"Well, I am rich," I exclaimed; "like that old fellow Croesus I once
read of at school. Thank you, sir--thank you. Hurrah, hurrah!" I
burst out into a loud fit of laughter.
At first Mr Martin smiled at my joy, but he soon began to look grave,
as did the agent, for they perceived that I was over-excited--that, in
truth, the admiral's good wine and my unexpected good fortune, acting on
a frame shattered by sickness, had upset me, and they seemed to think
that there was every probability of a return of my fever.
"I am very glad to hear that you have got this little sum. It will help
to supply you with an outfit," observed Mr Martin, wishing to calm me
down a little.
"Enough for an outfit!--enough to fit out a prince or found a kingdom,"
I exclaimed vehemently. "Ha, ha, ha!"
"Well, never mind that just now," said my kind friend; "just get into my
barouche, and come along to my house in the meantime. To-morrow we will
talk about these matters."
I made no resistance, and, getting into his carriage, we soon reached
his cool and comfortable mansion in the neighbourhood of Kingston. I
was immediately put to bed, and off I went into a sleep so sound that an
earthquake or an hurricane would scarcely have awoke me.
It was late in the day when I at length opened my eyes, feeling quite a
new being. A thorough sound sleep, with my mind at ease as to my
prospects, was all I required to restore me to health. This I had not
got since I left Ou Trou. As soon as I had dressed and breakfasted I
set off for Port Royal harbour, and joined my ship, as happy a fellow, I
may truly say, as ever crossed salt water. I was most kindly received
by my new shipmates, who seemed to vie with each other in trying to make
amends to me for the sufferings I had undergone. I had very little time
to be idle, or to amuse myself on shore. That I suspect was the better
for me. The ship was all ready for sea, and on the 18th of the month,
just four days after I got back to Jamaica, we sailed on a cruise, in
company with his Majesty's frigate Hinchinbrook, commanded by Captain
Parker, the admiral's son, off Cape Saint Antonio. I found that the
Camel, which had been sent to accompany a fleet through the gulf, had on
her return, when off Cape Saint Antonio, seen a considerable number of
Saint Domingo ships. One she had taken which was very valuable, but,
being a slow sailer, the others had escaped her. Her captain informed
Sir Peter that he was certain if a couple of ships would sail
immediately the fortunes of all on board would be made. In consequence
of this the admiral despatched the Hinchinbrook and my ship the
Porcupine, directing us not to wait to fill up with provisions or water,
but to proceed at once to the locality where these rich prizes were to
be found.
On the 25th we arrived off our station. The next day a stranger was
reported in sight--a schooner. We made all sail in chase. How
delightful it was to feel myself once more on board ship, bowling away
with a fine breeze through the free sparkling waters, with England's
time-honoured flag above my head. I could scarcely refrain from
shouting with pleasure, and I do not think that anybody would have been
much astonished had I done so, for I should have replied, "Let me tell
you, old fellows, if any of you had been shut up in a dull village in an
abominable climate, half-starved, ill-treated and insulted, hearing
constantly that old England was conquered, that her fleets were
destroyed, and her people led into captivity, with your companions and
friends dying about you, and, when dead, buried like dogs, you would
shout when you found yourselves at liberty, and able once more to do
battle with the enemies of your country."
Whether the schooner was American or French we could not at first
determine, but that she was an enemy there could be no doubt. The
prospect of prize-money is always pleasant, though when obtained, in too
many cases, it is spent in folly and extravagance. All hands were in
high spirits; a good beginning to a successful cruise we thought it
would prove. Cape Antonio bore at the time south-east. We had almost
got the chase within range of our guns, when a grating sound was heard,
and a shock was felt which sent most of the ship's company toppling down
on their noses; the water surged up alongside, and we found that we were
on shore. Here might be a speedy conclusion to all our hopes of
prize-money--not that we cared for the paltry sum the vessel in sight
might have given us, but for what we might obtain by our cruise
altogether. Not a moment was lost in clewing-up everything, lowering
boats, and in laying out anchors; but, notwithstanding, we stuck hard
and fast. British seamen, however, do not give way to despair in a
hurry. Fresh anchors and warps were laid out. We sounded round the
ship to see where most water was to be found. Then we worked away with
our purchases. We had no wish to start our water or to heave our guns
and provisions overboard till the last extremity. Fortunately the wind
fell. We hove away with a will. "Hurrah, hurrah?" was the cry fore and
aft; "she moves, she moves!" Our success encouraged us. The
Hinchinbrook, before we got on shore, was out of sight; so was the chase
by this time. At length our efforts were rewarded with success, and
once more we had deep water under our keel. What was satisfactory,
also, we had suffered little or no damage.
For the next fortnight we were employed chiefly in chasing and speaking
a vast number of Spanish merchantmen bound to the Havannah, and as we
little suspected all the time that war had been declared between England
and Spain, we allowed them to proceed. This was provoking enough, for,
they would have proved very rich prizes. We spoke also his Majesty's
ships Winchelsea, Camel, Lynne, and Druid, with a convoy from England
for Jamaica, and on the 15th of June, the period of our cruise being up,
and our provisions, moreover, growing short, we left our station and
made sail for Port Royal.
On the 1st of July, judging by our reckoning that we were within a few
leagues of Jamaica, our surprise was very considerable when we struck
soundings on the Misteriosa bank, about a hundred leagues to the
westward of where we supposed ourselves to be. Captain Packenham sent
forthwith for the purser, and in consequence of the report he gave we
were immediately put on half allowance, having, even at that rate,
provisions to last us only for fourteen days. There we were, dead to
leeward, while light winds and frequent calms occasioned our progress to
be very slow. We kept at it, however, making every inch of ground we
could. Still by the 12th, being at a considerable distance from land,
we were of necessity put on yet further reduced allowance of a biscuit a
day, an ounce of pork and half a pint of water. I, who just then
required sustenance more than most of my companions, felt the want of
substantial food very much. The Hinchinbrook, with which we were still
in company, was also short of provisions, and could ill spare any to
supply our wants. We now both of us felt the inconvenience of having
sailed in so great a hurry. It had been calculated that we should take
a week to get to our station; that we should cruise there a couple of
weeks, and take a week to return. Things were now growing extremely
serious, though the men bore their want of food very well, but we could
not help seeing clearly that the time might shortly come when we should
really have nothing whatever on board. On the 15th, believing that we
could not possibly reach a port, we stood to the northward and kept in
the latitude of Jamaica, hoping thus to fall in with a fleet of
merchantmen under convoy of some ships of war, which we knew were to
sail from Jamaica about that time. We had look-outs stationed at each
mast-head, eagerly on the watch for any strange sail, friend or foe,
from which we might have obtained relief. We should certainly have
attacked any foe, even twice our force, for the sake of obtaining food
from them. I believe that, so desperately we should have fought, we
should have conquered. Men are like wild beasts when hungry. There is
nothing they will not dare and do. Still we were doomed to
disappointment. On the 30th of July, all our bread and water being
expended, we were reduced to an allowance of one ounce of pork for each
man daily. It did just to keep body and soul together. We were
compelled to send each day on board the Hinchinbrook for a small cask of
water, which was all they could spare us. Even of this small allowance
we felt that we might any day be deprived, should we, as was very
probable, be separated from our consort by a gale of wind. On the 2nd
of August the faces of the purser and his clerks were longer than usual.
The ounce of pork was diminished to half an ounce, and then some of the
messmen found that they were getting only a quarter of an ounce, I
guessed, by the countenances of the men as they went forward, but they
said nothing. They very well knew that the present state of things
could not be helped. Very soon the purser came aft to the captain who
was on the quarter-deck--
"Sir, I have to report that there is not a pint of water or an ounce of
bread or biscuit, or anything eatable on board," was his very
unsatisfactory announcement.
The captain stood as cool and unmoved as if he was hearing an account of
any ordinary occurrence.
"You have some tallow candles and oil, and some raisins, and a few other
little things of that sort?" he remarked.
The purser said there was a small supply on board.
"Very well, they will serve to keep all hands alive for a day or two,
and by that time we may hope to fall in with assistance," he answered.
He then called us all round him, and officially announced what the
purser had told him.
"I'll let the people know the state of things," he added, and directed
that they should be summoned aft.
Their pale, thin faces, and the slow way in which many of them walked,
showed that the want of sufficient food was already telling on their
strength.
"My lads," said Captain Packenham, "we put to sea in a hurry, and we
expected to be back before our provisions were expended, but we are
mistaken. We are short of food, but many ships have been in a worse
case. We have done our best to get back to Jamaica, and as we cannot
get there, I hope we may fall in with some vessels or other from which
we may get a supply of provisions, either friends to give them to us, or
enemies from which we may take them, and, hungry as we are, I would not
fear to lay you alongside an enemy's ship, for I am very certain you
would take care to provide yourselves with a good supper at the end of
the fight."
The crew warmly cheered this speech, though the voices of many of the
poor fellows sounded hollow and faint. They knew, however, that, badly
off as they might be, not an officer would touch a mouthful of food
while they were without it. How eagerly we all looked out for a sail
which might bring us relief! There was no necessity to hail the
mast-heads to ascertain that the men stationed there were doing their
duty. I certainly did not wish myself back at Ou Trou, but I never
suffered such pangs of hunger there as I was now doing. We had two or
three prophets of disaster on board, and they were continually citing
instances where the whole crew of a ship had died from starvation, or
perhaps where only one or two had survived to tell the tale of their
misfortunes. Water was our greatest want. The wind was light, almost a
calm, and the sun shone forth on the calm shining sea with intense fury,
the very pitch in the teams of our decks bubbled up, and if we had a
beef steak we might have cooked it on the capstan-head. We put on our
sword-belts, and drew them tighter and tighter round our waists. The
men used their handkerchiefs for the same object. But all would not do.
Tight as we drew them we could not stop the gnawing pangs which
attacked us. Those on watch had, of course, to keep the deck. The rest
of the officers lay down in their cabins, but I could not remain in
mine. I was soon again out of it, and climbing up aloft eagerly to scan
the horizon, in the hopes of finding a sail in sight. In vain I looked
round; not a speck was to be seen above the horizon. At length the sun
went down, and darkness came on, and there the ship lay becalmed, with
her crew of starving men. Anxiously all that night passed away--the
calm continued. We had indeed practical experience of how hard hunger
and thirst is to bear. We could see the Hinchinbrook at a little
distance from us, rolling her polished sides in the water, over which
the moonbeams were now playing. She was now in as bad a condition as we
were, and could no longer render us any assistance. The sun again rose,
and then the two ships lay with their sails idly flapping against the
masts. A hurricane would at that time have been welcomed--anything to
move us on. There was no piping to breakfast that day. The boatswain
put his whistle to his mouth, but instantly let it fall again. The men,
however, were mustered at divisions, and then they were set on to do all
sorts of work, to keep their minds employed if possible, although their
jaws were to be idle. At dinner-time as much of the oil and tallow
candles as could be spared was served out, but some of the men could not
touch the greasy compound, even though about a thimbleful of rum was
offered at the same time to wash it down.
"Stay a bit," observed the surgeon, "in two or three days they will take
it eagerly enough."
It was not from hunger we suffered so much as from thirst. That was
terrible. Hour after hour passed by. No relief appeared. I began
almost to wish that I had laid my head down alongside my poor friend and
old shipmate, Delisle, in the desolate savannah near Ou Trou. The
thought was wrong--rank ingratitude to the merciful providence which had
preserved me--but it was human, I fear. How admirably our gallant
fellows behaved! Scarcely a murmur or a grumble was heard. Again the
sun went down. That night was one of great suffering among many of the
crew. Some tried to keep up their own spirits and those of their
messmates by singing and cutting jokes and telling stories. Still it
would not do. They soon broke down. The surgeons kept going about,
administering stimulants to those who appeared sinking, but their store
of medicine was soon exhausted, and they could do no more. Day came
again, but no relief was brought us. I with others climbed aloft. Not
a sail was in sight. In vain--in vain we scanned the horizon, the calm
continued, and the ships floated idly on the smooth, sullen, treacherous
water. Yet who that could by any possibility have seen those two fine,
well-appointed men-of-war would have supposed that so much suffering,
alarm, and dread existed on board them! Death had not yet visited us,
but we could not tell when he would commence his work of destruction.
Any moment he might begin to strike, and we knew that he would not cease
till he had made an end of all. The men were piped to divisions, but
scarcely an attempt was made to find employment for them. They lay
listlessly along the decks, some could scarcely walk. The voices of the
officers, as they issued their orders, sounded hollow and strange. I
felt sure that many would not last out another day. The hours still
drew slowly on, without bringing us any relief. Captain Packenham had
retired to his cabin to conceal the pain he was suffering. The first
lieutenant and I still kept the deck, but I began to feel that I must
soon go below, or I should fall where I stood. The greater part of the
crew were completely prostrate. Some few of the stronger men continued
every now and then to go aloft to take a look-out round the horizon, to
learn if any sail were in sight. I turned to my brother-officer--
"What think you, Staunton, of our prospects?" said I.
"The Jamaica fleet ought to be here by this time," he answered.
"But if they have been delayed, or have already passed or steered
another course, what are we to do?" I urged.
"Starve to death," he answered, in a hollow voice. "A day--a few
hours--will settle the point."
We neither of us spoke again for long after that. The ship's head kept
going round and round the compass. Some of the people were too weak
even to endeavour to crawl into the shade. We supported ourselves as
long as we could against the bulwarks, but at length had to sit down on
a gun-carriage, our knees refusing any longer to hold us up. The day
was drawing on. I felt with Staunton that another day would settle the
question of life or death for most of us. One by one the men had come
down from aloft, giving up all hope of seeing a sail approaching to our
relief. Weak as they were, we could not insist on any of the poor
fellows remaining up there, except as volunteers.
I was thinking over all I had gone through at different parts of my
life, and how often I had been mercifully preserved. "I'll not give in
even now," I said to myself. "I'll go aloft, and have another
look-out." Suddenly I felt my strength returning. I got up, and,
slinging my glass over my shoulder, went up the fore rigging. It
appeared to me that I was as strong and active as ever. I gained the
foretop mast-head. I unslung my glass and looked out. There, right
away to the westward, was a long, dark line in the horizon, which could
be caused I knew alone by a fresh breeze, and even as I looked and
hailed the welcome sign of deliverance, several dots appeared above it,
the loftier sails, as I well knew, of approaching ships. I rubbed my
eyes. Again I looked to assure myself of the reality of what I fancied
I saw, and that I might not be deceived by some phantom of the brain.
No, I was certain that I was right; there were the approaching sails.
With a strong breeze they came on quickly towards us.
"Several sail in sight!" I shouted out, and my voice was scarcely
weaker than usual. I waved my hand and pointed in the direction I saw
them.
The effect was electrical. Men who seemed before almost at their last
gasp rose to their feet. The officers came hurrying on deck. Captain
Packenham himself appeared. Many mounted the rigging and joined me
aloft to assure themselves that I was not deceived. There could be no
doubt about the matter. All saw the approaching ships. Royals,
topgallant sails, topsails appeared one after the other above the
horizon. They might be the ships of the expected Jamaica fleet, or they
might be enemies. By that time the sea was swarming with them. In that
case we should have to fight for what we wanted.
"No matter," was the cry of all on board, "we are ready and able as ever
to meet a foe."
The prospect of relief roused everyone, and though our cheeks were thin
and our strength was feeble, our spirits rose and we felt that we could
fight as well as ever. Anxiously we watched the approaching strangers.
As we rose their courses out of the water we felt pretty certain from
their appearance that some of them were men-of-war. At length we made
out their colours. They were English. They might, however, have been
hoisted to deceive us. Not to be taken by surprise we went to quarters.
We now clearly ascertained that the two headmost ships were frigates
and the rest merchantmen. They soon showed the private signals. They
were the Aeolus and Prudente frigates with the long-expected convoy for
England. We hoisted signals of distress, and, lowering our boats, they
were alongside them by the time they hove-to near us.
The different way in which we were treated by the officers of the two
frigates was very remarkable. Captain Waldegrave of the Prudente aided
us in the most kind and compassionate way, and he was warmly seconded by
two of his lieutenants, Campbell and Ferris, who exerted themselves to
the utmost to bring provisions on board without an instant's delay.
They sent us their own dinners which had just been dressed, and also all
the cooked meat on board, so that we were able at once to satisfy the
cravings of hunger. They despatched also all the delicacies they could
think of, likely to be of use to us from their own private stores. The
officers of the other frigate, on the contrary, treated our sufferings
with heartless indifference, and seemed much vexed at having to give up
some of their provisions towards supplying our wants, and at the delay
which we caused them.
The masters of the merchantmen seemed to vie with each other which
should afford us most voluntary assistance, and among others we were
especially indebted to Captain Louis of the Augustus Caesar, a large
London ship, who sent us wine, tea, sugar, sheep, fowls--indeed,
everything we could possibly require. Altogether from them and the
men-of-war we were supplied with provisions for three weeks. Delightful
indeed was the change from actual starvation to the abundance we now
enjoyed. With right good-will did we cheer the fleet which had so amply
relieved our distress as we parted from them and made sail once more for
Jamaica.
The following day, the 6th of August, we saw the Island of the Grand
Caymayne. Here we anchored for a few hours and were then ordered by
Captain Parker to proceed direct for Jamaica with despatches for his
father. One of the ship's company was destined never to reach it. The
captain of the maintop, a fine active fellow, fell from aloft, and,
striking part of the rigging, bounded overboard. The ship was instantly
hove-to, a boat was lowered and pulled towards the spot where he fell.
Some thought they saw his head floating above the waves. In vain we
looked about for him. Either stunned by his fall he sank at once, or a
shark, one of those ravenous monsters of the deep, had made him his
prey. Poor John Nettlethorp! There were mourning hearts in your quiet
home in Devonshire when the ship returned and your fate was told those
who had long-expected to see you once again.
On the 19th we reached Port Royal. We found everybody in the greatest
excitement making preparations to receive Count D'Estaign, who, with a
powerful fleet and army, was hourly expected to make an attack on the
island. None of England's colonies can boast of more loyal and devoted
inhabitants than does Jamaica, as they have given abundant proof of on
numberless occasions.
"Yes, gentlemen of England, who stay at home at ease,
Ah! little do you think upon the dangers of the seas."
Little also, say I, do you dream of all the racketing and knocking about
your naval defenders have to go through in time of war that you may stay
at home at ease!
My journal will give you some idea of what seamen have to endure. In
harbour one day, at sea for weeks, then to encounter storms and
ship-wrecks, battles and wounds, famine and sickness, extremes of heat
and cold, pain and suffering, defeat sometimes and imprisonment, with
the many ills which make the heart sick, and when at length we return
into port, instead of obtaining rest we have to refit ship, take in
stores and provisions, and seldom enjoy a moment of leisure till we are
once more ready for sea. I was very far, even in the days of which I
speak, of complaining of this. I chose my profession. I loved it. I
delighted in action, and all I wish to impress on my readers is the
nature and duties of a sailor's life. Still, had I again to begin my
existence in this sublunary world and once more to choose my profession,
above all others I would select that of an officer in the glorious navy
of old England.