
records follows:
Captain Stephen Decatur, who was killed by Captain Barron in the
historic duel, 1820.
Lieutenant John B. Nicholson, who appears afterwards in this
narrative as commander of the _Siren_, 1815, but whose name does
not thus appear on the navy records. He was captain of the _United
States_ in 1832, and died in 1846.
This list has been compiled from various sources, but the Navy
Department records show an additional midshipman, John J. McCaw,
who resigned Feb. 23, 1818.
Lieutenant William H. Allen, who became Commander of the _Argus_ in
1813, and was mortally wounded in the action with the _Pelican_ in
the British Channel, August 14, 1813, and is buried at Plymouth,
England.
Lieutenant John M. Funck, mortally wounded, as before noted.
Purser John B. Timberlake. Mr. Timberlake’s wife, who was known
in Washington as “Peggy” O’Neil, married after his death John
H. Eaton, Secretary of War, 1829-1831, and became the cause of
the celebrated “ladies’ quarrel,” as Calhoun termed it, which
terminated in the disruption of Jackson’s Cabinet in 1831.
Midshipmen--
Joseph Cassin, Jr., who died a Lieutenant in 1826.
Philip F. Voorhees, who died a Captain in 1862.
John P. Zantzinger, who appears on the Navy List as “dropped”
in 1855, but who was purser of the _Hornet_ in 1815, when she
narrowly escaped capture by the British 74 _Cornwallis_. In that
memorable stern-chase all the guns but one, the cables, boats
and nearly everything else movable, were thrown overboard to
lighten the vessel. From the Congressional records we find that in
1850--_thirty-five_ years after--Congress passed an act allowing
Mr. Zantzinger payment for what he had been obliged to sacrifice
under these circumstances, when even the knives and forks were
thrown overboard.
Richard Delphy, who was killed in the _Argus_-_Pelican_ encounter,
August 14, 1813, and is buried at Plymouth, England.
Dugomier Taylor, who died at sea, as a Lieutenant, October 5, 1819.
Richard S. Heath, who became Lieutenant, and was killed June 2,
1817, in a duel with Midshipman J. L. Hopkins, at New York.
Edward F. Howell, who was killed in the action between the
_President_ and the _Endymion_, January 15, 1815.
H. Z. W. Harrington (Henry W., on navy records), resigned April 12,
1813.
William Jameson, who died a Commodore April 6, 1873, his record
surpassing even that of Sloat. He was doubtless the last survivor
of the famous encounter of sixty-one years before.
Archibald Hamilton, who became a Lieutenant and was killed in the
action between the _President_ and the _Endymion_, January 15,
1815. He was son of Paul Hamilton, then Secretary of the Navy.
Lewis Hinchman (or Henchman). }
Benjamin S. Williams, } of whom no record is found.
John N. Carr, }
John Stansbury, who was killed in Macdonough’s victory on Lake
Champlain, September 11, 1814.
George C. Read, who died a Rear-Admiral in 1862.
Walter Wooster, drowned June 1, 1813. (The Navy Department gives
his name as “Winter.”)
John D. Sloat, who died a Rear-Admiral in 1867, having the
wonderful record of forty-four years’ active service, having
entered the navy as a midshipman in 1800--served one year
until discharged by the peace-establishment. He re-entered as
sailing-master 1812. In 1847 he secured possession of California
just in time to forestall the British designs on the Pacific Coast,
and was on the active list until 1855; retired 1861, but promoted
until 1866--thus being on the navy list for fifty-seven years.
Surgeon Samuel R. Trevett, Jr. (died 1822), when surgeon on the
sloop-of-war _Peacock_.
Surgeon’s Mate Samuel Vernon, who died February 5, 1814.
Lieutenant of Marines William Anderson, who died a brevet
Lieutenant-Colonel, in 1830.
Second Lieutenant of Marines James L. Edwards, who resigned in 1813.
The complement of the two vessels, as given by James, was:
_Macedonian_, 262 men and 35 boys.
_United States_, 477 men and 1 boy.
[15] This was the celebrated Dr. Nathan Strong (1748-1816), pastor of
the First Congregational Church.
[16] This was Captain Grey, the adjutant-general, son of General
Sir Charles Grey, of the Paoli massacre, September, 1777. Lossing
(_Field-Book War of 1812_) says a drummer-boy cried, “Perhaps not
yet,” fired, and mortally wounded him.
[17] Leech is not to be blamed for his belief in the burning of
witches in New England--in 1909 a New York orator repeated the same
hoary blunder.--(ED.)
[18] George Parker, formerly first lieutenant of the _Constitution_.
[19] The _Grand Turk_ was a noted privateer, commanded at that time
by either Captain Breed or Captain Green, and owned by the famous
Salem merchant, William Gray.
[20] James B. Nicholson, the same who was on the _United States_.
[21] The Washingtonian was a temperance society of the day.
[22] Captain Augustus Bruce (James’ _Hist. British Navy_).
[23] The Barbary sheep entirely resembles the tame kind, excepting in
the tail, which is very much loaded with fat, is often more than a
foot broad, and weighs upwards of twenty pounds. Among this kind of
broad-tailed sheep, there are some whose tails are so long and heavy,
that the shepherds are obliged to fasten a small board with wheels,
to support them as they walk along. This tail, which is a substance
between marrow and fat, is considered a great delicacy.--_See System
of Natural History. Boston: Carter, Hendee & Co., 1834._
[24] Twenty-four doublegees made a rix dollar.
[25] An instance of maternal imprudence was said to have occurred
in this port on board another ship. A poor woman went on board and
inquired for her son, who had run from the British service, and was
then among the captive crew of an American prize. They told her there
was no one of that name among the crew. “He is among the Yankees,”
said she. Hearing this, the prisoners were called up, and the poor,
affectionate, but ill-judging mother, singled out her son, and
embracing him, said, “I have brought you a clean shirt!”
The lieutenant, who stood by them, stepped up, remarking to the
thunder-stricken man, “It’s a clean shirt you want, is it? I will
give you a clean handkerchief”--meaning that he would be hung. The
unhappy youth was accordingly ironed, in presence of the astounded
mother, who now beheld herself the unintentional murderess of her
son. A court-martial was held, and the brutal prediction of the
lieutenant verified.
[26] We were captured July 12, 1814; it was now August, 1815.
[27] If the reader wishes to know why seamen wear their hats on the
back of their heads, let him put his hat on as usual and ascend a
ladder. He will find himself unable to look up until he places it
on the _back of his head_ as a sailor does. Sailors wear their hats
thus, because they could not otherwise ascend the rigging of a ship.
[28] Edward T. Taylor (1793-1871). From 1800 to 1817 he was a sailor.
In 1819 he became a Methodist clergyman. In 1827 he served as
chaplain on the _Macedonian_, which took supplies to the famishing
Irish people. He was a pastor in Boston during the rest of his life,
was known as “Father Taylor,” and was a most successful worker,
particularly among seamen.--(ED.)
[29] Rev. Joel Hawes (1789-1867), for forty-six years pastor of the
First Congregational Church.
[30] Rev. Wilbur Fisk (1792-1839), one of the greatest Methodists
America has known.
[31] It will be _á propos_ to here quote a letter from Thoreau to his
sister Sophia, describing Emerson’s quarters on board the packet-ship
_Washington Irving_, on which he sailed from Boston in 1847: “I went
to Boston to see Mr. E. off. His stateroom was like a carpeted dark
closet, about six feet square, with a large key-hole for a window.
The window was about as big as a saucer, and the glass two inches
thick--not to mention another skylight overhead in the deck, of the
size of an oblong doughnut and about as opaque; of course it would be
in vain to look up if any promenader had his foot upon it. Such will
be his quarters for two or three weeks,” etc.
Such were _first-class_ accommodations six years after Leech made
his voyage, with a certainty of being at least twenty days cooped up
thus, and possibly _seventy-five_, as we shall see actually occurred
on his return. [ED].
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained: for example,
top-sail, topsail; boot-making, bootmaking; fire-side, fireside;
phrensied; disparted; yclept; wofully; apostacy; whisky.
Pg 15: ‘special attenton to’ replaced by ‘special attention to’.
Pg 31: ‘hard and succesfully’ replaced by ‘hard and successfully’.
Pg 32: ‘whle standing on’ replaced by ‘while standing on’.
Pg 33: ‘I dd not learn’ replaced by ‘I did not learn’.
Pg 48: ‘unceremonously thrown’ replaced by ‘unceremoniously thrown’.
Pg 51: ‘being rapdly’ replaced by ‘being rapidly’.
Pg 98: ‘We eat together’ replaced by ‘We ate together’.
Pg 125: ‘and boarding-spikes’ replaced by ‘and boarding-pikes’.
Pg 133: ‘degredation, if ever’ replaced by ‘degradation, if ever’.
Pg 140: ‘bed-clothes, makng’ replaced by ‘bed-clothes, making’.
Pg 147: ‘for our ecsape’ replaced by ‘for our escape’.
Pg 147: ‘a mssionary, was’ replaced by ‘a missionary, was’.
Pg 166: ‘is justy described’ replaced by ‘is justly described’.
Pg 176: ‘were prastised on’ replaced by ‘were practised on’.
Pg 185: ‘off in trumph’ replaced by ‘off in triumph’.
Pg 197: ‘successful prosecuton of’ replaced by
‘successful prosecution of’.
Pg 204: ‘drawn by donkies’ replaced by ‘drawn by donkeys’.
Pg 209: ‘avoided my questons’ replaced by ‘avoided my questions’.
Pg 213: ‘thence we proceded’ replaced by ‘thence we proceeded’.
Footnote 5: ‘and run the ship’ replaced by ‘and ran the ship’.