PART I

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TALES OF AN OLD SEA PORT

A GENERAL SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF BRISTOL, RHODE ISLAND, INCLUDING,

INCIDENTALLY, AN ACCOUNT OF THE VOYAGES OF THE NORSEMEN, SO FAR AS

THEY MAY HAVE BEEN CONNECTED WITH NARRAGANSETT BAY: AND PERSONAL

NARRATIVES OF SOME NOTABLE VOYAGES ACCOMPLISHED BY SAILORS FROM THE

MOUNT HOPE LANDS

by

WILFRED HAROLD MUNRO

Of Brown University

Princeton University Press

Princeton

London: Humphrey Milford

Oxford University Press

1917

Copyright, 1917, by

Princeton University Press

Published November, 1917

Printed in the United States of America

[Illustration: PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS (colophon)]

CONTENTS

PAGE

Introduction: Old Bristol 1

Part I--Simeon Potter and the Prince Charles of Lorraine

1--Simeon Potter 37

2--Letter of Father Fauque 48

Part II--Norwest John and the Voyage of the Juno

1--Norwest John 97

2--Voyage of the Juno 100

Part III--James de Wolf and the Privateer Yankee

1--James De Wolf 205

2--Journal of the Yankee 225

Index 289

TALES OF AN OLD SEA PORT

INTRODUCTION: OLD BRISTOL

From the earliest days of the Plymouth Colony the name Mount Hope

Lands has been applied to the peninsula in Narragansett Bay of which

Bristol, Rhode Island, is the chief town. The history of this town

is more crowded with notable incident than that of any other in New

England. First and most picturesque is the story of the Norsemen.

Around Mount Hope the legends of the Norsemen cluster, shadowy,

vague, elusive, and yet altogether fascinating. Only legends they are

and must remain.

After the lapse of a thousand years of changing climates and of

varying shores no man can definitely locate the Vinland of the

Vikings. Many have attempted to do so, and, like the late Professor

E. N. Horsford,[1] have established their theses to their own

satisfaction and the satisfaction of the present dwellers in _their_

Vinland, but they have not succeeded in convincing any one else.

One of the latest writers[2] approaching the subject without local

prejudice, and judging of the past by the ever changing present, will

have it that the physical conditions of the lands around Narragansett

Bay in the eleventh century were such as to make it more than

probable that the “Hop” of the Norsemen is the Mount Hope of

today.[3] In his conclusions all good Bristolians, yea more, all good

Rhode Islanders, cheerfully join. Scandinavian writers insist that

the name “Mount Hope” is of Norse origin. They assert that it is only

an English spelling of the Indian name Montop, or Monthaup, and they

are probably correct in their assertion. The Indians had no written

language and our Pilgrim ancestors spelled the Indian words as they

pleased, sometimes in half a dozen ways upon the same page. They go

on to say that the termination “hop” was the name which Thorfinn and

his companions gave to this region when they wintered here in 1008,

and they bring forward the old Norse sagas to prove it. This is the

story as the sagas tell it:

In the year of Our Lord 1000 the Norsemen first visited the shores

of Vinland. They came from Greenland, a hundred years and more after

their countrymen had discovered and colonized Iceland. Their ship

was an open boat from fifty to seventy-five feet long, similar to

the one dug from the sands at Sandefjord, Norway, in 1880, which is

preserved in the museum of the university at Christiania. It was

propelled by oars and had a short mast amidships on which was spread

a small square sail. Both mast and sail were used only when the wind

was fair. They came creeping along from headland to headland, seldom

venturing out of sight of land in the unfamiliar seas. The mariner’s

compass was then unknown, except perhaps to the Chinese, and the

art of propelling a boat against the wind by “tacking” had not been

developed, unless possibly by those same Chinese. It would have been

impossible to tack in one of the Viking ships. In the first place the

sail area was too small and in the second place the steering was all

done from one side. A long steering oar was fastened upon a fulcrum

about two feet long on the right side of the boat, the steer-board,

starboard side. On one tack the oar would have been useless because

submerged, on the other equally useless because it could not go deep

enough to “grip” the water. To men accustomed to the icy Arctic seas,

voyages southward held out no terrors; they were only pleasant summer

excursions.

Thirty-five men made up the party and their leader was Leif Ericson.

His purpose was to explore the coasts which his countryman, Biarni

Heriulfson, had seen several years before, when in attempting to

cross from Iceland to Greenland adverse winds had driven him to lands

lying far to the south, possibly the island of Newfoundland. Leif

was sailing in Biarni’s ship which he had bought for the voyage. The

first shores sighted they conjectured to be those which Biarni had

seen. They offered no attractions. The explorers called the country

Helluland, the Land of Broad Stones, and passed on to Markland, the

Land of Woods, which may have been Nova Scotia. A few more days

brought them to an island where they noticed a peculiar sweetness in

the dew. They may have been the first “Off Islanders” to land upon

Nantucket, which is noted for its honey-dew. Following the coast they

came to a place “where a river flowed out of a lake.” The region

was inviting but the tide was low and the explorers were obliged to

wait until high water before they could pass over the broad shallows

into the lake beyond. Here they disembarked and erected temporary

habitations which soon gave place to permanent dwellings when they

determined to winter at that place. The new houses were easily

constructed from the stones which abundantly covered the fields as

they do even to this day.

The place seemed a paradise to the hardy voyagers. Fish of many

kinds leaped from the waters of the river and bay. Salmon larger

than any they had before seen were especially abundant. Many wild

animals roamed through the forests, as the deer wander through the

woods and pastures of Rhode Island at the present time. The denizens

of the frigid zone rightly imagined that cattle might easily find

provender throughout the winter, in a climate so soft and mild. They

experienced no severe cold; “no snow fell and the grass did not

wither much.” They had chanced upon one of the mild winters with

which we are occasionally favored. Three or four times in the last

thirty years the Mount Hope Lands have known seasons when there were

but few snow storms and those slight, seasons when in the sheltered

nooks of the forest the grass did not wither much. The next party

encountered “real New England weather,” and doubtless objurgated

Leif’s party for romancing concerning the climate. “The equality

in length of days was greater than in Iceland or Greenland. On the

shortest day the sun remained above the horizon from 7.30 to 4.30.”[4]

The dwellings having been completed, Leif divided his men into two

parties in order to explore the country. One party was to remain at

home while the other went abroad, and the exploring party was always

to return at nightfall. Especial charge was given the men to keep

together. The fear of the unknown was a marked characteristic of

the Dark Ages, even among the Norsemen who dreaded no human foes.

One of the party was a German, Tyrker by name, a kind of foster

father of Leif. He was missing one night when the explorers came

home and Leif at once started in search of him with a party of

twelve men. They were soon met by Tyrker, whom they welcomed with

great joy. But the man acted most strangely. At first he spoke only

in German, his mother tongue, and rolled his eyes and made strange

facial contortions when they did not understand what he said.

After a time the Norse language came back to him and he explained

his queer behavior. He had chanced upon some wild grapes and the

memories his discovery brought back were too much for him. Whether

he had found some of the fox-grapes which are still so common in New

England, or whether, as Professor Fernald conjectures, the fruit was

either a wild currant or a rock cranberry, we can not know; but the

adventurers were immensely pleased at his discovery. They filled the

“long boat,” which was carried with them as a tender, with the dried

fruit, when in the early spring they returned to Brattahlid, their

home port. Because of the grapes the name Vinland was given to the

region.

The return of Leif and the account his sailors gave naturally caused

intense excitement in that quiet community. In the spring of 1002

Thorvald Ericson, taking his brother’s ship and probably some of

Leif’s crew as guides, sailed on another voyage to Vinland. His

object was to make a more thorough exploration of the country. Thirty

men made up Thorvald’s party. Nothing is told of their voyage until

they reached Leif’s booths in Vinland. There they laid up their ship

and remained quietly through the winter, living by hunting and

fishing. The next year was spent in exploring the lands to the south.

The second summer they turned their steps northward and in this

northern expedition Thorvald was killed in a battle with the natives.

His comrades buried him on the headland where he had proposed to

settle. “There you shall bury me,” he told them after he had received

his death wound, “and place a cross at my head and another at my

feet, and the place shall be called Crossness ever after.” The

winter of 1004-5 was passed in Leifsbooths gathering cargo for the

return voyage. In the spring they sailed back to Greenland carrying

large quantities of grapes as their companions had done. Because of

Thorvald’s death the accounts of his voyage are probably more meagre

than they otherwise would have been.

In 1007 the most important of the Norse expeditions sailed from

Greenland. Its leader was Thorfinn Karlsefni. Thorfinn was both

seaman and merchant. Sailing from Iceland to Greenland on a trading

voyage, he had wintered at Brattahlid and there married his wife

Gudrid. Naturally there had been much talk of Vinland the Good during

the long Arctic winter and in the spring an expedition to explore the

new country was fitted out. It consisted of three ships manned by one

hundred and sixty men. With it went Gudrid and six other women, for

it was proposed to colonize the land. Thorfinn spent the winter amid

great hardships, caused by cold and lack of food, on what may have

been one of the islands of Buzzard’s Bay. There his son Snorri was

born, as far as we know the first child of European parents born upon

the shores of the American continent. In the spring, coming at last

to the place “where a river flowed down from the land into a lake and

then into the sea,” they waited for the high tide, as Leif had done,

sailed into the mouth of the river and called the place Hop.[5] On

the lowlands about them were self-sown fields of grain; on the high

ground the wild grapes grew in great profusion. Deer and other wild

animals roamed through the forests. The brooks as well as the bay

were filled with fish. They dug pits upon the beach before the high

tide came and when the tide fell the pits were leaping with fish.

Just so today flounders may be caught along the Narragansett shores.

The booths that Leif’s party had put up could not accommodate the new

comers and additional houses were built inland above the lake. No

snow fell during the winter. The cattle they had brought with them

needed no protection and lived by grazing. None of the privations of

the previous winter were experienced, and all things went well until

the Skraelings, or natives, appeared. At first the Skraelings came

only for trading. They wished to exchange skins for goods, being

especially anxious to obtain little strips of scarlet cloth, and

willingly giving a whole skin for the smallest strip. The Norsemen

benevolently attempted to satisfy the desires of all by tearing the

cloth into smaller and yet smaller pieces as the supply diminished.

While the bartering was going on one of the bulls Thorfinn had

brought with him appeared upon the scene, bellowing loudly. Thereupon

the savages rushed to their canoes and paddled away as quickly as

possible. A month later they reappeared, this time not to barter but

to fight. In the combat that followed two Northmen fell and many of

the Skraelings were killed. This battle convinced Thorfinn that the

lands though excellent in quality would be undesirable for a colony

by reason of the hostility of the natives. He therefore turned his

keels northward and returned to Greenland in 1010.

From this time expeditions to Vinland to procure grapes and timber

became frequent. Because they had lost their novelty they ceased

to be chronicled. As the saga puts it, “they were esteemed both

lucrative and honorable.” One noteworthy one is given in the

“Antiquitates Americanae,” that of Freydis and her husband Thorvald.

The tale of Freydis is a grewsome one. She seems to have been

entirely lacking in human sensibilities. Her husband murdered in cold

blood all the men of a party that had opposed him but he spared their

five women. Freydis seized an axe and brained them all. Possibly

their mangled remains may have been buried at the foot of Mount Hope.

Other mention of Vinland is found apart from the Icelandic

chronicles. Adam of Bremen in his “Historia Ecclesiastica,” published

in 1073, describes Iceland and Greenland and then goes on to say that

there is another country far out in the ocean which has been visited

by many persons, and which is called Vinland because of the grapes

found there. In Vinland, he says, corn grows without cultivation, as

he learns from trustworthy Norse sources. This must of course have

been the Indian corn, a grain that is hardly possible of cultivation

in Europe north of the Alps.

The people of Iceland were more given to the writing of chronicles

than were those of the countries of Europe, but unhappily Iceland was

a land of volcanoes and eruptions were not infrequent. An eruption of

Mount Hecla in 1390 buried several of the neighboring estates beneath

its ashes. Perhaps under those ashes may be lying other sagas that

may at some time be brought again to light, as in the case of the

scrolls of Pompeii. Mention of the lands that Leif discovered is

found in the “Annals of Iceland” as late as 1347. The last Bishop of

Greenland was appointed in the first decade of the fifteenth century

and since that time the colony has never been heard of. Ruins of its

houses may still be seen, but of the fate of those who dwelt in them

we know nothing.

One witness there still may be to testify to the Norse visits. About

thirty-five years ago a rock known by tradition but lost sight of

for half a century was rediscovered on the shores of Mount Hope Bay.

Upon it is rudely carved the figure of a boat with what may have been

a Runic inscription beneath it. The writing was surely not graven

by English hands and the Indians had no written language. May not

the strange carving have been made by the axe of a Norseman? It is

not remarkable that the rock was lost sight of for so many years.

The inscription is inconspicuous and the rock is like hundreds of

others along the shore. Moreover it was sometimes covered by the high

tides of spring and fall. It has recently been removed to a more

conspicuous position and may ere long be protected by a fence from

the vandalism of the occasional tourist.

Fact and not fancy characterizes the Indian history of the Mount Hope

Lands. First upon the scene steps Massasoit, “Friend of the White

Man,” ruler of all the region when the Pilgrims of the Mayflower

landed upon the shores of Plymouth. Like all the Indian sachems,

Massasoit had many places of residence. He moved from one to another

as the great barons of the Middle Ages moved from one castle to

another, and for the same reason. When provisions became scarce in

one place a region where they were more plentiful was sought. One

of his villages was unquestionably upon the slope of Mount Hope.

Not many weeks after the landing of the Pilgrims Massasoit had paid

them a visit in their new settlement. In July, 1621, Edward Winslow

and Stephen Hopkins were sent by Governor Bradford to return the

visit. Of what happened to this “embassy” and to a second sent some

two years later, Winslow presented a very full account, which may be

read in very nearly all of the histories of the period. It is one

of the most trustworthy and valuable pictures of Indian royal state

that have come down to us from colonial days. Winslow found Massasoit

occupying a wigwam only a little larger than those of his subjects.

The sleeping place was a low platform of boards covered with a thin

mat. On this bed, says Winslow, Massasoit placed his visitors, with

himself and his wife at one end and the Englishmen at the other,

and two more of Massasoit’s men passed by and upon them, so that

they were worse weary of the lodging than of the journey. As the

sachem had not been apprised of Winslow’s projected visit, he had

made no provisions for his entertainment. No supper whatsoever was

secured that night, and not until one o’clock of the next afternoon

was food to be had. Then two large fish, which had just been shot

(with arrows, of course), were boiled and placed before the sachem’s

guests, now numbering forty or more besides the two Englishmen.

In 1623 tidings reached Plymouth that Massasoit was sick and likely

to die. Edward Winslow was therefore sent to visit him a second time.

With him went a young English gentleman who was wintering at Plymouth

and who desired much to see the country. His name was John Hampden,

a name destined to become famous wherever the English language was

spoken. The great John Hampden was born in 1594. He would have been

twenty-nine years old at this time. He had as yet done nothing

whatever to make himself famous and was a comparatively inconspicuous

man, notwithstanding the prominent position his family had held for

centuries in England. There is no record of his presence in England

at this time. Like Oliver Cromwell he may have been considering

a residence in America among men of his own religious faith, and

for this reason may have made a preliminary visit to this country.

Green, discussing in his “History of the English People” Cromwell’s

scheme for emigrating to America, says: “It is more certain that

John Hampden purchased a tract of land on the Narragansett.” Most

important of all, the name of John Hampden appears in the list of the

Charter Members of the Colony of Connecticut.

As long as he lived Massasoit remained the firm friend of the

colonists. Upon his death, in 1662, his son Wamsutta (or Alexander)

headed the Wampanoag tribe for a year, and then came Philip,

Massasoit’s second son. Philip was a foe to the white men, made such

by English treatment of his tribe. He was one of the ablest Indian

leaders this country has produced, a wonderful organizer, a skillful

diplomatist. From tribe to tribe he journeyed, inducing them to rest

from their interminable wars and to turn their weapons against the

common enemy of all. But for an accident which caused hostilities

to begin a little while before the year (1676) Philip had fixed

upon, the colonists would have been swept from the land. The war

began in 1675, and Capt. Benjamin Church, the conqueror of Philip,

wrote an account of it. Benjamin Church was one of our greatest

“Indian fighters.” He had lain in their wigwams, he had studied their

character. Naturally and inevitably he came at last to the leadership

of the colonial forces. When Philip’s plans had all come to naught,

the Wampanoag sachem came back to Mt. Hope, to make his last stand

and to die. Death came to him from a bullet fired by one of his own

men who had taken service in Capt. Church’s company. In 1876, on the

two hundredth anniversary of his death, the Rhode Island Historical

Society, with appropriate ceremonies, placed a boulder monument on

the top of Mt. Hope, with this inscription:

KING PHILIP, AUGUST 12, 1676. O. S.

Beside Cold Spring on the west side of the hill a massive block of

granite records that

IN THE MIERY SWAMP 166 FEET W. S. W. FROM THIS SPRING,

ACCORDING TO TRADITION, KING PHILIP FELL,

AUGUST 12, 1676. O. S.

The Mt. Hope lands should have fallen to Plymouth by right of

conquest, as they were included in the territory originally granted

to that colony. But both the Colony of Massachusetts Bay and the

Colony of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations claimed a portion

of the spoils. So delegates of the several colonies were sent to

argue the case before Charles II. Singularly enough another claimant

appeared in the person of John Crowne, a poet. Crowne was a native of

Nova Scotia. His father had purchased a large tract of land in that

country which had become practically valueless because of the cession

of Nova Scotia to the French. He therefore asked that the small

tract of land which had lately come into English possession should be

turned over to him as a compensation. But Mt. Hope, though belonging

to the English Crown, was not to be Crowne land. The Plymouth Colony

agents claimed that the tract, comprising almost 7000 acres, part of

it good soil and much of it rocky, mountainous and barren, for which

they had fought and bled, should be awarded to them, more especially

because it would afford to them the seaport which they lacked. Their

arguments were convincing and the land was awarded to Plymouth by

special grant, January 12, 1680. The king among other things demanded

a quit rent annually of seven beaver skins. No other royal grant was

made of conquered lands, but conflicting claims necessitated this.

Plymouth Colony at once placed the lands on the market, and September

14, 1680, sold them for $1,100 to four men of Boston, John Walley,

Nathaniel Byfield, Stephen Burton and Nathaniel Oliver. The first

three of these became residents of the town they founded. Of them,

Byfield was the ablest and most distinguished. He came of good stock.

His father was of the Westminster Assembly of Divines. His mother was

sister of Juxon, bishop of London and later archbishop of Canterbury,

who was a personal friend of Charles I, and attended that ill

fated monarch upon the scaffold. Byfield was the wealthiest of the

settlers. He had one residence upon Poppasquash near the head of that

peninsula, and one upon what is now Byfield Street in the south part

of the town. He was a man of unusual ability and large wealth. He was

also a man of great liberality in all his dealings with the town. His

public service was continuous and distinguished. His liberal mind

resisted the insane fanaticism of the people during their delusion

on the subject of witchcraft, and in his will he left a bequest “to

all and every minister of Christ of every denomination in Boston.”

He lived forty-four years in Bristol, only leaving the town when his

advanced age made the greater comforts of Boston necessary.

John Walley was also of good stock, his father being rector of one

of the London churches. In 1690 he commanded the land forces of

William Phipps in the expedition against Canada. He also, in his old

age, was forced by disease to seek a more luxurious abode in Boston.

Stephen Burton was said to have been a graduate of Oxford. He was

undoubtedly the most scholarly man of the four proprietors. Oliver, a

rich Bostonian, never resided in Bristol but sold his share to Nathan

Hayman, another wealthy Boston merchant.

With men like these as sponsors for the new settlement, it was not

difficult to secure settlers. The most noted among them was Benjamin

Church, the Indian fighter already mentioned. Capt. Church built a

house upon Constitution Street. (Church Street was not named in his

honor. Upon that street stood the edifice which gave it its name, the

building in which the members of the Church of England worshipped.

There were many streets named for a like reason in colonial days.)

He was the first representative of the town in the general court of

Plymouth Colony and was many times elected to public office. In his

later years he made his home in Little Compton, whence many of his

descendants drifted back to Bristol. Because the town was to be the

seaport of Plymouth Colony, many of the descendants of the Mayflower

Pilgrims naturally came to dwell within its borders. In choosing

Bristol for its name, the settlers cherished a hope that, as in the

case of its English namesake, it would become the great city upon the

west. Boston on the east shore was the London of Massachusetts.

The new town was laid out on a liberal scale, with side streets

crossing each other at right angles, and a spacious “common” in the

center of the settlement. The grand articles stipulated that all

houses should be two stories high, with not less than two good rooms

on a floor. As most of the settlers could not well spare the time,

if they had the means, for building a house with four rooms upon a

floor, the “camelopard” type of dwelling was much in evidence. This

presented a goodly appearance to the eye of him who stood directly

in front, but degenerated greatly when one shifted his position,

the roof sloping severely and persistently down to a woodpile. One

chimney was deemed sufficient for a house. We should deem such a

one more than sufficient. If of brick it was about fourteen feet

square; if of stone, about twenty feet. All the chimneys had immense

fireplaces, into which a man could sometimes walk without stooping,

and all were admirably adapted to keep a house cold. The rooms

were abominably drafty, and the high backed settle was an absolute

necessity. A great pile of logs might be blistering the faces while

the snow was drifting in through the cracks upon the backs.

The first house built is still standing just north of the town

bridge. Deacon Nathaniel Bosworth was its builder, an ancestor of

those who own it today. Only the southwestern part of the present

structure was the work of Deacon Bosworth. The best house was

naturally that of Byfield. It was two stories high, with a barn roof,

and was nearly square, thirty by thirty-eight feet. It was torn down

in 1833, and a hard job the destroyers had. The chimney stood in the

center of the house. It was built of imported bricks held together

by mortar mixed with shell lime. This mortar had become hard as

stone. When the chimney was overthrown it fell to the ground almost

unbroken, as an oak tree would fall. Byfield had another house at the

head of the harbor on Poppasquash. In each room were deep fireplaces,

across which ran an oaken beam a foot square. One winter morning the

owner of the house was surprised, when he came down stairs, to find

the house even colder than usual. The front door was open and the

floor was covered with snow drifts. As the door was never locked the

phenomenon interested him but little, and he hastened out to feed

his cattle. One ox was missing and the farmer went back to the house

to organize a searching party, but as he opened the door and turned

his eyes toward the fireplace, he changed his plans. There lay the

huge creature tranquilly chewing the cud of complete contentment.

It had found the door ajar, pushed it open and established itself

comfortably upon the still warm ashes.

The town was founded for “purposes of trade and commerce” and early

its sails began to whiten the seas. Naturally the first commerce was

coastwise only. Then vessels sought the ports of the West Indies and

Spanish Main, laden most frequently with that bulb whose fragrance

lingers longest in the nostrils, the onion. The culture of this

vegetable was one of the three things for which the town was noted

for more than two centuries.

There once dwelt in Bristol a man named Sammy Usher, who was noted

for his irascibility not less than for his caustic tongue. One day a

visitor from Brown University was introduced to him. This young man,

though a sophomore, was yet somewhat fresh, and Sammy did not like

him. He said, “Mr. Usher, I hear that Bristol is noted for three

things, its geese, girls and onions. What do you do with them all?”

“Oh,” said Usher, “we marry our girls as soon as they grow up, we

ship our onions to Cuba, and we send our geese to college.” The first

recorded shipment, however, was not of onions. November 6, 1686,

Byfield placed a number of his horses on board the Bristol Merchant

bound for Surinam. Possibly they may have been of the Narragansett

pacer breed for which the south county was so long famous. Very early

in the town’s history, sails were turned to the coast of Africa. The

voyage was the most hazardous that could be taken, but the returns

from a successful venture were enormous. There was profit on each leg

of the voyage. The first leg was from the home port, with the hold

filled with casks of New England rum and small crates of trinkets.

One cask was ordinarily enough to secure a slave, but before the

cargo was complete, all hands were likely to be down with coast

fever. When the crew were again strong enough to work the vessel, the

“middle passage” to the West Indies was made, and the live freight,

which had been handled with as great care as are the cattle on the

Atlantic transports today, was exchanged for casks of molasses. Then

came the last leg of the voyage. The molasses was carried to Bristol

to be converted into rum. This trade the town shared with Newport and

Providence.

No stigma whatever was attached to the slave traffic as carried on in

the seventeenth century and for the greater part of the eighteenth.

The voyages, while always dangerous, were not always profitable. The

vessels engaged in them were ordinarily small; sometimes they were

sloops of less than a hundred tons. A fleet of them could be stowed

away in the hold of a Lusitania. They had to be small and of light

draft in order to run up the shallow rivers to whose banks their

human cargo was driven. Lying at anchor in the stifling heat, with no

wind to drive away the swarming insect life, the deadly coast fever

would descend upon a ship, and, having swept away half its crew,

leave those who survived too weak to hoist the sails. The captains

were, for the most part, God fearing men, working hard to support

their families at home. One piously informs his owners that “we have

now been twenty days upon the coast and by the blessing of God shall

soon have a good cargo.” The number of negroes taken on board a ship

was never large until the trade was declared to be piratical. Then

conditions changed horribly. It did not pay to take more on board

than could be delivered in the West Indies in prime condition. They

were not packed more closely than were the crews of the privateers of

whom we shall read later on.

Naturally not a few slaves found their way to Bristol. When the

first slave was brought there we do not know. Nathaniel Byfield, in

his will, gives directions for the disposition of his “negro slave

Rose, brought to Bristol from the West Indies in the spring of 1718.”

Quickly they became numerous. The census of 1774 records 114 blacks

in a total population of 1209, almost one-tenth. At first they lived

on the estates of their owners, and were known by his name, if they

had any surname. After the Revolutionary War, when slavery had been

abolished (mainly because it was unprofitable), they gathered into

a district by themselves on the outskirts of the town. This region

was called “Gorea” from that part of the coast of Africa with which

the slave traders were most familiar. It continued to be known as

such until the buildings of the great rubber works crowded it out of

existence in the early ’70s of the last century.

Naturally and inevitably the town became involved in the contest that

resulted in the independence of America. The affair of the Gaspee

was the first in which her people participated. The Gaspee was an

armed schooner stationed in Narragansett Bay for the prevention of

smuggling. Smuggling was as much in vogue in American waters as in

the waters surrounding the British Isles, and was regarded with no

more disfavor in one case than in the other. The commander of the

vessel was Lieutenant Thomas Duddington, a man who was entirely

lacking in tact, and who carried himself with such haughty arrogance

as to make himself most obnoxious. One day while chasing one of

the packet sloops that plied between New York and Providence, he

ran aground on Namquit (now Gaspee) Point. His “chase” escaped and

carried the joyful tidings of his plight to Providence. At once

drummers were sent through the streets proclaiming the situation of

the vessel, and calling for volunteers to destroy her before the next

high tide. Eight long boats were furnished by John Brown, the leading

merchant of the town, which were quickly filled by a rejoicing

band. No attempt at disguise was made by those who took part in the

expedition, but the oars were muffled to enable the boats to make the

attack without being seen. As they drew near the vessel, a little

after midnight, they were joined by a whaleboat containing a party

from Bristol under the command of Captain Simeon Potter.[6]

Their approach was discovered by the watch upon the Gaspee, and as

the boats dashed forward they were fired upon from the schooner. The

fire was at once returned by the attacking party, and the vessel was

boarded and captured after a short but desperate struggle. In this

struggle Lieutenant Duddington was wounded, though not seriously. The

crew were captured, bound and set on shore. The vessel was set on

fire and completely destroyed. Then, having been entirely successful

in their expedition, the boats rowed joyfully homeward. Those who

took part in the exploit made no effort to conceal it and some of

them even boasted of what they had done. The British Government

at once offered a large reward for information that would lead to

the conviction of the bold offenders. Some of them were among the

foremost men in the Colony and almost every one knew their names,

the name of Abraham Whipple especially being on the lips of all the

people, but no man of any character could be found to testify against

them and none of them were ever brought to trial. The affair took

place on June 10, 1772. It was the first contest in which British

blood was shed in an expedition openly organized against the forces

of the mother country, and it differed from all the other preliminary

encounters because of the character of those engaged in it. Other

outbreaks were the work of an irresponsible mob. Crispus Attucks, for

instance, who fell in the so called Boston Massacre, was a mulatto

and the men whom he led were of his type. But some of the leading

men of Rhode Island sat on the thwarts of the nine boats, and their

boldness seems almost incredible to us of the present day. It shows

that while public sentiment at Newport and New York and the other

great seats of commerce along the coast may have favored the king,

the people of the Providence Plantations were already prepared to

sever their relations with England.

The only “lyric” to commemorate the affair came from the pen of

Captain Thomas Swan of Bristol, one of those who took part in it. His

effusion has never appeared in any history of American literature,

for good and sufficient reasons, but it is printed in full in Munro’s

“History of Bristol.” The participation of the Bristol men in the

Gaspee affair is often denied by “out of town” people. I have no

doubt respecting the matter. My own grandmother, born in 1784, the

daughter of a soldier of the Revolution who was born in 1762 and

lived until 1821, and whose grandfather, born in 1731, lived until

1817, firmly believed in it. She had had opportunities for talking

the subject over with two generations who were living on June 10,

1772.

In January, 1881, Bishop Smith of Kentucky, born in Bristol in 1794

and a graduate of Brown in 1816, wrote to me calling my attention

to a slight difference between the “Swan Song,” as I had given it

in my “History of Bristol,” and a version pasted upon the back of

a portrait of Thomas Swan’s father by Thomas Swan himself. Capt.

Swan was Bishop Smith’s uncle. The Bishop wrote, “I should not have

troubled you on so inconsiderable a point had not the tradition in

our family been that _the Bristol boat was manned by men in the

disguise of Narragansett Indians_.”

When Bishop Smith penned those lines several men were living in

Bristol who had heard the story from Captain Swan’s own lips. He

delighted in telling it and was accustomed to give the names of

Bristol participants. Those names had unhappily escaped the memory of

his auditors. The correspondence on the subject of the Gaspee, which

occurred during the Revolutionary War between Abraham Whipple and

Captain Sir James Wallace, the commander of the British naval forces

in Narragansett Bay, is worthy of another reproduction:

Wallace to Whipple:

“You, Abraham Whipple, on the 10th June, 1772, burned his Majesty’s

vessel, the Gaspee, and I will hang you at the yard arm.--James

Wallace.”

Whipple to Wallace:

“To Sir James Wallace; Sir; Always catch a man before you hang

him.--Abraham Whipple.”

On October 7, 1775, the town was bombarded by a British fleet. The

squadron consisted of three ships of war, one bomb brig, one schooner

and some smaller vessels, fifteen sail in all. They had sailed up

from Newport under the command of Sir James Wallace. A boat’s crew

was sent on shore to demand sheep from the town. As they were not

forthcoming, the boat returned to the ship and shortly afterward the

whole fleet began “a most heavy cannonading, heaving also shells and

‘carcasses’ into the town.” (Carcasses were vessels bound together

with hoops and filled with combustibles.) Singularly enough, no one

was killed, though many buildings were struck by balls. The next

morning the sheep demanded were furnished and the fleet sailed away.

An epidemic of dysentery was raging at the time, seventeen persons

having died within a fortnight; and the fact that at least one

hundred sick persons would have to be removed if the cannonading was

resumed influenced the town committee to provide the supply demanded.

One life, however, went out because of the bombardment. The Rev. John

Burt, the aged pastor of the Congregational Church, had for a long

time been sick and feeble. When the air was filled with missiles he

fled from his house, no one seeing him, and wandered away, weak and

bewildered. The next morning, as he did not appear in the meeting

house at the hour of service, his congregation went out to seek him.

They found at last him lying dead upon his face in a field of ripened

corn.

About three years later, on Sunday, May 25, 1778, most of the houses

in the center of the town were burned by the British. Five hundred

British and Hessian soldiers landed on the “West Shore,” marched

quickly through Warren to the Kickamuit River, and there burned

seventy or more flat-boats that had been gathered together by the

colonists for the purpose of making an expedition against the enemy.

The raiders set fire to some buildings in Warren and then proceeded

along the main road to Bristol, making prisoners of the men found

in the farm houses standing near the highway. A force of perhaps

three hundred militia had been hastily gathered at Bristol to oppose

them. But, as is almost always the case, the number of the marauding

troops was greatly exaggerated and the American commanding officer

did not deem himself strong enough to oppose them. Withdrawing in

the direction of Mount Hope he left the town to their mercy. The

torch was first applied to Parson Burt’s house, which stood near the

Congregational Meeting House.

Mr. Burt had died during the bombardment, as has been before related,

but he had been fearless in his denunciation of royal tyranny

during his life and his house was burned as a warning. Then the

other buildings southward along the main street were set on fire,

including the residence of Deputy Governor Bradford, this last being

the finest house in town. One of the Governor’s negro servants had

just begun his dinner when he saw the flames bursting forth. He was

quite equal to the occasion. Running to the burying ground on the

Common, not far away, he seated himself, frying pan in hand, upon a

tombstone and calmly finished his meal. Thirty or more buildings

were burned, among them being the edifice of the Church of England,

Saint Michael’s Church. This last structure was destroyed through

a mistake, the incendiaries supposing that they were burning the

Dissenters’ Meeting House. The sexton of Saint Michael’s refused to

believe that his church was burned. “It can’t be,” he said, “for I

have the key in my pocket.” From this time until the close of the

war the tread of marching feet was heard almost daily. The soldiers,

however, were only militiamen summoned hastily together to defend

their homes. They were poorly drilled and still more poorly armed,

the kind of soldier that springs to arms at an instant’s call. The

immediate danger having passed, they returned to their farms and

their workshops.

Until October 25, 1779, when the British forces left Newport, the

fortunes of those who dwelt upon the Mount Hope Lands were hazardous

in the extreme. Lafayette had established his headquarters in the

north part of the town but was soon forced to remove them to “a safer

place behind Warren.” The peninsula was so easily accessible that

raids upon its shores were frequent. One result of the marauding

expeditions was the cutting down of the forests that had lined the

shores of Narragansett Bay. This was especially notable in the case

of the island of Prudence, just at the mouth of Bristol harbor. Today

the island is almost treeless, no attempt at reforestation having

been made. The people of Bristol were wise in their generation and

now from the harbor the town seems to nestle in a forest.

The winter of 1779-80 was one of the most severe ever known in the

Colonies. For six weeks the bay was frozen from shore and the ice

extended far out to sea. Wood in most of the towns sold for $20 a

cord. The prices of all kinds of provisions soared in like manner.

Corn sold for four silver dollars a bushel and potatoes for two

dollars. What their prices were in the depreciated Rhode Island paper

currency we can only imagine. While the bay was still frozen some

of the barracks on Poppasquash, that had been used by the French

allies, were moved across the harbor on the ice. One of them is still

used as a dwelling house. It stands on the west side of High Street

just north of Bradford. From 1774 to 1782 the population of the town

decreased 14.6 per cent. More noteworthy still, in that same period

the percentage of decrease in the case of the blacks was more than

thirty per cent.

In 1781 the town was first honored by the presence of George

Washington. He passed through it on his way to Providence. It was a

great day for the people of the place. They all turned out to greet

the hero, standing in double lines as he rode through the streets.

“Marm” Burt’s school children were especially in evidence. This lady

was the widow of the Parson Burt who had died during the bombardment.

She had sustained herself since her husband’s death by keeping a

“dame’s school.” To impress the occasion upon the minds of her pupils

she made them learn these lines:

“In seventeen hundred and eighty-one

I saw General Washington.”

Imagine the General’s emotions as he heard them singing the verse, at

the top of their voices of course, as he passed.

Washington afterward made several visits to the town. In 1793 he

spent a week at the home of Governor Bradford, at “the Mount,”

Bradford being then a member of the United States Senate. The

Bradford house is still standing.

Rhode Island was the last of the “Old Thirteen” to adopt the

Federal Constitution. Then as always she chafed at the domination

of Massachusetts. Because Bristol had been a part of Massachusetts

before it became a part of Rhode Island it was still greatly

influenced by the ideas of the “Bay Colony.” When in 1788 the

question of adopting the Constitution was submitted to the people of

Rhode Island, Bristol and Little Compton (which had also been a part

of Massachusetts) were the only towns in which a majority in favor

of the adoption was obtained. A great celebration took place in 1790

when the State became a member of the United States of America.

At once the energy which had lain dormant during the Revolutionary

War revived. Commerce again became active. Evidence of this was

manifested by the building of new distilleries. One, erected by the

leading firm of ship owners, was opened in 1792. They were preparing

for a renewal of the trade with Africa. For thirty-five years

thereafter two hundred gallons of rum were here each day distilled.

At one time five distilleries were in active operation. The last

of them closed its doors in 1830, the business having ceased to be

profitable.

In the first quarter of the last century two great religious revivals

transformed the town. They began in Saint Michael’s Church in the

rectorship of Bishop Griswold. The town then numbered about two

thousand inhabitants, almost all of whom were more or less connected

with the sea. The first among the laymen to take part in the movement

was a sea captain who had just returned from a voyage to the Island

of Trinidad. Before he left Bristol, the unwonted fervor of Bishop

Griswold’s sermons and discourses had turned his thoughts toward

the attainment of the holier and higher life, whose glories the

bishop was ever placing before his people. The awful solemnity of

the ocean had completed the lesson. On Saturday night he returned

from his voyage. The next day, when the bishop had finished his

sermon, the emotions that stirred the soul of the sailor entirely

overcame the modesty that usually kept him back from the public

notice. Rising from his seat, he went forward to the old wine-glass

pulpit in which the preacher was yet standing, and conversed with

him earnestly for a few moments, while the congregation looked on

with amazement at the unusual interruption. With that benignant smile

which marked his gentle nature, Bishop Griswold assented to the

request that was preferred; and placing his hand upon the shoulder

of the eager enthusiast, he turned to the congregation and said: “My

friends, Captain ---- wishes to tell you what the Lord has done for

his soul.” Then the quiet sailor told the congregation the story of

the change that had been wrought in him; told it without a thought

of the unusual part he was assuming; told it in the simplest words,

with no attempt at eloquence or effect, but with the wondrous power

of God’s love so plainly before his eyes that the minds of all his

hearers went with him upon the sea, and felt the struggle which had

brought his soul out of darkness into light. Never, even, had the

inspired words of their pastor stirred the people of St. Michael’s

Church more strongly. When he ceased there was hardly a dry eye in

the congregation. Only a few well chosen words did the bishop add to

intensify the lesson, and then dismissed his people with the usual

benediction.

From that day the revival became general. Through the town it spread,

until the minds of all were turned to thoughts of the life that was

to come. The sound of the workman’s hammer was unheard for a season,

the horses stood idle in their stalls, the noise of merry laughter

ceased as the crowds of serious worshippers poured onward to the

churches. For days these remarkable scenes were to be witnessed;

their effect could be observed for years.

The second revival came in 1820. Like the first it began in Saint

Michael’s Church. It lasted for about three months. The first meeting

was held in a private house. The Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, writing

sixty years later, said: “It was with unbounded surprise that I

went into the house at the hour appointed. It was crowded in every

room, staircase and entry, as if some unusually crowded funeral were

there. But for ministering to this people, hungry for the bread of

life, I was there alone. They had placed a Bible and Prayer-book

on the first landing of the stairs. The people were crowded above

me and below me, as far as my eye could reach, in the most eager

attention to the Word. It was the most solemn assembly I had ever

seen, and its impression upon my mind and memory was overwhelming

and abiding. But this was the commencement of months of work of a

similar description, and from this day we had a similar meeting

appointed for every evening. These were held in various rooms and

houses throughout the town. The evening meetings were usually held in

the Academy Hall. My whole time for about three months was given up

to this one work. Three times every day I was engaged in addressing

different assemblies in different parts of the town and of the

surrounding country, and in conversing with awakened and anxious

persons connected with these meetings. Such a scene in human society

as Bristol then displayed, I had never imagined. The whole town was

given up to this one work. The business of the world was for a time

suspended. The stores were in many instances closed, as if the whole

week were a Sabbath.”

As in the former case the work spread through all the churches.

Crowds came from surrounding towns to gaze upon the remarkable

spectacle the town afforded. Such revivals would now be impossible.

The busy manufacturing town of today would pay slight attention to

exhortations to which the ears that were accustomed to tales of

horrible disaster upon the ocean lent ready attention. Moreover,

the descendants of the old colonial stock are comparatively few in

number, and the new foreign element which forms the great majority of

the population is not to be moved by religious appeals as were those

whose lives were dominated by Puritan traditions.

The maritime element always furnished the most picturesque part of

the Bristol story. Until half a century ago the boys of the town had

the names of the famous ships and the exploits of the most famous

captains at the tongue’s end. The most noted captains were Simeon

Potter, John De Wolf and James De Wolf, of whom detailed accounts

will be given later. We idealized those seamen, especially Simeon

Potter. One sailor who was not a captain but a ship’s surgeon had had

a most remarkable experience. He was an inveterate smoker and his

inordinate use of the weed once saved his life. He was shipwrecked

upon a cannibal island in the Pacific ocean. His fellow sufferers

were all eaten by their captors. Because he was so flavored with

tobacco, he was not deemed fit to be eaten at once by the savage

epicures, and so lived to be rescued. He was also a most profane man.

One day after a long attack of fever, which had wasted him almost to

a skeleton, he ventured out for a walk. Unfortunately, he had not

noted the wind. He wore a long cloak and the wind was fair and heavy.

Having once started before it, he was not able to stop, but went on,

gathering speed and scattering profanity, until friendly arms at last

rescued him, entirely exhausted except as to his supply of oaths.

Depraved boys when caught smoking sometimes brought forward his case

in extenuation of their own crime.

Boyish sports before the introduction of baseball in the “early ’60s”

were largely nautical. As a matter of course every boy learned to

swim almost as soon as he learned to walk. Before his anxious mother

had really begun to worry about him he was diving from a bowsprit or

dropping from a yard arm. One man whom I know still regards a forced

swim of about half a mile which he took from an overturned skiff,

at the age of nine, as the most delightful episode of his career.

(He forgot to tell his mother about it until a considerable time,

i.e., the swimming season, had elapsed.) One of the amusements of

that olden time was unique. When we were about ten years old we were

wont, as soon as school was dismissed, to hasten down to the wharves,

“swarm” up the rigging of some of the vessels lying there, and having

reached the point where the shrouds stopped, to “shin up” the smooth

topmast and place our caps upon the caps of the masts. The one who

got his cap on a mast first was of course the best boy. Singularly

enough, I never remember to have proclaimed to my parents the proud

occasions when I was “it.” My great chum in those days was Benjamin

F. Tilley, who died quite recently, an Admiral in the United States

Navy and one of the best loved officers in the service. When he was

in Providence a few years ago, in command of the gunboat Newport, we

indulged largely in reminiscences of our boyhood, and among other

things “shinned” up those masts again. Very strangely Tilley could

not remember that he had ever proclaimed to his parents that he was

“it.” Modest always were the Bristol boys in the days of my youth.

Looking back upon these episodes with the added knowledge fifty

years have brought, I feel sure that if I had told my father of my

prowess, he would have said in his quiet way, “Perhaps you would

better not say anything to your mother about it,” and would have gone

away chuckling. He had been “it” himself. For we boys were simply

exemplifying the traditions of our race. We were only doing what our

forebears had done for generations.

In the earliest years of the town the names of streets in cities

across the ocean were more familiar to its inhabitants than were

those of the towns of the other Colonies. In 1690 fifteen of its

vessels were engaged in foreign commerce, and the number of such

vessels steadily increased until the Revolutionary War. When that

struggle broke out fifty hailed from the port. Add to this the

number of craft of every description engaged in the coasting trade

and one can easily imagine the crowded condition of the harbor. Ship

building was at one time a prominent industry. Statistics are not

readily accessible but we know that from 1830 to 1856 sixty vessels

were here built and rigged. After 1856 none of any importance were

constructed until, in 1863, the Herreshoffs began to send from their

yard the yachts that were to “show their heels” to all rivals. The

decline of commerce dates from the revival of the whale fishery. In

the earliest colonial days whales were captured along the coasts of

New England by means of boats sent out from the shore whenever one

of the great fishes came in sight. This was not infrequently. (It

was a whale cast up on the shore that saved Thorfinn Karlsefni from

starvation when the Norsemen made their second visit to Vinland.)

In the year 1825 the first whaler was fitted out for a cruise. The

venture was unusually successful and other ships were quickly placed

in commission. In 1837 the arrival of sixteen vessels “from a whaling

cruise” is recorded on the books of the Custom House. The most noted

of those whalers was the General Jackson, prize of the privateer

Yankee. Of her more anon. In 1837 the Bristol whaling fleet numbered

nineteen ships.

The bell which summoned the operatives of the first cotton mill to

their work really sounded the death knell of the shipping industry.

The man whose maritime ventures had been most profitable was quick

to recognize the fact. James De Wolf was the first of Bristolians

to transfer his capital from ships to factories. With the building

of mills agriculture began to decline though for more than half a

century onions and other vegetables continued to be exported to

the West India Islands. The erection of the great buildings of the

National Rubber Company completed the transformation of the town.

Very different is the place from the old Puritan town of the

seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; very different indeed from the

Bristol of sixty years ago. Sixty years ago the Puritan traditions

still dominated. This fact was especially evident on Sunday. That

day was observed with the strictness of the old Puritan Sabbath.

Worldly amusements were frowned upon. Every one was expected to go to

church in the morning, and a very large proportion of the population

attended a second religious service in the afternoon or evening. If

golf had been known no one would have ventured to play it. Social

ostracism would have followed any attempt at a match game of ball.

The only foreign element was the Irish. Very nearly all the Irish

had been born on “the old sod.” Today the Irish element is almost

the dominant one and the descendants of the first immigrants are as

thoroughly American in their ideals and sentiments as are those who

trace their ancestry to the Founders of 1680. Sixty years ago there

were perhaps a dozen names upon the tax lists that were not derived

from the British Isles. No foreign tongue except the Spanish of the

frequent Cuban visitors was heard upon the streets. Today the Italian

language is everywhere heard and Italian names fill the pages of

the directory. With the Italians have come also Canadian French and

Portuguese. Walking over the “Common” one day not long ago I passed

three groups of men and boys and heard from them not one word of

English. One group was Italian, another French, the third Portuguese.

In the olden days the business was transacted along the wharves on

Thames Street. That street was crowded with drays loaded with the

products of every land, while sailors of all nations lounged about

the water front. Today a sailor is a rare sight. The commerce has

vanished and not a vessel of any size hails from the port. Even

the pronunciation of the name of the street by the water has been

changed and most of the dwellers upon that thoroughfare do not know

that they are living upon the “Tems” street of our fathers. By day

even in summer the streets of the town are almost empty, except for

the visitors, and half the people are at work in the factories. But

there is immense life in the place yet. The population is increasing

by leaps and bounds and the wealth per capita is increasing in

the same way. When the great mill wheels cease to turn, a hurrying

throng of operatives crowds the highways. Although they are now for

the most part alien in speech and thought, their children, born in

the old colonial port, will grow up imbued with the spirit of the

place and will be Americans, Americans without the hyphen. The old

seafaring spirit still exists, though mightily transformed. No longer

do Bristol sails whiten far distant seas, no longer do the argosies

bring into the harbor the products of India, the silks of China and

Japan. From the port today go forth vessels of a very different type.

They lack the capacious holds of the olden days but they carry sails

larger than any the old captains ever dreamed of. Their business is

not to carry merchandise; they sail forth from Narragansett Bay to

lead the yachting fleets of the world.

PART I

SIMEON POTTER AND THE PRINCE CHARLES OF LORRAINE

1--SIMEON POTTER

Most famous among the names of the old sea captains of Bristol is

that of Simeon Potter. For almost half a century Potter was the most

conspicuous figure in the town in which he was born. He was also one

of the influential men in the Colony and State of Rhode Island for a

large part of that time.

Simeon Potter was born in Bristol in the year 1720. His father was

not a man of fortune and the boy’s education was almost entirely

neglected. His letters, even in advanced age, are those of an

illiterate man who, apparently, had never attempted to remedy the

deficiencies of his youth. Perhaps this is not to be wondered at. He

went forth from Bristol an humble sailor lad whose only possessions

were a sound body and an imperious will. After a comparatively few

years spent upon the ocean he returned to his native town with a

purse overflowing with riches, a man to be looked up to for the rest

of his life.

His wealth was acquired in “privateering,” and tales of his captures

upon the sea, and especially of his wild marauding descents upon

foreign coasts, were familiar as household words to the ears of the

Bristolians of three-quarters of a century ago. Those tales lost

nothing in the telling and in them Potter came to be endowed with

attributes he never possessed. This was especially the case with his

stature. Like Charlemagne he continued to grow taller with each fifty

years after his death. He came in time to be pictured as a giant in

size and strength, a man whose success was largely due to the might

of his arm, and not to any especial mental ability. It was not until

the narrative which follows had been brought to light that we were

able to see him as he really was, a slight man. Possibly his great

wealth rather than an overpowering personality may have been the

cause of his large influence. His fortune was estimated at a quarter

of a million dollars, which was an enormous sum for those days.

He plunged gladly into the conflicts of the turbulent age, and by

a happy chance came forth from them all without serious injury.

When wars ceased his restless energy forced him into constant

litigations; he seemed never to be happy unless he had some legal

contest on his hands. His intense pride had much to do with this.

Like many self-made men he could brook no opposition; he exacted

from his townsmen the deference invariably rendered by seamen to the

quarter-deck, and never forgot that his success was due to his own

unaided efforts. Very soon after the Prince Charles had returned from

the raid upon Oyapoc it was visited by some officers from a British

man-of-war then lying in the harbor of Newport. They were greatly

pleased with the trim, man-o’-war appearance of the privateer and

expressed their approbation of its commander. Unfortunately they did

so with a patronizing condescension that was exceedingly galling to

the young captain. When at last one of them ventured to ask “why

he did not apply to his Majesty for a commission as the king would

undoubtedly give him a larger and better ship” he could no longer

contain himself. “When I wish for a better ship I will not ask his

Majesty for one, I will build one myself,” he said, and, turning on

his heel, left the Englishman wondering what he could have said that

seemed so offensive.

Potter left the sea and came back to Bristol to live just after the

town had been transferred from Massachusetts to Rhode Island. He

was first chosen to represent the town in the General Assembly in

1752, and from that time until the Revolution, when he had become an

Assistant, an office corresponding to that of a Senator today, his

voice was continually heard in the colonial councils. After the war

had really begun his zeal (though not his pugnacity) seems to have

waned and he ceased to take an active part in the affairs of either

town or State. Possibly the larger ability, the increasing influence

and the more striking personality of his townsman, Governor William

Bradford, may have had something to do with Potter’s retirement from

participation in public life.

However that may be, when the contest that was to result in the

independence of the United Colonies began he plunged into it with

immense delight. These lines in his own handwriting, preserved to

the present day by a descendant of one of his sisters (he left no

children), show clearly his mental attitude at that time:

I love with all my heart

The independent part.

To obey the Parliament

My conscience wont consent.

I never can abide

To fight on England’s side.

I pray that God may bless

The great and Grand Congress.

This is my mind and heart

Though none should take my part

The man thats called a Tory

To plague is all my glory.

How righteous is the cause

To keep the Congress laws!

To fight against the King

Bright Liberty will bring.

Lord North and England’s King

I hope that they will swing.

Of this opinion I

Resolve to live and die

His participation in the destruction of the Gaspee has been already

described. When the office of Major-General of the Rhode Island

Colonial Forces was created his zeal and energy had so impressed his

fellow members of the General Assembly that he was chosen to fill it.

His tenure of office must have been brief. In 1776 he had been chosen

Assistant (Assistants were elected by the vote of all the freemen of

the Colony), but he did not present himself at many meetings of the

Assembly. In fact so neglectful was he of his duties that a vote was

passed requesting his reasons for absenting himself, and demanding

his attendance at the next session. Undoubtedly the increased taxes

had something to do with it. He was the wealthiest citizen of Bristol

and one of the richest men in the Colony, and the possession of money

was his chief delight. He could not bear to see it taken away from

him even though the independence of the Colonies might thereby be

assured. (One day a young nephew was talking with him and lamenting

his apparent lack of success. “How, Captain Potter,” said he, “shall

I go to work to make money?” “Make money,” said Potter, “make money!

I would plow the ocean into pea porridge to make money.”)

In 1777 his name appears for the last time in the Colonial Records.

At the Town Meeting held in Bristol in May of that year “Colonel

Potter was chosen Moderator, but after the usual officers were

elected he withdrew and refused to serve any longer.” A tax

collector’s account was then presented showing that he had neglected

to pay all his taxes. Three years later, May 10, 1780, it was voted

in Town Meeting “That the Assessors make enquiry and make report to

the town at the adjournment of the meeting, what part of Colonel

Potter’s taxes remain unpaid, and that Mr. Smith, the collector, be

desired to apply to the Assessors of the town of Swansey to know

at what time said Potter began to pay taxes in said town, and what

part of his personal estate has been rated from time to time in

said town.” Although he still retained his household in Bristol he

had taken up his residence in Swansey, where the rate of taxation

was considerably less than that of Bristol. In that Massachusetts

town he continued, nominally, to reside for the rest of his life.

Notwithstanding his residence in another State he still continued

a member of Saint Michael’s Church. In 1792 a vote of the Vestry

was passed, thanking him for painting the church edifice, and for

other benefactions, and in 1799 he presented a bell (with a French

inscription) to the parish. His name headed the list of vestrymen

from 1793 until his death. He died, at the age of eighty-six,

February 20, 1806, leaving no children. His estate was by will

divided among his nine sisters and their descendants. All the

beneficiaries did not fare alike. He had his favorites and his

strong prejudices. As is almost always the case popular estimate had

exaggerated the value of his property. Instead of a quarter of a

million, less than half that amount was divided among his heirs. The

inventory showed that he had made a great many “wildcat” investments.

From his house on Thames Street the old captain was borne to his last

resting place in the burying-ground upon the Common. It was the most

impressive funeral the town had witnessed. All the people turned out

to see the long procession, and to take part in it. The privateering

exploits of his early life were again retold, the innumerable legal

battles of his later days were again recounted. Full of strife and

tumult were the centuries in which his life had been passed, stormy

and passionate his own career had been. He was perhaps the last, he

was certainly the most successful, of the old sea captains who, as

English subjects, had sailed forth from Narragansett Bay to make war

as privateersmen upon the foes of Great Britain. But among those

who followed his corpse to its final resting place were men who in

less than a decade were to sail out from Bristol harbor in a little

private armed vessel whose success as a privateer was to surpass

his wildest imaginings, a vessel that was to collect from English

merchants a tribute many times exceeding that which he had exacted

from the enemies of England. The story of that vessel will be told in

the last chapter of this book.

Potter was most noted for his raid upon the coast of French Guiana

of which an account follows. He was captain of a typical American

privateer when Narragansett Bay was noted throughout the Colonies as

a nursery of privateersmen. Rhode Island furnished more privately

armed vessels for the service of the mother country during the

eighteenth century than did any other American Colony. From the year

1700 to the Revolution at least one hundred and eighty such ships

sailed out from its ports. They were long and narrow, crowded with

seamen for their more speedy handling, and manœuvered with a skill

that placed the slower ships of the French and Spaniards entirely at

their mercy. They carried long guns which enabled them to disable

their adversaries at a distance, thus preventing their enemies from

inflicting any damage in return. Because built for speed they were

of light construction. A broadside from a man-of-war would have gone

crashing through their hulls and sent them at once to the bottom of

the sea, but the seamanship of their captains always kept them out of

reach of such a broadside. Their greatest danger was from the gales

that drove them upon a rocky coast. Then no skill of their captains

could save them. Their slight frames were quickly broken to pieces,

sometimes with the loss of every man on board. The Prince Charles of

Lorraine was wrecked upon the rocks of Seaconnet Point not long after

the voyage herein described.

The kind of warfare in which they engaged would not now be regarded

as honorable, yet it was then approved by all nations. Not only did

they seek prizes upon the ocean; a descent upon the coast of the

enemy, a plundering of a rich town especially if it was undefended,

was an exploit from which they derived the liveliest satisfaction.

They preferred that kind of an expedition, for, as was always the

case with private armed ships, their aim was simply to acquire

wealth for themselves, not to inflict unprofitable damage upon their

adversaries. Privateering was only a species of legalized piracy as

far as these raids were concerned. Happily the ruthless bloodshed

and the outrages which characterized the raids of the buccaneers

and other pirates were never charged against sailors on the legally

commissioned private armed ships. Their trade was brutal but they

carried it on with the approbation of their fellow men because it was

a custom that had prevailed from time immemorial.

Very rarely have records of their raids been preserved, more rarely

still accounts written by their victims. The one which follows was

discovered and made public some three-quarters of a century ago by

Bishop Kip of California. At the sale of a famous library in England

he purchased a set of the “Letters of Jesuit Missionaries from

1650-1750,” bound in fifty or more volumes. In 1875 he published a

volume containing translations of the letters relating especially to

American history. From this volume, which has long been out of print,

the following account is taken.

The owners of the Prince Charles of Lorraine were Sueton Grant,

Peleg Brown and Nathaniel Coddington, Jr., of Newport. Simeon Potter

of Bristol was her captain, and Daniel Brown of Newport was her

lieutenant. Among the Bristol men on the privateer were Mark Anthony

De Wolf (founder of the family destined to become most famous in

the history of the town), clerk; Benjamin Munro, master; Michael

Phillips, pilot; William Kipp and Jeffrey Potter, the last being

probably an Indian slave of Potter. Upon her return from her cruise

Captain Potter was summoned before an admiralty court, having been

accused of certain high handed, not to say illegal proceedings. Among

other things he was charged with having fired upon a Dutch vessel

while his ship was lying at anchor in Surinam, Dutch Guiana. He

proved to the satisfaction of the court that he had fired upon the

Dutch ship at the request of the Captain of the Port, in order to

“bring her to,” his own ship being between the vessel and the fort at

the time and so preventing the fire of the fort. The admiralty judge

decided that Potter had not been guilty of the offences charged,

and that he had shown zeal and enterprise worthy of commendation

and imitation. The trial proceedings combined with Father Fauque’s

narrative give a complete history of the cruise.

The privateer sailed from Newport September 8, 1744, and arrived at

“Wiopock, twelve leagues to the windward of Cyan,” October 28. Up

to that time she had taken no prizes. Upon his arrival Potter took

thirty-two men and made a descent upon the town. They reached it

at midnight and were at once fired upon by its garrison, Captain

Potter receiving a bullet in his left arm. Of course they took the

fort; garrisons in the tropics were never equal to privateersmen

as fighters. They took some twenty prisoners (the other defenders

having promptly fled), six cannon and from sixty to seventy small

arms. They remained at Wiapock twelve days while they sacked the

town, taking from it everything of value. Some of the company were

sent up the river to plunder plantations. All things taken were

carried to Barbadoes and there condemned as French property, with

the exception of some slaves detained at Surinam and some personal

property which Potter sold at a “vandue” on his ship. Having stripped

Wiapock (the name of the place was Oyapoc but American and English

captains were never strong on spelling) to their hearts’ content,

they sailed to “Cyann” (Cayenne) and dropped anchor at that place

November 11. There they tarried four or five days, during which they

sent plundering expeditions up the river. One of these came to grief

on a shoal. The twelve men who manned the boat were attacked by one

hundred and thirty soldiers, three of them were killed, four were

wounded and the others carried to Cyann fort as prisoners. Thereupon

Potter sent a flag of truce to propose an exchange of prisoners. The

exchange was arranged and among those returned by the Americans was

“a priest,” Father Fauque. Then the Prince Charles sailed to Surinam

well satisfied with what had been accomplished. At Surinam Captain

Potter gave an entertainment to two English merchants and some

masters of ships that were at anchor in the port. Seamen of that day

were not always total abstainers and after the banquet the “vandue”

was had of which mention has already been made. The prices obtained

for the plunder were doubtless satisfactory for the most part to the

sellers, but not in all cases. The goods sold “to the value of thirty

or forty pieces of eight.” They belonged to the “company” and the

captain purchased many of them on his own account thereby furnishing

cause for the suit brought against him on his return to Rhode Island,

from which suit he came out triumphant. Immediately after the sale

the seamen demanded their share of the proceeds. Captain Potter told

them they were still in debt to the owners for advances made and as

his arguments were enforced by a drawn sword they were admitted to be

valid.

In his testimony before the admiralty court the Indian, Jeffrey

Potter, was more specific as to the plunder secured at Wiapock than

any other witness. He testified that they took seven Indians and

three negroes, twenty large spoons or ladles, nine large ladles, one

gold and one silver hilted sword, one gold and one silver watch,

two bags of money, quantity uncertain; chests and trunks of goods,

etc., gold rings, buckles and buttons, silver candlesticks, church

plate both gold and silver, swords, four cannon, sixty small arms,

ammunition, provisions, etc. But the wealth secured on this raid

could not have been very great. French Guiana at the present time

has a population of only 30,000, of whom 12,500 live at Cayenne. The

number of people then living at Oyapoc was much smaller than the

population of today. The town burned by the marauding expedition sent

up the river contained not more than seventy houses, and anyone

who has visited the countries lying along the north coast of South

America knows that “the wealth of the tropics” is a wild figure of

speech as far as the house furnishings are concerned.

Equally wild are some of the accounts of the raid. One writer states

that “there can be no doubt that in this cruise Captain Potter

and his command invaded and desolated 1500 miles of the enemy’s

territory; that on the Spanish Main in his march he visited churches

and dwellings, and brought from the field of his exploits large

amounts of booty.” This writer was but repeating the tale as it had

been told him in his childhood. He had never deemed it necessary to

verify it. If he had considered the matter he would have realized

that French Guiana is not a part of the Spanish Main at all, and a

glance at the map would have shown him that between Cayenne and the

mouth of the Orinoco River, where technically the “Spanish Main”

begins, lie the hundreds of miles of coastline of Dutch and British

Guiana. No privateer of the size of the Prince Charles could possibly

have carried provisions and water sufficient for such a cruise if the

expedition had been made in the vessel itself, and no ship’s crew of

the size of that which Potter commanded could, by any stretch of the

imagination, have made such a journey overland. Moreover no mention

whatever of the Spanish Main, or of booty except that obtained at

Cyann and Wiapock, is to be found in the records of the admiralty

court. The statement affords an excellent illustration of the

astounding growth of popular traditions.

2--LETTER OF FATHER FAUQUE

LETTER _of Father Fauque, Missionary of the Society of

Jesus, to Father ----, of the same Society, containing an Account of

the Capture of Fort d’Oyapoc by an English pirate_.[7]

_At_ CAYENNE, _the 22d of December, 1744_.

MY REVEREND FATHER,--The peace of our Lord be with you! I

will make you a partaker of the greatest happiness I have experienced

in my life, by informing you of the opportunity I had of suffering

something for the glory of God.

I returned to Oyapoc on the 25th of October last. Some days

afterwards, I received at my house Father d’Autilhac, who had

returned from his mission to Ouanari, and Father d’Huberlant, who

is settled at the confluence of the rivers Oyapoc and Camoppi,

where he had formed a new mission. Thus we found ourselves, three

missionaries, together; and we were enjoying the pleasure of a

reunion, so rare in these countries, when divine Providence, to try

us, permitted the occurrence of one of those wholly unexpected events

which in one day destroyed the fruit of many years’ labor. I will

relate it, with all the attending circumstances.

Scarcely had war been declared between France and England, when the

English were sent from North America to cruise among the islands to

the leeward of Cayenne. They determined to touch there, in the hope

of capturing some vessel, pillaging some dwellings, and above all,

of obtaining some news of the “Senau,” which was lost not long since

near the river Maroni. Having gone too far south, and the water

giving out, they approached Oyapoc to obtain some. We should have

been naturally informed of it, either by the Indians, who go out

frequently to hunt or fish, or by the guard, which our commander had

prudently posted upon a mountain at the mouth of the river, whence

they could see to the distance of three or four leagues. But, on the

one hand, the Aroüas Indians, who came from Mayacorè to Ouanari,

having been seized by the English, gave them information of the

little colony of Oyapoc, of which they were ignorant, and on which

they had no designs when leaving their own country. On the other

hand, the sentinels who were on guard, and who should have been our

security, themselves acted as guides to those who surprised us.

Thus every thing united to cause us to fall into the hands of these

pirates.[8]

Their chief was Captain Simeon Potter, a native of New England,

fitted out to cruise with a commission from Williems Guéene,

Governor of Rodelan,[9] and commanding the vessel “Prince Charles of

Lorraine,” of ten cannon, twelve swivel-guns, and a crew of sixty-two

men. They cast anchor on the 6th of November, and began taking in

water at the mountain d’Argent. (This is the name of the country on

the inner side of the bay formed by the river d’Oyapoc.) On the 7th,

their long-boat, returning to the ship, saw a canoe of Indians, which

was coming from Cape Orange. (This is the cape which forms the other

point of the bay.) The English pursued them, frightened them by a

discharge of their gun, seized them, and carried them on shipboard.

The next day, having seen a fire during the night on another

mountain, which is called Mount Lucas, they sent and seized two young

men who were placed there as sentinels. They might have had time to

come and inform us; but one of them, a traitor to his country, did

not wish to do so.

After having in this way learned the situation, the force, and

generally everything which related to the post of Oyapoc, they

determined to surprise it. They attempted the enterprise in the

night, between the 9th and 10th. But, fearing lest daylight might

overtake them before their arrival, they turned back, and kept

themselves concealed during all the day of the 10th. The following

night they took their measures better. They arrived a little after

the setting of the moon, and, guided by the two young Frenchmen, they

landed about a hundred yards from the fort of Oyapoc.

The sentinel at first took them for Indians or negroes, who came and

went at all hours during the night. He challenged them, but they made

no reply, and he then at once concluded they were enemies. Every one

woke up in surprise; but the English were within the place before

any one had time to collect his thoughts. For myself, who was living

outside the fort, and was roused by the first cry of the sentinel,

having opened my door, I saw them file by in great haste; and, not

being myself perceived, I immediately ran to awaken our Fathers.

So unexpected a surprise in the middle of a dark night, the weakness

of the post, the few soldiers there to defend it (for there were not

at that time more than ten or twelve men), the frightful shouts of a

multitude which we supposed, as was natural, more numerous than it

really was, the vivid and terrible fire which they kept up with their

guns and pistols on entering the place,--all these things induced

each one, by a first impulse of which he was not himself master, to

take to flight, and conceal himself in the woods which surrounded us.

Our commander, however, fired and wounded in the left arm the English

captain, a young man about thirty years of age. What is singular, the

captain was the only one wounded on either side.

Our two missionaries, however, who had no spiritual charge at this

post, and one of whom, through his zeal and friendship, wished to

remain at my place, pressed by my solicitations, took refuge in the

depths of the forest, with some Indians of their attendants and all

our servants. For myself, I remained in my house, which was distant

from the fort about a hundred yards, having resolved to go first to

the church to consume the consecrated wafer, and afterwards to carry

spiritual aid to the French, supposing that some of them had been

wounded there; as I thought, certainly not without reason, after

having heard so much firing of guns, that our people had made some

resistance.

I went out, therefore, to execute the first of these projects; when

a negro servant, who, through goodness of heart and fidelity (rare

qualities among the slaves), had remained with me, represented to me

that I would certainly be discovered, and they would not fail to fire

at me in the first heat of the contest. I yielded to these reasons,

and, as I only remained to render to my flock all the services

demanded by my ministry, I felt scruples at uselessly exposing

myself, and determined to wait until break of day to show myself.

You can easily imagine, my Reverend Father, what a variety of

emotions agitated me during the remainder of that night. The air

ceaselessly resounded with cries and shouts and yells, and with

the discharge of guns and pistols. Presently I heard the doors

and windows of the houses opened, and the furniture overthrown

with a great crash; and, as I was sufficiently near to distinguish

perfectly the noise they made in the church, I was suddenly seized

with an inward horror in the fear lest the Holy Sacrament might

be profaned. I would have given a thousand lives to prevent this

sacrilege; but there was not time. Nevertheless, to hinder it by the

only way which remained to me, I inwardly addressed myself to Jesus

Christ, and earnestly prayed Him to guard His adorable Sacrament

from the profanation which I feared. What took place was in a way so

surprising that it may reasonably be regarded as a miracle.

During all this tumult, my negro, who was perfectly aware of the

danger we were running, and who had not the same reason with myself

for this voluntary exposure, frequently proposed to me to take to

flight. But I was unable to do so. I knew too well the obligations

of my office; and I could only wait for the moment when it would be

in my power to go to the fort, and see in what state were the French

soldiers, the greater part of whom I supposed to be either dead or

wounded. I said, therefore, to the slave that on this occasion he was

his own master; that I could not force him to remain with me; but

that, nevertheless, I should be pleased if he did not abandon me. I

added that, if he had any grievous sin on his conscience, it would

be best for him to confess it, to be prepared for any contingency,

since he was not certain but what they might take away his life. This

conversation made an impression on him, so that he recovered courage

and remained firm.

As soon as day dawned, I ran to the church, creeping through the

underwood; and, although they had sentinels and marauders on every

side, I had the good fortune not to be seen. As I entered the

sacristy, which I found open, tears filled my eyes when I saw the

cupboard for the vestments and linen, where also I kept the chalice

and the sacred vessels, broken open and shattered, and many of the

vestments scattered here and there. I went into the choir of the

church, where I saw the altar half uncovered, and the cloths thrown

together in a heap. I examined the tabernacle, and found they had not

noticed a little piece of cotton, which I was accustomed to place

at the opening of the lock to prevent the _ravers_ from getting

into it. (This is an insect very common in the islands, which only

comes out at night, and is very similar to the gadfly.) I supposed

that the door was also broken open; but, placing my hand upon it, I

found that it had not been touched. Overcome with wonder and joy and

thankfulness, I took the key which these heretics had had under their

hands. I opened it with reverence, and partook of the Sacrament,

very uncertain whether I should ever again have that blessing; for

what has not a man of my profession to fear from pirates, and these

pirates, too, being English?

After I had thus received the Sacrament, I fell on my knees to

return thanks; and I told my negro to go in the mean while into my

chamber, which was near at hand. He went there; but, in returning,

was seen and arrested by a sailor. The slave begged for mercy, and

the Englishman did not do him any harm. I showed myself then at the

door of the sacristy, and immediately saw that I was aimed at. It was

necessary, therefore, to surrender; so I came forward, and we took

together the way to the fort. When we entered the place, I saw every

face expressing the greatest joy, each one congratulating himself

that they had captured a priest.

The first one who approached me was the captain himself. He was a man

small in stature, and not in any respect differing from the others

in dress. He had his left arm in a sling, a sabre in his right hand,

and two pistols in his belt. As he was acquainted with some words of

French, he told me “that I was very welcome; that I had nothing to

fear, as no one would attempt my life.”

In the mean while, M. de Lage de la Landerie, Writer of the king,

and our storekeeper, having appeared, I asked him in what condition

were our people, and if many of them were killed or wounded. He

answered me that they were not; that of our soldiers he had seen only

the sergeant and one sentinel, and that on neither side was any one

wounded but the English captain alone, in whose power we now were. I

was delighted to learn that our commander, the officers, and their

soldiers, had sufficient time to escape; and as by this fact the

reasons which had induced me to remain no longer existed, and as my

personal ministry was not necessary, I should have much preferred

being at liberty, and, could I have done so, would have retreated.

But I could not longer dream of that; and at that very moment two of

our soldiers, who were found concealed, were seized, and increased

the number of our prisoners.

At length dinner-time came. I was invited, but I certainly had no

inclination to eat. I knew that our soldiers and the two missionary

Fathers were in the depth of the forest, without clothes, food, or

aid. I had no news of them, nor was I able to procure any. This

reflection overwhelmed me; it was necessary, however, to accept their

repeated invitations, which seemed to me to be sincere.

Scarcely had the meal commenced, when I saw arriving the first

plunder they had made at my house. It was natural that I should be

moved. Indeed, I showed it; so that the captain said to me, as an

excuse for himself, that the King of France had first declared war

against the King of England, and that in consequence of it the French

had already taken, pillaged, and burned an English post named Campo,

near Cape Breton, and that several persons, including children, had

been smothered in the flames.

I answered him that, without wishing to enter into the detail of the

affairs of Europe, our respective kings being to-day at war, I did

not take it amiss; but was only surprised that he should have come

to attack Oyapoc, which was not worth the trouble.[11] He replied

that he himself exceedingly regretted having come here, as this delay

might cause him to miss two merchant vessels, richly loaded, which

were on the point of sailing from the harbor of Cayenne. I then said

to him that, since he saw for himself how inconsiderable was this

post, and that he had scarcely any thing to gain from it, I prayed

him to accept a reasonable ransom, for my church, myself, my negro,

and every thing belonging to me. This proposition was reasonable,

but was, nevertheless, rejected. He wished that I should treat with

him for the fort and all its dependencies. But I bade him observe

that this was not a fit proposition to make to a simple priest; that,

besides, the Court of France had so little regard for the post that

recent news from Paris had apprised us that it would be abandoned

as soon as practicable. “Well,” said he, in a spiteful way, “since

you do not wish to entertain my proposition, we must continue our

depredations, and make reprisals for all that the French have done

against us.”

They continued, therefore, to transport from our houses furniture,

clothes, provisions, all with a disorder and confusion that was

remarkable. What gave me the deepest pain was to see the sacred

vessels[12] in these profane and sacrilegious hands. I collected

myself for a moment, and, awakening all my zeal, I told them what

reason and faith and religion inspired me to say in the most forcible

manner. With words of persuasion I mingled motives of fear for so

criminal a profanation. The example of Belshazzar was not forgotten;

and I am able to say to you with truth, my Reverend Father, that I

saw many moved, and disposed to return these articles to me; but

cupidity and avarice prevailed, and on the same day all the silver

was packed up and carried aboard the vessel.[13]

The captain, more susceptible of feeling than all the others, as he

had always seemed to me, told me that he would willingly yield to me

what he was able to return, but that he had no control over the will

of the others; that all the crew having part in the booty, he was

not able, as captain, to dispose of any but his own share; but that

he would do all that was in his power to induce the others to agree

to what I proposed. This was to pay them at Cayenne, or at Surinam

(a Dutch colony, which was not far distant, and where, they told me,

they wished to go), or even in Europe by bills of exchange, for the

value of the silver in the sacred vessels. But he was not able to

obtain any thing.

Some time afterwards, the first lieutenant asked me, through an

interpreter, “what induced me to surrender myself to them?” I replied

to him, “that the persuasion I was under that some of our soldiers

had been wounded had determined me to remain for their relief.” “And

did you not fear being killed?” he added. “Yes, without doubt,” I

said; “but the fear of death is not capable of stopping a minister of

Jesus Christ, when he should discharge his duty. Every true Christian

is obliged to sacrifice his life rather than commit a sin; and I

should have thought that I was guilty of a very great one, if, having

charge of souls in my parish, I had entirely abandoned them in their

peril. You know, indeed,” I continued, “you Protestant people, who

pride yourselves so much on reading the Scriptures, that it is only

the hireling shepherd who flees before the wolf when he attacks the

sheep.” At this discourse they looked at one another, and seemed

to me to be entirely astonished. This lesson is, without doubt,

something a little different from that of their pretended Reformation.

For myself, I was all the while uncertain with regard to my own

fate, and I saw that I had every thing to fear from such people. I

addressed myself, therefore, to the holy guardian angels, and I began

a _Novena_[14] in their honor, not doubting but they would cause

something to turn to my advantage. I prayed them to assist me in

this difficult emergency in which I found myself; and I should say

here, to give a higher sanction to this devotion, so well known and

so established in the usage of the Church, what I have recognized

in my own particular case, that I have received each day the signal

blessings of God, through the intercession of these heavenly spirits.

However, as soon as night approached,--that is to say, towards six

o’clock, for that is the time at which the sun sets here during the

whole year,--the English drum commenced beating. They assembled

on the Place, and posted their sentinels on all sides. That being

done, the rest of the crew, as long as the night lasted, did not

cease eating and drinking. For myself, I was constantly visited in

my hammock, since they feared, without doubt, that I would try to

escape. In this way they were mistaken; for two reasons detained

me. The first was, that I had given them my parole, by which I had

again constituted myself their prisoner, and I could not go out of

their hands except by means of exchange or ransom. The second was,

that, as long as I remained with them, I had some slight hope that

I might recover the sacred vessels, or at least the vestments and

other furniture of my church. As soon as it was day, the pillage

recommenced, with the same confusion and the same disorder as the

day before. Each carried to the fort whatever happened to fall into

his hands, and threw it down in a pile. One arrived wearing an old

cassock; another in a woman’s petticoat; a third with the crown of

a bonnet on his head. It was the same with those who guarded the

booty. They searched in the heap of clothes, and when they found any

thing which suited their fancy,--as a peruke, a laced _chapeau_,

or a dress,--they immediately put it on, and made three or four

turns through the room, with great satisfaction, after which they

resumed their fantastical rags. They were like a band of monkeys or

of savages, who had never been away from the depths of the forest.

A parasol or a mirror, the smallest article of furniture a little

showy, excited their admiration. This did not surprise me, when I

learned that they had scarcely any communication with Europe, and

that Rodelan was a kind of little republic, which did not pay any

tribute to the King of England, which elected its own governor every

year, and which had not even any silver money, but only notes for

daily commerce; for this is the impression I gained from all they

told me.[15]

In the evening, the lieutenant informed himself of every thing which

related to the dwellings of the French along the river,--how many

there were of them, at what distances they were, how many inhabitants

each had, &c. Afterwards, he took with him ten men, and one of the

young Frenchmen who had already served as guide to surprise us; and,

after having made all the necessary preparations, they set out, and

went up the river. But they found nothing, or very few articles,

because the colonists, having been warned by our fugitives, had

placed all their effects in concealment, and particularly their

negroes, who, more than any thing else, excited the cupidity of the

English. Finding themselves thus disappointed in their hopes, they

spent their anger on the buildings, which they burned, without,

however, injuring the plantations. This, however, caused us to

suspect that they had some intentions of returning.

As to those of us who were in the fort, we spent this night very

much like the preceding,--the same agitations, the same excesses on

the part of our enemies, and the same disquietude on our part. The

second lieutenant, who was left in command, did not lose sight of

me, fearing, without doubt, that I wished to profit by the absence

of the captain and the first lieutenant to make my escape. I had a

great deal of difficulty in reassuring them on this point, and could

not convince them. People of this kind, accustomed to judge others

by themselves, are not able to imagine that an honorable man, that a

priest, was able and obliged to keep his parole in such a case.

When the day dawned, he seemed a little less uneasy on my account.

Towards eight o’clock, they all placed themselves at table; and,

after a miserable repast, one of them attempted to enter into a

controversy with me. He put many questions to me about Confession,

about the worship which we gave to the Cross, to images, &c. “Do you

confess your parishioners?” he presently asked me.

“Yes,” I replied, “whenever they come to me; but they do not do so as

often as they should, or as I could wish them, for the zeal I have

for the salvation of their souls.”

“And do you really think,” he added, “that their sins are remitted as

soon as they have declared them to you?”

“No, assuredly,” I said to him; “a mere confession is not sufficient

to produce this. It is necessary that it should be accompanied by a

true sorrow for the past and a sincere resolution for the future,

without which auricular Confession will have no efficacy to blot out

sins.”

“And as to the images and the Cross,” he replied, “do you think that

the prayer would be equally efficacious without this, which is the

external of religion?”

“The prayer is good, without doubt,” I answered him; “but permit me

to ask you, with regard to yourself, why in families do they preserve

the portraits of a father, a mother, or their ancestors? Is it not

principally to awaken their own remembrances in thinking of the

benefits they have received from them, and to animate them to follow

their good examples? For it is not exactly the picture which they

honor, but it brings back to them all which it represents. In the

same manner, you need not imagine that we Roman Catholics adore the

wood or the brass; but we use it to nourish, so to say, our devotion.

For how could a reasonable being remain unaffected while beholding

the figure of a God dying on the Cross for His love to us? What

effect may not be produced on the soul and the heart by the image of

a martyr who is giving his life for Jesus Christ?”

“Oh, I do not understand it so,” said the Englishman to me; and

I well knew from his manner that their ministers deceive them in

telling them that the Papists, as they call us, superstitiously

reverence and adore the Cross and the images, valuing them for

themselves.[16]

I was anxiously waiting for the return of those who had been to visit

the dwellings, when they came to me to say that it was necessary

I should go on board the ship, as Captain Potter wished to see me

and speak with me. I had done every thing in my power by urging,

soliciting, and representing, as earnestly as I was able, all the

reasons I had for not embarking so soon. But I could gain nothing,

and I was obliged to obey in spite of myself. The commander of the

party on shore, who, in the absence of the others, was the second

lieutenant, when I came to speak to him on this point, taking hold of

his tongue with one hand, and with the other making a semblance of

piercing or cutting it, gave me to understand that, if I said any

more, I might expect bad treatment. I had reason to think that he was

annoyed at the strong and pathetic address I had made with regard to

the profanation of the ornaments of the church and the sacred vessels.

We embarked, therefore, towards three o’clock in the afternoon, in a

canoe; and, although the ship was not much more than three leagues

distant (the captain having now caused it to enter the river), we

nevertheless only reached it in about eight hours, in consequence

of the remissness of the rowers, who were constantly drinking. When

at a great distance I saw the hull of the vessel by the light of

the moon, it seemed to me to be entirely out of the water. It had,

indeed, run aground on the shore, and had only a depth of three feet

of water. This was the occasion of great alarm to me; for I imagined

that this might be the fault of my negro, whom they had selected as

one of the pilots, and I thought that the captain had sent to seek me

to make me bear the penalty which my slave merited, or at least that

I should perish with the others in case the ship should be wrecked.

What confirmed me for some time in this sad supposition was the

little degree of welcome I received; but I have since been informed

that there was no design in this, and that the cold reception which

alarmed me was caused by the fact that they were all busy in working

the vessel, to relieve themselves as soon as possible from the

uncomfortable position in which they were.

As soon as our canoe had reached the ship, I saw descending and

coming to me a young man, who murdered the French language in some

little attempt to speak it, and who took my hand, kissed it, and

informed me that he was an Irishman and a Roman Catholic. He even

made the sign of the Cross, which he did indifferently well; and he

added that, in right of his office as second gunner, he had a berth

which he wished to give me, and that, if any one should take it into

his head to show me the least disrespect, he well knew how to avenge

it. This introduction, though shared in by a man who seemed to be

very drunk, did not fail to tranquillize me somewhat. He gave me his

hand, to aid me in climbing up to the deck by means of the ropes.

Scarcely had I mounted thither when I encountered my negro. I asked

him at once why he caused the ship to run aground, and was reassured

when he told me that it was the fault of the captain, who was

obstinate in holding his course in the middle of the river, although

he had repeatedly told him that the channel ran near the shore. At

the same time the captain appeared on the quarter-deck, and told

me, with great coldness, to go down into the cabin, after which he

continued to devote himself to working the vessel.

My Irishman, however, did not leave me, but, sitting at the door,

renewed his protestations of good-will, assuring me always that he

was a Roman Catholic; that he wished to confess before I left the

ship; that he had formerly received the Sacrament, &c. And, as in

all his conversation, he constantly mingled invectives against the

English nation, they made him leave me, forbidding him to speak with

me for the future, under penalty of chastisement. He received this

with a very bad grace; swearing, blustering, and protesting that he

would speak with me in spite of them.

However, he went away; and scarcely had he gone when another came,

as drunk as the first, and, like him, too, an Irishman. He was the

surgeon, who at first addressed me with some Latin words,--_Pater,

misereor_. I attempted to reply to him in Latin; but I soon found

that these words constituted the whole of his knowledge of the

language; and, as he was no better acquainted with French, we could

hold no conversation together.

In the mean while it grew late, and I felt sleepiness pressing on

me, having scarcely closed my eyes during the preceding nights. I

did not know where to go to obtain a little repose. The ship was so

careened over that it was necessary to be continually fastened to

prevent one’s self rolling. I wanted to lie down in one of the three

berths; but I did not dare, for fear some one would immediately force

me to leave it. The captain saw my embarrassment, and, touched with

the miserable figure we made, sitting on the chests,--the storekeeper

and myself,--he told us we could lodge in the berth at the bottom

of the cabin. He even added, politely, that he regretted not being

able to give one to each, but his ship was too small to do so. I very

willingly accepted his offer, and we arranged for ourselves as well

as we could on a pile of rags.

Notwithstanding all the disquietudes of my situation, I was drowsy

from weariness, and during the night slept half the time. Being half

the time awake, I perceived that the vessel had begun moving. It

insensibly floated; and, to prevent it from afterwards settling down

again, they drove two yard-arms into the mud, one on each side, which

should hold the hull of the vessel in equilibrium.

As soon as day came, and it was necessary to take some nourishment,

I had a new source of torment, for the water was so offensive that I

was not able even to taste it. The Indians and negroes, who certainly

are not at all fastidious, preferred to drink the water of the

river, however muddy and brackish it may be. I inquired, therefore,

of the captain why he did not procure other water, since very near

this was a spring, to which I was accustomed to send to procure the

water I used at the fort. He made no reply, thinking, perhaps, that

I wished to lead him into some ambush. But, after having thoroughly

questioned the French, the negroes, and the Indians, whom he had

taken prisoners, he determined to send the long-boat to land, with my

slave. It made many trips during that and the following days; so that

we all had the pleasure of having good water, although many scarcely

used it, preferring the wine and rum which they had on the deck at

will.

I ought, however, to say in commendation of the captain that he was

entirely sober. He even frequently expressed to me the pain he felt

at the excesses of his crew, to whom, according to the custom of

these pirates, he was obliged to allow an abundance of liberty. He

made me afterwards a disclosure, which was sufficiently pleasant.

“Monsieur,” he said to me, “do you know that tomorrow, being the

fifth of November, according to our method of computation” [for we

French people count it to be the fifteenth], “the English have a

great festival?”

“And what is the festival?” I asked him.

“We burn the Pope,” he answered, laughing.

“Explain to me,” I said; “what is this ceremony?”

“They dress up in a burlesque style,” he said, “a kind of ridiculous

figure, which they call the Pope, and which they afterwards burn,

while singing some ballads; and all this is in commemoration of the

day when the Court of Rome separated England from its communion.[17]

To-morrow,” he continued, “our people who are on shore will perform

this ceremony at the fort.”

After a while, he caused his pennon and flag to be hoisted. The

sailors manned the yard-arms, the drum was beaten, they fired the

cannon, and all shouted, five times, “Long live the King!” This

having been done, he called one of the sailors, who, to the great

delight of those who understood his language, chanted a very long

ballad, which I judged to be the recital of all this unworthy story.

You see in this, my Reverend Father, an instance which fully confirms

what all the world knew before, that heresy always pushes to an

extreme its animosity against the visible Head of the Church.

During the night a large boat came to us, manned by rowers. The

captain, who was always on his guard, and who was not able to lay

aside the idea that our people were seeking to surprise him, caused

them immediately to clear the decks. They at once fired their

swivel-gun; but the boat, having made its signal, all was again

quiet. It was the lieutenant, who had been to plunder the dwellings

along the river. He reported that he had only visited two or three

plantations, which he had found entirely deserted. He added that he

was going to ascend the river again, to consign every thing to the

flames. In fact, after having supped and had sufficient consultation

with his principal, he departed again. I asked permission to go with

him as far as the fort to look for my papers, but it was refused

me. However, to soften a little the pain which this denial gave me,

Captain Potter promised that he himself would go thither with me. I

therefore summoned up my patience, and endeavored by a little sleep

to repair the loss of the preceding night; but it was useless. The

noise, the confusion, and the bad smells did not allow me to close my

eyes.

On Sunday morning, I waited to see some religious service, for up to

this time I had not recognized any mark of Christianity; but every

thing went on as usual, so that I could not refrain from showing my

surprise. The captain told me “that in their sect each one worshipped

God in his own way; that they had among them, as elsewhere, the good

and the bad; and that ‘he who acted right would be approved.’” At the

same time he took out of his chest a book of devotion; and I noticed

that, during this day and the following Sunday, he occasionally

looked at it.[19] As he always seemed to me to be very reasonable,

I took pains, from time to time, to introduce into my conversation

some word of controversy or of morality, which he received very well,

having explained to him by the interpreters what he did not himself

understand. He even told me one day “that he did not wish longer to

pursue the business of privateering; that God might to-day give him

property, which, perhaps, might shortly be taken away from him by

others; that he was well aware he should take nothing away with him

in dying; but, nevertheless, I should not expect to find more piety

in a French, or even in a Spanish, privateer than I saw in his ship;

because these sorts of armaments were scarcely compatible with the

exercises of devotion,” I confess to you, my Reverend Father, that I

was astonished to hear such sentiments in the mouth of an American

Huguenot[20]; for every one knows how entirely this part of the world

is removed from the kingdom of God and every thing which can lead to

it. I have often exhorted him to pray the Lord for light, and that He

would not allow him to die in the darkness of heresy, in which he had

the misfortune to be born and brought up.

As the boats were constantly going and coming, from the shore to the

vessel and from the vessel to the shore, transporting the pillage,

one came that very evening, bringing a French soldier and five

Indians. He was one of our soldiers, who, fifteen days before, had

been to seek the Indians to engage them to work, and, not knowing

that the English were masters of the fort, had run into their hands.

I represented to Captain Potter that, as the Indians were free among

us, he neither ought to nor could take them prisoners, particularly

as they had not been found with arms in their hands. But he answered

me “that this kind of people were used for slaves in Rodelan, and

that he should take them thither in spite of all that I could say.”

He has, in fact, carried them away, with the Aroüas whom he had first

captured in the Bay of Oyapoc. Perhaps he has a fancy to return to

this country, and intends to use these miserable beings in making his

descent on the coast, or perhaps he will release them at Surinam.

I had, nevertheless, on Monday morning, reminded him of the promise

he had made me that he would take me on shore; but he was not then

able to do any thing, and I was obliged to content myself with fair

words, so that I despaired of ever again visiting my old home. On

Tuesday, however, he came to me to say that, if I wished to go to

the fort, he would take me. I most willingly accepted the offer;

but, before I embarked, he strongly recommended to me not to attempt

flight, because, he assured me, I would be stopped by the discharge

of a gun. I reassured him on that point, and we set out.

The commander of the boat was the second lieutenant, the same who had

threatened to cut my tongue; and, as I complained to the captain, who

had, without doubt, spoken to him about it, he made the strongest

apologies on that point to me while on the way, and showed me a

thousand acts of politeness.

Before I was scarcely aware of it, we arrived at our destination; and

immediately I saw all those who were guarding the fort come to the

landing, some with guns and others with swords, to receive me. Little

accustomed to good faith, perhaps, they were always afraid that I

should escape from them, in spite of all that I was able to say to

quiet them on my account.

After we had taken a little rest, I asked to go to my house, and they

conducted me thither under a strong escort. I began by first visiting

the church, to enable me to see for the last time what was its

condition. As I was not able to restrain my tears and sighs on seeing

the altars overturned, the pictures torn, the sacred stones broken

in pieces and scattered on every side, the two principal members of

the band said to me “that they were very sorry for all this disorder;

that it was done contrary to their intentions by the sailors, the

negroes, and the Indians, in the excitement of pillage and the heat

of drunkenness, and that they made their apologies to me for it.” I

assured them “that it was of God principally; and, first of all, they

should ask pardon for such a desecration of His temple, and that they

had great reason to fear lest He should avenge Himself, and punish

them as they deserved.” I then threw myself on my knees, and made a

special confession to God, to the Holy Virgin, and to Saint Joseph,

in honor of whom I had set up these altars to excite the devotion of

my parishioners; after which I arose, and we went on to my house.

I had five or six persons around me, who most strictly watched all my

steps every moment, and, above all, the direction in which I looked.

I did not then understand the occasion of all this attention on their

part, but I have since learned it. These good people, avaricious to

the last extreme, imagined that I had money concealed, and that, when

I showed so much anxiety to return to shore, it was to see whether

any one had discovered my treasure. We entered the house, then,

together; and it was the occasion of sincere sorrow to me, I must

confess, to see the frightful disorder in which it was.

It is now nearly seventeen years since I came for the first time

to Oyapoc, and began to collect all that was necessary for the

foundation of these Indian missions, foreseeing that this section of

country, where the savages are so numerous, would furnish a great

career for our zeal, and that the parish of Oyapoc would become,

as it were, the storehouse of all the other establishments. I had

not ceased ever after to be always making better provision, through

the charitable cares of one of our Fathers, who wished to be my

particular correspondent at Cayenne. God has permitted that one

single day should destroy the fruit of so much labor and of so many

years, that His holy name might be praised. What gave me most concern

was, to know that the three missionaries who remained in that quarter

were stripped of every thing, without my having it in my power for

the present to procure even the merest necessaries, notwithstanding

all the liberality and the good intentions of our Superiors.

At last, after having gone rapidly through all the small apartments,

which were used as lodgings for our Fathers when they came to visit

me, I entered my study. I found all my books and papers on the

ground, scattered, mingled together, and half torn to pieces. I took

what I could; but, as they pressed me to finish, I was obliged to

return to the fort.

In a few hours afterwards, those arrived who had been to plunder

the dwellings; and, after being a little refreshed, they continued

their route to the ship, carrying with them what they had pillaged,

which, by their own acknowledgment and to their great regret, was

inconsiderable.

The next day, all the morning was passed in making up packages, in

destroying the furniture which remained in the different houses, and

in tearing off the locks and hinges of the doors, particularly those

which were made of brass. At last, about mid-day, they set fire to

the houses of the inhabitants, which were shortly reduced to ashes,

having been only roofed with straw, according to the custom of the

country. As I saw that mine would certainly share the same fate, I

was very pressing to be conducted thither, that I might recover more

of my books and papers than I had hitherto been able to secure. The

second lieutenant, who was then in command, made a parade before me

of discharging a pistol, which he carried in his belt, and then

he immediately loaded it, taking great pains that I should see it.

I have since learned why he took so much trouble in this matter.

Immediately afterwards, he said to me that, if I wished to go to my

house, he would conduct me.

Having reached my house, I went again to look for certain papers;

and, as there remained with me only a single sailor, who spoke

French, all the others being a little scattered, he said to me,

“My Father, all our people are at a distance; save yourself, if

you wish.” I was well aware that he wished me to attempt it, and I

therefore replied coldly to him “that men of my profession do not

know what it is to break their word.” I added “that, if I had wished

to take to flight, I could long ago have done so, as there had been

many favorable opportunities while they were amusing themselves with

pillaging or drinking.”

At length, after having thoroughly searched everywhere without

finding any thing more, I informed them that I had finished, and that

we could go when it pleased them. Then the lieutenant approached

me, with a grave and threatening air, and told me, through the

interpreter, “that I must show the place where I had concealed my

money, or I would find myself in trouble.” I answered, with that

confidence which truth gives, “that I had not concealed any money;

that, if I had thought to put any thing in a place of safety, I

should have begun with those things that are used at the altar.”

“Deny the fact as you will,” the interpreter then replied to me by

order of the officer, “we are certain, and cannot doubt it, that you

have a large amount of money, for the soldiers who are our prisoners

on board have told us so; and yet we have found but very little in

your wardrobe. You must, therefore, have concealed it; and, if you

do not immediately give it up, take care of yourself. You know that

my pistol is not badly loaded.” I fell on my knees, saying “that they

were masters of my life, since I was in their hands and at their

will; that if, however, they wished to go to that extreme, I begged

them to allow me a moment for prayer; that, for the rest, I had no

other money than what they had already taken.” At last, after having

left me for some time in that position, and looking at each other,

they told me to rise and follow them. They took me under the gallery

of the house, which was built over a little grove of cocoa-trees,

which I had planted like an orchard, and, having made me sit down,

the lieutenant also took a chair, and then putting on an air of

gayety, he said, “that I had no occasion for fear, as they did not

intend to do me any injury; but that it was impossible I had not

concealed any thing, since there was sufficient time, as I had seen

them from before my door when they came to take the fort.” I replied

to him, what I had already said so often, “that we had been so much

terrified by the noise they made during the night, with their shouts

and cries, and the incessant firing they kept up, that at first we

thought of nothing but escaping death by a speedy flight; the more so

as we imagined that they had scattered themselves at the same time

through all the houses.”

“But, after all,” he replied, “the French prisoners are well

acquainted with your means. Why should they have told us that you had

plenty of money, if it were not true?”

“Do you not see,” said I, “that they wished to conciliate you, and

make their court to you at my expense?”

“No, no,” he continued; “it is because you do not wish to give up

your money. I nevertheless assure you, and I give you my word of

honor, that you shall have your liberty, and that we will release

you here without burning your houses, if you will, after all, show

your treasure.”

“It is entirely useless,” I answered him, wearied with all these

conversations, “that you follow me up with these earnest appeals.

Again, once for all, I have nothing else to say to you but what I

have so often repeated.”

He then spoke to the sailor who acted as interpreter, and who had

kept his eyes on me during all this interview, to see whither I

directed my looks. He then went out to visit my cocoa-grove. I then

recalled a little interview I had with the captain, a few days

before. I said to him “that, if the sentinels had done their duty,

and given us notice of the arrival of the enemy, we would have

concealed our most valuable effects.”

“In what place,” he asked me, “would you have hid all these things?

Would you have hid them in the ground?”

“No,” I replied; “we would have been contented with carrying them

into the woods, and covering them with branches.”

It was, then, for this, that these cunning pirates, who weigh and

put together all our words, imagining that I did not have sufficient

time to carry very far what I esteemed most precious, were induced,

as the last effort of their cupidity and distrust, to make a search

under the trees in my garden. But it was impossible that they should

find what had never been placed there; so the sailor soon grew tired

of searching; and, he having returned, we went together to the

fort,--they without any booty, and I with some few of the papers I

had collected.

Then for some time they consulted together, and about three o’clock

they went to set my house on fire. I prayed them at least to spare

the church, and this they promised me. But, notwithstanding, they

burned it; and when I complained, they told me that the winds, which

that day were very high there, had undoubtedly carried thither some

sparks, which had set it on fire. With this answer I was obliged to

be contented, leaving to God the time, the care, and the manner of

avenging the insult offered to His house. For myself, seeing the

flames rising up to the clouds, and having my heart pained with the

most lively sorrow, I began to recite the seventy-eighth Psalm,

“_Deus venerunt gentes_,” &c. (“O God, the heathen are come into

thine inheritance,” &c.)

At last, after every thing was carried to the boats, we ourselves

embarked. It was a little after five o’clock; and the sailors, who

were to follow us in two small boats, finished by burning all the

buildings of the fort. At length, having rowed out a little into

the river, and allowing themselves to clear the shore very slowly

with the current, they shouted many times, “_Houra_,” which is their

“_Vive le roi_,” and their cry of joy. They had not, however, any

great occasion to pride themselves on their expedition, since, had it

not been for the black treason which delivered us into their hands,

they would never have succeeded. Neither was it of any use; because,

though they had inflicted a great injury on us, they had themselves

derived very little profit from it.

I had expected to find the ship where I left it; but it had already

stood off in such a way that we did not arrive there till the night

was far advanced; so that they did not discharge their booty until

the next day, the morning of the 19th of the month. During the whole

of this day they made no progress, although they used their oars,

as their sails were useless for want of wind. This delay disquieted

me very much, because I wished as soon as possible to know my fate.

“Would they leave me at Cayenne?” I said to myself. “Will they carry

me to Surinam? Will they take me to Barbadoes? or even as far as New

England?” And, as I was occupying myself with these inquiries, lying

in my berth, which I was not able to quit on account of my great

weakness and the seasickness, which afflicted me terribly, some one

came to tell me that they had sent on shore three of our soldiers,

with one old Indian, captured in the canoe of the Aroüas, of which

I have already spoken. I was a little surprised; and, on asking the

captain the reason, he told me that it made so many useless mouths

the less.

“And why,” said I, “do you not do the same towards all the other

prisoners?”

“It is,” said he, “because I am waiting for a good ransom for the

rest of you.”

He would have given a much truer excuse if he had said, that, wishing

to make a descent on Cayenne, he was afraid that some of his people

might be captured, in which case he wished to have some with whom to

make an exchange, which did in reality happen, as we shall see in the

end.

The wind having freshened a little in the evening, we continued our

voyage through the whole night, and before noon approached Cayenne,

off a high rock named Connestable, and which is five or six leagues

distant. They had already learned of the disaster which had befallen

Oyapoc,--perhaps by a note which a young Indian had written, or

perhaps through some inhabitants of Aproakac, who had come to take

refuge at Cayenne. But they were ignorant of all the circumstances;

and the public, as it commonly happens in such cases, set in

circulation many reports, each one more false than the last. Some

said that every person at Oyapoc had been massacred, and that I, in

particular, had suffered a thousand cruelties. Others published that

there were many ships there, and that Cayenne would be obliged to

submit to the same fate. What seemed to give a little sanction to the

last news was, that the ship which had captured us carried with it

three boats, which, with the long-boat, made five vessels. All having

sails and looming up, at a distance caused them to make a formidable

appearance to those who were on shore.

For myself,--in the persuasion I had that our Fathers, whom I had

left in the woods, or some other of the French who had fled, would

not fail to go as soon as possible to Cayenne to give them certain

intelligence of our sad lot, or at least to forward ample information

with regard to it,--I imagined they would send some one to rescue me.

But I was deceiving myself, and they were entirely ignorant of every

thing that had happened to me. So Friday passed, and the next day

we cast anchor very near the Enfant Perdu. This is a rock, distant

from the land six thousand and thirteen _toises_,[21] as it has been

exactly measured by M. de la Condamine, member of the Royal Academy

of Sciences, on his return from Peru.

Towards nine o’clock in the morning, after a great stir in the ship,

I saw two large boats set out, which went to a little river called

Macouria, especially to plunder the residence of a certain lady; in

revenge, they said, for some grievances which had been previously

suffered by the English, who had gone there to purchase syrups. For,

my Reverend Father, you must know that in time of peace that nation

trades to this place, principally to furnish horses for the sugar

plantations.[22] As I saw but thirteen men in each boat, including

two Frenchmen, who were to serve as guides, I began from that moment

to entertain some hopes of my liberty; because I fully believed, as

the weather was very clear, they would see this manœuvre from the

land, and not fail to fall upon them. I was thus indulging in these

pleasant thoughts when they came to tell me that the boats were

about to go first to Couron, which is about four leagues distant

from Macouria, to capture there, if possible, Father Lombard, the

missionary, who had labored with so much success and for so long a

time in Guyane, in the conversion of the Indians. Their object was,

that they might exact a ransom for him in conformity with his age and

merits.

I leave you to imagine how like the stroke of a thunderbolt news of

this kind came upon me, for I was well assured that, if this worthy

missionary should be brought on board our ship, he would entirely

sink under the fatigue. But Providence, which was not willing to

afflict our missions to this extent, defeated their plan. They ran

aground on the way, and were obliged to hold to their first design,

which was to ravage Macouria alone. They, in fact, arrived there

on Sunday morning, and spent that day and the following night in

pillaging and destroying the dwelling which was the object of their

hate. On Monday morning, after having set fire to the buildings, they

returned on board, without having received the least opposition from

any one. The negroes were so thoroughly terrified that they did not

dare to show themselves, and the French who had been dispatched from

Cayenne on Sunday morning had not yet been able to reach there.

During this expedition, those who had remained with me in the ship

reasoned each one in accordance with his desires or his fears. Some

prophesied a fortunate result to this enterprise, and others wished

for it. At length, as each one was thus indulging in his own peculiar

views, I saw again a great movement on board of our ship, towards

three o’clock in the afternoon. It was caused by the departure of the

boatswain, an energetic man, bold and determined, who, in command

of nine men only, went in the long-boat to attempt a descent on the

coast very near Cayenne, using as his guide a negro, who knew the

coast, because he was a native of it. Perhaps also Captain Potter

wished to make a diversion, and in that way prevent their sending

a force from Cayenne against those of his people who had gone to

Macouria.

However that might be, when I first learned the departure of the

long-boat I could not doubt but that the Lord wished to relieve me

from my captivity, persuaded as I was that, if the first party was

not attacked, the second certainly would be. And what I anticipated

in reality took place. The ten Englishmen, after having pillaged

one of our dwellings, were encountered by a company of French, and

entirely defeated. Three were killed on the spot, and seven were made

prisoners. On our side there was but one soldier wounded, in the

shoulder, by a musket-shot. As to my poor negro, it is surprising

that in this fight he was not even wounded. The Lord, without doubt,

wished to recompense him for his fidelity to his master. It was from

him that they at length learned at Cayenne the particulars of the

capture of Oyapoc, and every thing that related to me personally.

We who were on board were exceedingly anxious to learn the result

of all these expeditions; but nothing came either from the shore or

from Macouria. At last, when the sun began to appear, and it became

sufficiently light for us to see at a distance, there was a constant

stream of sailors going up to the round-top and coming down, who

always reported that they could see nothing. But at nine o’clock,

Captain Potter came himself to tell me that he had seen three boats

which, leaving Cayenne, had gone in the direction of Macouria, and no

doubt were in pursuit of his people. To tranquillize him a little,

I answered, “that they might be the boats of the inhabitants, who,

after having heard Mass, were returning to their homes.”

“No,” he replied, “those are boats full of people. I have seen them

perfectly with my glass, at a distance.”

“Your people,” I suggested, “will perhaps have left the river before

the others reach it, and after that there can be no collision.”

“All this does not worry me,” he said. “My people are well armed

and full of courage. The fortunes of war must decide it, if the two

parties meet.”

“But what do you think of your long-boat?” I asked him.

“I think it is captured,” he said.

“Excuse me,” said I to him, “if I say to you that there was a little

temerity in your running the risk of a descent with so small a force.

Do you, then, imagine that Cayenne is an Oyapoc?”

“That was far from being my idea,” he answered; “but it is the too

great ardor and excessive energy of the boatswain which has caused

it. So much the worse for him if he has come to evil! I am, however,

sorry for it,” he continued; “for I have a great esteem for him, and

he was very necessary to me. He has, without doubt, exceeded my

orders; for I had advised him not to land, but only to examine from a

short distance as to the most commodious place to disembark.”

After we had thus conferred together for a short time, he caused them

to raise the anchor, and approached as near as possible to land and

to Macouria. His object was as much to cut off the way for our boats,

as to cover his people and shorten the return for them.

Nevertheless, all Sunday passed in great anxiety. Our enemies were

aware of the fact that there were three ships in the harbor, because

the boats going to Macouria had approached sufficiently near the

port to discover them, and they had made the signal agreed upon with

Captain Potter. But some had fears lest these vessels might come

out and attack the ship during the night. So, about seven o’clock

in the evening, they placed two swivel-guns in the windows, besides

the twelve which were on deck along the sides of the ship. But the

captain was very composed. He told me “that, so far from fearing that

they would come and attack him, he, on the contrary, desired it;

hoping thus to gain possession of those who should dare to approach

him.” He was thoroughly armed as a privateer: sabres, pistols,

guns, lances, grenades, balls filled with bitumen and sulphur,

grape-shot,--nothing was wanting.

I believe that no one slept that night. However, nothing appeared,

either from Macouria or Cayenne, which was the cause of great

uneasiness to us all. At length, at eight o’clock in the morning,

the captain came to tell me that he had seen a great deal of smoke

on the shore at Macouria, and that his people had without doubt

set fire to the buildings of Madame Gislet. (This is the name of

the lady to whose residence the English had particularly directed

their attention.) “I am very sorry,” he added, “for I had expressly

forbidden them to burn any thing.” A little while after, they saw

from the height of the round-top five canoes or boats, some of which

seemed to be pursuing each other. They were our French people, who

were giving chase to the English. Captain Potter, an able man in his

profession, at once perceived this, and took measures accordingly;

for he raised his anchor, and made again a movement to approach them.

He called all his people to arms, having at the same time obliged all

the prisoners, whether French or English, to descend into the hold. I

wished myself to go there also; but he told me I could remain in my

cabin, and he would notify me when it was time.

In the midst of this excitement, one of the boats which had come from

Macouria drew nigh, as by dint of rowing; and to assure themselves

that they were English, those in the vessel raised their pennant

and flag and fired a gun, to which the boats having responded by

the discharge of a musket, the signal on which they had agreed,

tranquillity succeeded this first movement of fear. But there

remained as yet one boat behind, which was coming very slowly with

the _pagaye_ (a kind of scull, or oar, which the Indians use to

row their canoes), and they feared that it would be captured by

our boats. No sooner, therefore, had the officer who commanded the

first discharged in haste the little they had brought with them,

than he hurried back to convoy it. After having conducted it to its

destination, and all the little booty they had taken having been

embarked in the ship, each one thought of refreshing himself to the

utmost for the fatigues of this marauding. Punch, lemonade, wine,

brandy, sugar,--nothing was spared. Thus passed the rest of the day

and the night of Sunday to Monday.

Among all these successes,--which, however inconsiderable they really

might be, were yet occasions of triumph for them,--there remained one

great source of chagrin, which was the capture of the long-boat and

of the ten men who had landed in it. It became necessary, therefore,

to think seriously of some means of rescuing them. For this reason,

on Monday morning, after having consulted among themselves and held

council after council, they came to find me, to say that, their ship

dragging considerably, perhaps on account of the currents, which are

very strong in these latitudes, or perhaps because they had only one

small anchor remaining, they could not longer hold their anchorage,

and they thought, therefore, of going to Surinam, a Dutch colony,

twenty-four leagues or thereabouts from Cayenne; but, however, they

very much wished to receive first some news of their long-boat and

the people who had landed on Saturday.

I told them, in reply, “that this was very easy; that it was only

necessary to fit out one of the boats which they had taken from

us, and to send it to Cayenne with the proposal for an exchange of

prisoners.”

“But would they be willing to receive us?” they asked me; “would they

not inflict on us some injury? Would they permit us to return?”

It was easy for me to remove doubts which had so little foundation,

by telling them, as is the case, “that the law of nations is the

same in all countries; that the French did not pride themselves

less than the English in observing it; that nothing was so common

among civilized people as to see the generals mutually sending

heralds-at-arms, trumpeters, or drummers, to carry their terms of

agreement; and that, therefore, they need have no fear for those of

their crew whom they might send to land.”

After renewed consultations, which they held among themselves, they

began to make their proposals, some of which I found to be entirely

unreasonable. For example, they wished to have returned to them their

boat with all the arms, and to have all the prisoners released,

whatever might be their number, in exchange for only four Frenchmen,

which was our number.

I answered him, “that I did not think they would accede to this

article of war; that, as far as it related to men, the usage is to

change them head for head.”

“But, you alone, do you not value yourself as much as thirty

sailors?” said one of the crowd to me.

“No, certainly,” I answered; “a man of my profession, in time of war,

should not count for any thing.”

“All this is very well for wit,” said the captain; “but, since you

take it in that way, I must go and make sail. I am able very well

to bear the loss of ten men; it leaves me a large enough crew to

continue my voyage.”

Immediately he went out of the cabin to give his orders, and they

began working the ship, &c. But, through all this manœuvring, I saw

very well that it was only a feint on their part to intimidate me and

induce me to offer them two thousand piastres, which they had already

demanded for my ransom.

Nevertheless, as I had a great desire to free myself from their

hands, although I did not let it appear outwardly, I took occasion to

call Captain Potter and say to him, “that he need not be influenced

by my views; that he could at any time send a boat to Cayenne to make

the proposals which he judged proper, leaving it to Monsieur the

Commandant to accept or reject them.” He followed this suggestion,

and begged me myself to dictate the letter which he wished written;

and this I did, as his secretary, following exactly what he caused me

to say.

I also, on my own account, wrote a few words to Monsieur d’Orvilliers

and Father de Villeconte (our Superior-General), praying the first to

stipulate in the articles of negotiation, if he had an opportunity,

that they should return to me every thing in their possession

belonging to my church; offering myself to pay as much silver in

weight as would equal that of the silver vessels, and a certain sum

on which we would agree for the furniture, ornaments, and linen. At

the same time, I begged our Father, if this negotiation succeeded, to

send me the silver and the necessary balance for the account, by the

return of the boat, to the place where the exchange of prisoners was

to be made,--that is to say, half-way between the ship and the land.

All these letters being prepared, the boat was dispatched, and they

sent in it, as the bearer of these letters, a sergeant who had been

made prisoner at Oyapoc. He was ordered to use the utmost diligence;

and, as he was an energetic man, we should have had a prompt reply,

but the wind and the current were so contrary that they could not

make the port of Cayenne. We were all exceedingly disappointed: the

English, because they began to be in want of water and their ship

drifted again considerably, having only, as I have said, one small

anchor, which they were obliged to manage with a grappling-iron; and

we Frenchmen, because we were very anxious to regain our liberty. It

was necessary, however, to be patient and to resign ourselves to the

will of God until He should cause some new way to be opened.

At last, on Wednesday morning, having determined to ask the captain

what course he had determined to pursue, I was agreeably surprised

by hearing him say “that if I wished to go to Cayenne I was my own

master, with the condition that I should cause to be sent back all

the English who were prisoners there.”

“That does not depend upon me,” I said to him; “but I will promise to

make every effort with Monsieur the Commandant to obtain it.”

After some slight objections, which I easily removed, we wrote a new

letter to Monsieur d’Orvilliers, of which I was to be the bearer,

and, every thing being ready, we embarked--four French and five

English--to go to Cayenne. In taking leave of the captain, I said to

him, “that if the war continued, and he or any others of his nation

should come to Cayenne, I could not again be made prisoner.” He

answered me, “that he knew that already; the custom being not twice

to make prisoner of the same person in the course of the same war, at

least, unless he should be taken with arms in his hands.”

I then thanked him for his honorable treatment of myself, and,

grasping his hand, I said to him: “Monsieur, two things give me

pain at this parting. It is not exactly the pillage you have made

at Oyapoc, because the French will perhaps return you the same with

interest; but it is, in the first place, because we have not both of

us the same faith; and in the second place, because your people have

not been willing to return to me the furniture of my church on the

conditions I proposed, reasonable as they are, for it causes me to

fear lest the profanation of what belongs to the temple of the Lord

may draw down His anger upon you. I would advise you,” I added, while

embracing him, “to pray God each day to enlighten you as to the true

way to heaven; for as there is but one God, so there can be but one

true faith.” After which I descended into the boat which was to carry

us; and immediately I saw all the crew come up on deck, the flag

and pennant were hoisted, the gun was fired, and we were many times

saluted with “_Houras_,” to which we replied as often with “_Vive le

roi_.”

Scarcely had we gone a quarter of a league on our way when the

ship got under sail, and, toward five o’clock, we lost sight of

her. The sea, however, was very rough, and we had only miserable

oars to row with, when, to complete our difficulty, our rudder

became disabled. A hinge, which was held in its place by a screw

below, came out and fell into the sea. We then resorted to the only

expedient in our power, that of attaching the ring of the rudder to

the stern-post of the boat; but the iron shortly wore off the cord,

and we found ourselves in great danger. What increased our fear was,

that the night became very dark, and we were far distant from land.

We determined, therefore, to anchor until next morning, when we

could find out some way to relieve ourselves from this unfortunate

condition. As the English appreciated better than we did the peril in

which we were, one of them proposed to me to hoist the lantern high

up on one of the masts, as a signal for succor. But I represented to

him its uselessness, because we were too far distant to be seen, and,

besides, no one would dare to come to us in the uncertainty whether

we were friends or enemies.

Thus we passed a distressing night, between life and death; and what

was very remarkable is, that we had anchored, without knowing it,

between two large rocks, which we did not see until day dawned. After

having returned thanks to God for having so visibly protected us,

we resolved to gain the river, that, if possible, we might repair

the boat, or procure another at the neighboring dwellings, or, as a

last resource, go by land to Cayenne. But behold! a new accident.

As we took down the large mast, not having much strength of crew,

they allowed it to go on the opposite side from that on which it

should naturally fall. We all thought it would have crushed M. de

la Landerie, but happily he had only some slight bruises. We took

at that time--the sergeant and myself--one oar to steer, the others

each taking one to row; and, aided partly by the wind (for we carried

our foremast to enable us to avoid the breakers), and partly by the

tide, which began to rise, but, above all, conducted by the Divine

Providence which guided us, on the morning of the 26th we entered

the little river Macouria, which I have already mentioned. None of

us were acquainted with the channel; so that the English themselves

earnestly avowed that it was God who had conducted us, safe and

sound, in spite of the great dangers.

Our first object was to obtain some means of getting to Cayenne;

but this was not an easy matter. In addition to the fact that we

could not find a boat or any way of repairing our own, the negroes,

who were the only persons left at the dwellings, were so frightened

that they did not wish to recognize us. As it had already become

known that I was a prisoner, they feared lest the English had

sent me ashore as a lure, through my means to entrap the slaves.

Nevertheless, after many protestations and prayers and solicitations,

I reassured some, who, more courageous than the rest, dared to

approach us; and, through their means, we obtained some little

refreshment, of which we certainly stood very much in need. For

myself, as I was scarcely able to take any nourishment, and for this

reason was very weak, I was hardly able to sustain myself.

As soon as each one was a little recruited, I consigned to the

negroes the boat, which we left in their care with all the rigging

and sails, and we set out on our journey to Cayenne, along the

borders of the ocean. We did not wish to go into the interior of the

country, for fear of affording our enemies a knowledge of the place,

which hereafter might be an injury to us. The night which followed

favored my design, and I can say with truth that the five English

whom I took with me saw nothing which could be of any service to

them, if at any future day, in the course of this war, they should

take a fancy to return to us.

It would be difficult, not to say impossible, my Reverend Father,

to describe to you what we suffered during this journey of only

three or four leagues. As the tide rose, and for that reason we were

obliged to make our way over the high ground of the shore, where

the sand is very shifting, we sunk into it; and most of us had the

greatest difficulty to drag ourselves along, so that I frequently

saw the greater part of our party obliged to stop and rest. The

English, particularly, being little accustomed to march, found the

journey very long, and would have been very willing to be back in

their vessel. But it was their fault that they found themselves in

such difficulty. In sending us ashore, they themselves knew that the

boat in which we embarked was unseaworthy. They should have given me

notice of it at the time, and I would have demanded another from the

captain.

At last, by dint of encouraging and animating them, we reached the

point which the river forms, and which fronts on the roadstead. It

was about midnight when we arrived at the dwelling of Madame de

Charanville, where the slaves, knowing the good heart and generosity

of their mistress, although alone, gave us the best reception they

were able, to recompense us for the privations we had suffered. I

had taken the precaution to send before us a negro of our party, to

remove their fears on our arrival; for without this, we should have

run a great risk of not being received, so great was the fright which

had everywhere seized on these poor wretches. So good a reception

gave great satisfaction to the English, who themselves feared being

killed or maltreated by the negroes, which would certainly have

happened had I not been with them. For this reason they never left

me. At length, after having taken a little rest, as soon as it was

day we embarked in a boat we had found, and continued our route to

Cayenne.

No sooner had they seen us at a great distance, than they well knew

from our white flag that we were the deputies who came to make

terms; and they immediately sent down a detachment to the port, who

received us at the point of the bayonet and with presented arms,

as is the custom on such occasions. All the ramparts which fronted

the roadstead, and the rising ground on which the fort is situated,

were entirely covered with people. Having directed the sergeant to

remain in the boat with all his company until I had spoken to the

commandant, I myself landed. The Brother Pittet had recognized me

with his glass, at a long distance, and hastened himself to give me

his hand.

It was a very consoling spectacle, my Reverend Father, to see all

Cayenne coming to meet me. In the streets through which I had passed,

there was so great a crowd of people that I had difficulty in making

my way. The rich as well as the poor, even all the slaves, pressed

around to give me proofs of the pleasure which my restoration

to freedom afforded them. Many bathed me with their tears when

embracing me. I do not blush to say that I was myself overcome in

recognizing such great demonstrations of friendship. A large crowd

followed me even into the church, to which I first repaired to return

thanks to God for the great blessings He had bestowed upon me, and

for which I pray you, my Reverend Father, to give thanks also.

Our Fathers and our Brothers distinguished themselves on this

occasion, and extended their charity, in my behalf, as far as it was

possible to carry it. As all my clothes were in a pitiable state,

they eagerly brought me every thing which was necessary. In this way

I realized to the letter the truth of that declaration of our Lord:

“_Quiconque quittera son père, sa mère, ses frères, pour l’amour

de moi, recevra le centuple en ce monde_.” (Whosoever shall leave

his father, his mother, his brethren, for my sake, shall receive an

hundred-fold in this world.)

We often talked together over the evils which might again happen

to us, and I was always very much edified at seeing their holy

emulation; each one wishing to sacrifice himself to succor the

wounded in case of an attack. But I thought that having already

had some experience in this matter, and not being able to be again

made prisoner during the continuance of this war, I should have the

preference, and begin the service in discharging the duties of our

ministry. We can, however, hope that neither the one nor the other

will be obliged to come forward in this way, but that the victorious

arms of the king will shortly bring about a solid and lasting peace.

As soon as I had made my report and forwarded my letters to Monsieur

d’Orvilliers, who was in retirement in his house on account of the

death of Madame his wife, he gave orders that the five English who

had come with me should be conducted, with their eyes bandaged,

according to custom in such cases, to the guard-house, where they

were to be confined; after which, he made the necessary arrangements

for sending them back to their ship, with the seven other prisoners

whom I have already mentioned, all of whom he was very willing to

free, in a great measure through consideration to myself. On the

following day, the 28th, they departed during the night in their

long-boat, with all the tackle and provisions necessary. We have

reason to wish that they should arrive safe in port, because we have

written by them to the Governor of Surinam; and I myself on my own

account have done so, to endeavor, through his instrumentality, to

recover what belonged to my church, on the conditions agreed upon

with Captain Potter when we parted. But if I should not succeed in

recovering these things, I flatter myself that you, my Reverend

Father, would be entirely willing to supply this deficiency by

sending me a complete church service, for every thing has been lost.

On my arrival at Cayenne, I had found there the officer who was at

Oyapoc when it was taken, and who since then has returned thither

with the chief surgeon and a party of soldiers. Since that time, the

commandant himself has gone back with the rest of the detachment, to

await the orders which the Court shall give with regard to Oyapoc.

The fort which we have just lost was built in 1725, under the

direction of M. d’Orvilliers, Governor of this colony, and had thus

been in existence but nineteen years. We do not know whether the

Court will think proper to re-establish it.

It was a great consolation to me to learn that our two missionaries,

the Fathers d’Autillac and d’Huberlant, have returned each to his own

post, after having entirely got over their fatigues before they went

back. They had again much to suffer, until we were able to furnish

them with assistance. They write me that the Indians, who had been

at first exceedingly frightened, had begun to be reassured, and that

they continued to render all the services in their power to the

inhabitants who remained in that quarter awaiting the new order.

You see, my Reverend Father, a very long letter, and, perhaps, one a

little too long. I should esteem myself happy if it is able to afford

you any pleasure, for I had no other object in writing. I am, with

respect, in the unity of your holy sacrifices, &c.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _The Landfall of Leif_, _The Problem of the Northmen_, _The

Defences of Norumbega_, _The Discovery of the Ancient City_, _Leif’s

House in Vinland_, etc.

[2] W. H. Babcock, _Early Norse Visits to America_. Smithsonian Misc.

Colls., Vol. 59, No. 19.

[3] Babcock, p. 139.

[4] Astronomical calculations demonstrate that the sun rose and set

at the time mentioned, October 17, in Latitude 41°, 24′, 10″, almost

exactly that of Narragansett Bay.

[5] In Old Norse the term “Hop” was applied to any inlet, fiord or

harbor with a narrow entrance, widening inside not far from the

entrance to a larger lake or lagoon into which a river flowed.

[6] The commander of the Prince Charles of Lorraine, of whom we shall

write later.

[7] The words used by Father Fauque are “_corsaire

anglois_.”--_Trans._

[8] _Les corsaires._

[9] Suspecting that _Rodelan_ and _Rhode Island_ were similar enough

in sound to mislead Father Fauque, we examined the list of governors

of Rhode Island, and found that William Greene was governor in

1744-5. This, therefore, was a Rhode Island privateer.[10] Father

Fauque says Captain Potter was “_Creole de la Nouvelle Angleterre_.”

He, of course, means he was a native of New England, and we have thus

translated it.--_Trans._

[10] The Prince Charles was owned in Newport. See _ante_, p. 44.

[11] Very true.--_Ed._

[12] Some of these are still preserved in Bristol.--_Ed._

[13] See testimony of Jeffrey Potter, _ante_, p. 46.--_Ed._

[14] A series of devotions extending through nine days.--_Trans._

[15] From 1715 to 1786 Rhode Island suffered from the issue of Bills

of Credit, or paper money.--_Ed._

[16] _Nota bene._--_Ed._

[17] Either Captain Potter or Father Fauque, in this statement, makes

a mistake. On November 5th, in England, they celebrate their escape

from the “Gunpowder Plot.” There is in the Prayer-book “A Form of

Prayer with Thanksgiving,” which is to be used on that day “for the

happy deliverance of King James I. and the Three Estates of England

from the most traitorous and blood-intended massacre by Gunpowder;

and also for the happy arrival of His Majesty King William on this

day, for the deliverance of our church and nation.” The common people

call it “Guy Fawkes’ Day.”[18]--_Trans._

[18] Guy Fawkes’ Day was observed with great fidelity, as far as

noise was concerned, by Bristol boys of the last generation.--_Ed._

[19] Captain Potter was a member of St. Michael’s Church, Bristol,

and as a good Church of England man was reading his Book of Common

Prayer.--_Ed._

[20] Potter was not a Huguenot. If Father Fauque had known of the

heresies abounding in “Rodelan” his astonishment would have been

equalled by his horror.--_Ed._

[21] A _toise_ is two yards.--_Trans._

[22] “Narragansett Pacers” were greatly in demand in the West Indies,

and on the “Spanish Main.”--_Ed._