AT SEA.
_June 19th._—Two days ago, at noon, land was descried from the
mast-head. We were approaching the Bahama Islands, not in the direction
of the Mona Passage, but in that of the Caycos, more to the west, the
wind having headed us off from our first course. During the previous
night, we had passed over a point on the ocean, memorable in its
historic interest, where, on the very eve of joyful triumph, the
illustrious discoverer of the western world suffered the severest trial
of his daring voyage. It was here that the discouragement and fears of
his followers in their frail barks, approached desperation and open
mutiny; and confident hope had well nigh ended in disappointment, and
triumphant success in failure. It was impossible to traverse the same
waters, without recalling vividly to mind the scene of trial and
conflict which they had witnessed more than three hundred and fifty
years before, and sympathizing afresh with the great navigator in his
distress; or to hear the cry, “land ho!” without recurring in thought to
the devout exultations of his heart, when, in the watches of the night,
the interrupted glimmerings of a distant light peered upon eyes eagerly
searching its gloom, dispelling for ever the fears of his companions,
and crowning his adventurous enterprise with imperishable honor.
The land descried aloft, soon became visible from the deck. It was the
great Caycos, the most eastern of the Bahamas, a low, flat island of
sand, surrounded by extensive shoals. There was little to interest in
its appearance; a mere tufting of bushes on the water, along the line of
the horizon, of which we soon lost sight. The next morning, and for the
rest of the day, the west end of St. Domingo was in view, furnishing in
its turn abundant subjects for musing in the tragic scenes of the revolt
of 1791. Before nightfall the eastern extremity of Cuba was also in
sight. Both are lofty and mountainous, but less picturesque in general
outline than the islands of the South Seas. The sail of the afternoon
and evening was delightful,—the perfection of its kind. The trade-wind
was fresh and balmy, and so steady, that the lofty mass of canvas we
spread to it was as motionless as if it were a fixture on the sea; while
the ocean, of the most beautiful tint of marine blue, was every where
gemmed with white-caps of the brilliancy of so much snow.
_June 20th._—Hitherto the duty of the ship has been carried on admirably
under a kind and humane discipline. The lash, formerly in such constant
requisition on board a man-of-war, in bringing a new crew under ready
control, has neither been heard nor seen. A fight, however, which came
off a day or two since, between two of the marines, led to a kind of
drumhead court-martial, yesterday, and to the punishment of the parties
this morning, with the cat-o’-nine-tails. It is the first instance with
us of such a revolting spectacle, and I most devoutly hope it may be the
last. I am sure it will, unless there be those on board so incorrigible
and so determined to subject themselves to it, that no other mode of
discipline will meet their case. Before we left port, Captain McIntosh,
in an excellent address, after the first reading in public of the
“articles of war,” assured the crew with deep feeling, that nothing
could give him greater pleasure than to return to the United States and
have it in his power to report to the Navy Department that a lash had
never been given on board the Congress during the cruise. He reiterated
the same sentiment this morning to the ship’s company, mustered to
witness the punishment, with the fresh avowal of his utter unwillingness
to resort to so degrading a mode of chastisement: adding “that the
existing law, however, made the duty imperative upon him as an ultimate
means of enforcing his command, and protecting his ship from
insubordination and misrule; and that it should be remembered by all,
whenever the necessity was forced on him of administering this
punishment, that it would only be through the deliberate purpose and
choice of any one subjecting himself to it.”
The cat-o’-nine-tails, as a mode of punishment, is a relic of barbarism
disgraceful to the age in which we live, and antagonistic to its entire
spirit. The wonder is, not that men-of-wars men are scarce, and recruits
for the navy few, but that, with such a barbarous punishment legalized,
an American sailor can be found willing to place himself in a position
in which he can, by any contingency, be exposed to the disgrace of its
infliction.
In place of attempting a description of the spectacle, as just witnessed
by us, I will substitute one, which happens to be before me, of a
similar scene, from the pen of an officer in the British Navy. It is
more graphic than any I could furnish, and as truthful to the reality,
in its leading features, as can well be pictured. It is drawn from his
early experience as a midshipman. “I had not been many days on board,”
he says, “before I heard a hollow sound reverberating round the
frigate’s decks, and which seemed to bring a shade of gloom over the
faces of all around me. Again the words were repeated, ‘All hands,
Ahoy!’ I eagerly inquired the meaning of this mystery, and was answered
by a lad about sixteen years of age, ‘It is all hands to punishment, my
boy; you are going to see a man flogged.’
“The idea of a _man_ being flogged at all, under any possible
circumstances, had never before entered my brain. I had as yet no
notions that such a degree of barbarity could exist; I had indeed known
that boys were flogged, but how they could _horse_ a man was to me a
mystery. My reflections were broken in upon by observing all my
messmates busily engaged in putting on their cocked-hats and side-arms.
And as this was the first time I had sported my new dirk, I felt very
strange and mingled sensations, as I stepped forth on the quarter-deck.
The marines were drawn up on the larboard side of the deck, with their
bayonets fixed, and their officers with their swords drawn, and resting
against their shoulders. On the main deck the seamen had all assembled
in a dense crowd around the hatchway, and the said hatchway was
ornamented with several gratings fixed up on one end, evidently for some
purpose which I had never yet seen accomplished. The officers in their
full uniforms, with swords, and cocked hats, were pacing the decks: but
all was still and solemn silence. At length the captain came forth from
his cabin, the marines carrying arms at his first appearance on the
quarter-deck. The first lieutenant, taking off his hat, approached him,
and reported that ‘all was ready.’
“As the captain came up to the gangway, he removed his hat; which was
followed by all the men and officers becoming uncovered. Then, taking a
printed copy of the articles of war, he read aloud a few lines, which
denounced the judgment of a court-martial on any person who should be
guilty of some particular offence, the nature of which I did not
understand. This done, he ordered Edward Williams to strip; adding, ‘You
have been guilty of neglect of duty, sir, in not laying in off the
foretopsail yard when the first lieutenant ordered you; and I will give
you a d——d good flogging.’ By this time the poor fellow had taken off
his jacket and shirt, which was thrown over his shoulders by the
master-at-arms, while two quartermasters lashed the poor fellow’s elbows
to the gratings, so that he could not stir beyond an inch or two either
way. It was in vain that he begged and besought the captain and first
lieutenant to forgive him; protesting that he did not hear himself
called, in consequence of having a bad cold, which rendered him almost
deaf. His entreaties were unheeded; and at the words, ‘Boatswain’s mate,
give him a dozen,’ a tall, strong fellow came forward with a
cat-o’-nine-tails, and, having taken off his own jacket, and carefully
measured his distance, so as to be able to strike with the full swing of
his arm, he flung the tails of the cat around his head, and with all the
energy of his body brought them down upon the fair, white, plump back of
poor Williams. A sudden jerk of the poor fellow almost tore away the
gratings from their position; he gave a scream of agony, and again
begged the captain, for the sake of Jesus Christ, to let him off. I was
horror-struck on seeing nine large welts, as big as my fingers, raised
on his back, spreading from his shoulder-blades nearly to his loins; but
my feelings were doomed to be still more harrowed. For as soon as the
tall boatswain’s mate had completed the task of running his fingers
through the cords to clear them and prevent the chance of a single lash
being spared the wretched sufferer, he again flung them around his head
to repeat the blow. Another slashing sound upon the naked flesh, another
shriek and struggle to get free succeeded,—and then another and another,
till the complement of twelve agonizing lashes was completed. The back
was, by this time, nearly covered with deep red gashes; the skin roughed
up and curled in many parts, as it does when a violent blow causes an
extensive abrasion. The poor man looked up with an imploring eye toward
the first lieutenant, and groaned out, ‘Indeed, sir, as I hope to be
saved, I did not hear you call me.’ The only reply was on the part of
the captain, who gave the word, ‘another boatswain’s mate!’ ‘Oh, God,
sir, have mercy on me!’ was again the cry of the poor man: ‘Boatswain’s
mate, go on; and mind that you do your duty!’ the only answer.
“The effect of one hundred and eight cuts upon his bare back had
rendered it a fearful sight, but when these had been repeated with all
the vigor of a fresh and untired arm, the poor fellow exhibited a sad
spectacle indeed. The dark red of the wounds had assumed a livid purple,
the flesh stood up in mangled ridges, and the blood trickled here and
there like the breaking out of an old wound. The pipes of the boatswain
and his mates now sounded, and they called ‘all hands up anchor!’ The
gratings were quickly removed, and of all the human beings who had
witnessed the cruel torture on the body of poor Edward Williams, not one
seemed in the slightest degree affected. All was bustle and activity and
apparent merriment as they went to work in obedience to the call.”
In this account there is no exaggeration: no exaggeration of the usual
manner of inflicting such punishment; no exaggeration of the triviality
of the alleged offence; no exaggeration of the earnest asseveration of
innocence; no exaggeration of the hardening effect of the scene upon the
spectators. I have known men to be thus flogged for acts or omissions
equally if not more trivial—not only singly, but, in one instance at
least, a dozen at a time, and that, too, where it was known that one
only of the number was really in fault. Because some one of a quarter
watch in the top did a careless and lubberly thing, in the estimation of
an officer, though doubtless, from the circumstances of the case,
accidentally, and none of his topmates would give up his name, the whole
watch were ordered on deck, and, in succession, received a dozen lashes
each.
The entire experience of the writer of the above account, as to this
punishment, corroborates fully the opinion I have formed from my own
observation as to its effects—that in all its bearings it has a tendency
to demoralize and harden rather than to reform. He proceeds to state
that the captain under whose command the case of flogging described
occurred, changed ships not long afterwards with one who abominated the
system of corporal punishment; and adds, “For four years I served under
his orders, and witnessed no more of the inhuman practice. The men were
allowed to go on shore frequently sixty and seventy at a time, and in
all respects were treated so kindly that but one case of desertion
occurred during all that period. The captain made it a point to visit
the whole crew when at dinner, to see, himself, that they had every
thing they required to make them comfortable. This he did every day; and
the sick were always fed from his own table. The result of this was that
our ship was the smartest frigate on the station, and fought one of the
most glorious actions which ever graced the annals of the British Navy.”
His experience in the matter did not end here. He thus proceeds: “I
joined another ship, the captain of which was wont to say, ‘I never
forgive a first offence—for if there was no first offence there could be
no second.’ Profane swearing and drunkenness, he never by any accident
forgave. The result was a flogging match every Monday morning, and very
frequently once or twice in the week besides. The crew grew worse and
worse from this treatment, till, at length, there was scarcely a sober
seaman or marine on board the ship, though her complement was about six
hundred men and boys. The more drunken they became the more he flogged
them; but the crime and punishment seemed to react on each other, and
the ship became at last so very notorious for the cat that he was jested
upon it by his fellow captains, and the men deserted at every
opportunity.”
I believe the experience, thus presented, of these two ships, to be a
fair exposition of the general and direct tendency of the two systems.
Revolting as punishment with the ‘colt’ and ‘cat’ ever has been to me,
and often as my blood has been made to boil in witnessing it, a want of
practical knowledge in the case led me, for a time, reluctantly to
acquiesce in the opinion universally held, so far as I could discover,
by those most experienced in naval rule, that it was indispensable as a
means of discipline on board a man-of-war. But the teachings of my
nature, that this is an error, have been corroborated by long
observation; and had no previous conviction of this been fastened on my
mind, the success of the executive officer of the Congress in devising
and substituting more humanizing modes of punishment for transgressions
of law and delinquencies in duty, would have gone far in persuading me
to it. I doubt not that should the law of the lash be abrogated by our
national legislature to-morrow,[1] and the change be met by the
enactment of a wise and philanthropic code of naval rule, the discipline
and efficiency of the service would be more perfect than ever before.
[Footnote 1: Flogging was abolished, both in the navy and mercantile
marine, a few months after the above was written.]
_June 24th._—
“The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.”
So sings Longfellow, and such is the imagery around us from the passing
of a heavy squall. The rushing wind and the dampness brought with it,
from the approaching rain, are welcome and most refreshing, after two or
three days and nights on the south side of Cuba, sultry almost to
suffocation. Whether correct in our recollections or not, all hands
agree that, in no part of the world in which we have been, either on
land or at sea, have we before suffered so much from the intensity of
the heat. Notwithstanding, I was never in the enjoyment of more vigorous
health or in more elastic spirits.
In the afternoon of my last date, we had a distant view of a part of the
island of Jamaica, as well as of San Domingo and Cuba: a sail, too, was
in sight, and the smoke of a steamer marked on the horizon—all taking
much from the solitariness of our position. The next morning we were
slowly advancing westward, along the lofty, but mist covered and cloud
obscured mountain range of the Sierra de Cobra, beneath a point in which
lie the port and city of St. Jago de Cuba. At sunset the same evening we
were directly abreast Cape de Cruz, in full view of the coast, but at
too great a distance to make out the distinctive features of the
landscape, even with the best glasses. We are now off the Isle of Pines,
famed in the annals of the Buccaneers of the olden time, and a haunt of
pirates in our own day.
Light and baffling winds, with alternate calms, have made our progress
slow. The tedium of the time has been relieved in part by a first
interchange of dinner parties between the wardroom mess and the
commodore and captain. The kindest feeling exists among the officers of
all grades on board, and these reunions, where the formality of official
intercourse gives place for the time to the free interchange of thought
and feeling, and of sympathy in intellect and taste, are salutary in
their influences on both mind and heart. The Sabbath is the day usually
chosen on board a man-of-war for these courtesies; but it has been
unanimously decided, by our mess, that the entertainments given in the
wardroom shall be on a week day.
During the continuance of moonlight in the evening and early part of the
night, the enjoyment of it on deck in quiet musings, after the heat of
the day, seemed the prevailing mood of the ship’s company. The band in
whole or in part, at times, added music to the sympathies which were
sending our thoughts and affections homeward by the way of the moon. But
now that she is on the wane, and reserves her beams for the later
watches of the night, the sailors cheer themselves in the darkness, by
singing on the spar-deck, grouped in their respective limits from the
fife-rail to the forecastle. Last evening, even the quarter-deck was
invaded, under the sanction of an officer, by a party of negro
minstrels: not such mock performers as are heard on shore under the
name, but of the genuine type, consisting of the servants of the
wardroom. For half an hour or more they sang, in practised harmony and
with effect, many of the more sentimental and popular of the negro
melodies; while forward and in the gangways there was echoed forth, in
varied song, the feats of warrior knights and the love of ladies fair.
Others of the crew were, at the same time, listening in groups between
the guns along the entire deck, to a rehearsal by their shipmates of
tragic stories of shipwreck, piracy and murder; to recitations from
tragedies and comedies; to close arguments on various topics—navigation
and seamanship, politics, morals and religion—and, at one point, to a
lecture on history, of which I overheard enough to learn the subject to
be the life and achievements of the brave Wallace, dilated upon in the
broad dialect of the “land o’ cakes!”
Light-heartedness and contentment seem every where to prevail, and all
manifest by their conduct, as well as by word, that they feel themselves
to be on board a favored ship.
Had I time for the record, you would be amused by many things I hourly
hear and see, in my walks of leisure. To-day, while on the quarter-deck
after the men’s dinner, I overheard one of the messenger boys, who had
just come from this meal, say to a companion, “I tell you what, Jim, I
couldn’t eat much of that dinner: old mahogany and hard tack, is what I
call pretty tough eating. To-morrow too is bean day, and I wouldn’t give
a penny for a bushel of them.” A sprightly young sailor who completed an
apprenticeship in the service, happening to pass at the time, stopped
for a moment, and with an assumed air of indignant reproof, exclaimed,
“Why, you ungrateful young cub!—you growling at Uncle Sam’s grub? why
you ought to be down upon your knees thanking God that you have so good
an uncle to give you any thing!”
Just afterwards, I fell into conversation with an old salt who had been
with me, in the Delaware line-of-battle ship, in 1833. After mutual
inquiries of various officers and men who were shipmates with us then;
what had become of this one and what of that—he said, in all honesty of
heart, and with a most lugubrious expression of face, “And there was
Lieut. M—— too: they tell me, sir, _he stepped out entirely_, the other
day at the Hospital!”—meaning that he had died there. I never heard the
expression in such a connection before, and could not avoid being
struck, not only with its oddity, but also with its force.
_June 29th._—Just at nightfall, on my last date, we doubled Cape
Antonio, the extreme westerly point of Cuba, at a distance of ten or
twelve miles. It is long and low, covered with dark woods, and, in
general aspect, not unlike the coasts of Long Island and New Jersey, as
seen from the sea. As soon as our course was turned northward for
Havana, the regular wind became adverse to us, and the next morning we
were in the Florida Channel, far from the land and a hundred miles and
more from our port. The tediousness of a dead beat to windward was
relieved, however, by the greater freshness and elasticity of the air,
in comparison with that on the south side of Cuba. For two or three
evenings, here, the sunsets were among the most gorgeous I recollect.
The whole western hemisphere, filled with fantastic and richly colored
clouds, glowed with a brilliancy and glare of crimson light, as if the
entire sea beneath were one vast bed of volcanic fire.
After two days we again made the land, with fine views during the
afternoon, of two lofty ranges of mountains in the interior of the
island—the Sierra del Rosario and the Sierra de los Organos or Organ
mountains; but it was not till last night that we reached the parallel
of Havana. At 10 o’clock the Moro light, at the entrance of the port,
was descried, some fifteen miles distant. Its brilliant flashings,
through the darkness of an unsettled sky, came cheerily upon the sight
over the troubled water, in the assurance they gave of our true
position, amid the changing currents and hazardous navigation of these
straits.
Before daybreak this morning we fell in with and spoke the sloop-of-war
Germantown, Captain Lowndes, cruising off the harbor. I was early on
deck. The morning was fresh and beautiful, but the shores less bold and
striking than I had anticipated; and the mountains in view were more
remote. Still the landscape was pleasing in its verdure, though neither
varied nor picturesque in its outline. Having been lying to for the
night, we were still eight or ten miles from the entrance of the harbor;
but the Moro Castle and city were in distinct view—the former,
surmounted by its pharos towering loftily on a precipitous cliff of rock
on the left of the entrance, and the latter stretching beneath it to the
right, in a long line of whiteness on a level with the sea.
The scene increased momentarily in interest. A fresh trade-wind,
creating a sea which, in the brightness of the sun, tossed up jets of
diamonds on every side, hurried us rapidly forward, under topsails and
topgallant-sails only: the Germantown, a beautiful craft, followed
closely in our wake, fluttering over the water with the lightness and
buoyancy of a bird. There were besides some eight or ten square-rigged
merchant vessels in sight, under various degrees of sail—some entering
and others leaving port. While in the midst of these, the Germantown and
Congress interchanged salutes, with pretty effect on the general
picture.
The wind had now increased to a half gale; a pilot had boarded us, and
we bore away with a rush for the Moro, which immediately overhangs the
entrance to the port. This is narrow—very narrow; seemingly a mere
creek, a few ships’ length only in width. It runs at right angles with
the line of coast along which we were flying. This made it necessary in
entering, to haul suddenly, from a free course, closely on the wind. We
did so, at the speed of a race-horse, almost grazing the surf-lashed
rocks over which tower the frowning battlements of the Moro, and within
biscuit throw, as it were, of the batteries of the Punta on the opposite
side—the pilot, momentarily alternating the exclamation “Hard a port!”
“Hard a starboard!” “Steady—steady!” kept the men at the helm on the
full spring in shifting the wheel from side to side; while at the same
time the yards were filled with the crew reducing sail to bare poles, as
if by magic, under the trumpet orders of the first lieutenant. I thought
it one of the most exciting moments, and one of the most beautiful
sights, in the navigation of so large a ship, I had ever witnessed.
In less time than is required thus to state it, we were transferred from
the tossings of a rough sea, to the glassy surface of an apparent river.
The scene on either hand was picturesque and animated. On one side, were
the terraced heights adjoining the Moro, grim with the defences of war,
relieved here and there by sentries and groups of soldiers, lounging
about the batteries; and, on the other, level with the water, a range of
stone quays, lined with shipping and coasting craft, and covered with
sailors, boatmen, negro porters, and stevedores. Beyond rose the
buildings of the city, painted in every variety of light and gay colors,
and overtopped by the time-stained domes and towers of the churches and
other public structures. The aspect of the whole was so entirely
transatlantic, that I could scarce resist the illusion that I was again
in old Spain, and that it was “fair Cadiz” I saw stretched before me.
The gallantry of our entrance had attracted the gaze of the thousands
crowding the quay in its whole length, and murmurs of admiration were
every where heard at the beauty of our frigate, and the dashing style in
which she glided rapidly along under the headway brought in by her from
the sea.
At the end of half a mile, the straight and narrow inlet expands into a
round basin, five or six miles in circumference. Near the centre of this
we dropped anchor: having the city and its defences towards the sea on
one side of us, and green hills tufted with palm-trees and dotted with
cottages and country seats on the other. The harbor is a gem of beauty,
capable of containing the navies of half the world. Five Spanish
men-of-war, including a ship-of-the-line, are moored within pistol shot
of us, and the Germantown immediately at our stern. The dropping of the
anchor was followed by salutes from our batteries of twenty-one guns to
the flag of Spain, seventeen to that of the Spanish admiral, in command,
and nine in honor of Mr. Campbell, the American consul, who soon boarded
the Congress.
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