Aged thirty-three, admitted 21st June 1822. This man had been a rustic
labourer. When admitted to this hospital he was in a very weakly
state. His countenance and complexion were scarcely of human aspect,
having more the resemblance of a baboon, without the lively grimace of
that animal.
His mind was deeply impressed with the notion that he was here on
board a convict-ship, on his voyage to Botany Bay; that the weather
was extremely stormy and dangerous; and he expected the vessel every
moment to be upset, wrecked, or sunk; and nothing could dissuade him
from this opinion. His conversation every morning was about the rocking
and heaving of the vessel during the preceding night. “My eyes!” he
would exclaim, “how she did roll about, pitch, and heave last night! I
thought it was all over with us.” One morning his keeper found him with
his legs and body under his bed, and holding on with both hands by the
side of the bedstead. On asking him what he was about; he answered, “my
dear soul! I am glad you are come. I have been holding on all night,
and am almost gone, I expected that I must have let go, and have gone
smack overboard.”
When the keeper shewed him his error, the poor fellow said: “Lord have
mercy on me! Why it is a bed!” and heaving a deep sigh, continued, “I
thought I was hanging by the ship’s side all night. I did not know
till now that I was in the cabin all the while!”
He was asthmatic, had very ill health, and was discharged sick and
weakly, July 18th 1822.