INTRODUCTORY--MY FATHER'S HISTORY--ENTERS THE NAVY AS A SURGEON--LEARNS
SPANISH--APPOINTED TO THE "ZEBRA," IN THE PACIFIC--TAKES DICKY DUFF
UNDER HIS CHARGE--A SHOOTING EXPEDITION ON SHORE--CAPTURED BY SPANIARDS
ON COAST OF GUATEMALA WITH DICKY AND PAUL LORO--CARRIED TO PANAMA--MEETS
AN OLD FRIEND, WHO TAKES HIM TO GUAYAQUIL--VISIT LOJA TO INSPECT
PERUVIAN BARK--MEETS DR. CAZALLA--ACCOMPANIES HIM TO POPAYAN--HE MARRIES
MISS CAZALLA, WHO BECOMES MY MOTHER; AND RICHARD DUFFIELD MARRIES HER
NIECE, AN HEIRESS--THEY BOTH SETTLE AT POPAYAN.
The circumstances which led my father, Dr Andrew Sinclair, to settle in
New Granada--the land of my birth--are of so romantic a character, that
I cannot better preface an account of my own adventures in that country
than by narrating them.
My grandfather, Duncan Sinclair, after whom I was named, was a member of
an old Covenanter family in Dumfriesshire, and was the parent of six
sons,--all of whom, with the exception of the eldest, who inherited the
estate, had to seek their fortune in the world. My father was his
fourth son. Having gone through a medical course at the University of
Edinburgh, where he gained not only a knowledge of his profession, but
of science generally, he entered the Royal Navy as an assistant-surgeon,
and was ultimately promoted to the rank of surgeon. Among his many
other talents, he possessed that of acquiring foreign languages, and he
spoke French and Spanish remarkably well; though at the time he learned
the latter--from a wounded Spanish prisoner, whose life was saved by his
skill--he little thought how useful it would prove to him. After
visiting many parts of the world, adding greatly to his store of
information, he was appointed to the _Zebra_ sloop-of-war of eighteen
guns, which soon after sailed for the Pacific.
Among the youngsters on board was a midshipman named Richard Duffield,--
generally known, however, as Dicky Duff. He was the orphan son of an
old messmate, who had been killed in action. The brave lieutenant's
last thoughts, as he lay mortally wounded in the cockpit, the guns still
thundering overhead, were about his son.
"The boy's mother is dead, and when I am gone he'll not have a friend in
the world. Doctor, will you look after him? I know you will!"
"Don't let any doubt about that trouble you. I'll act a father's part
towards your boy as well as I am able," was the answer.
My father faithfully fulfilled his promise; and when the boy was old
enough, he got him placed on the quarter-deck, and generally managed to
take him to sea with himself. Richard Duffield was grateful for the
kindness shown him, and became much attached to his protector, with whom
he had many tastes in common.
My father, whenever he had an opportunity, was in the habit of going on
shore with his gun, to obtain specimens of the birds and beasts of the
country; while he also frequently brought off a bag of game for the
benefit of the commander and his own messmates. On such occasions he
was generally accompanied by Dicky Duff, who had become as good a
sportsman as himself.
On one occasion, when the _Zebra_ was off the coast of Guatemala in
Central America, my father, having obtained a boat from the commander,
left the ship, taking with him Dicky Duff, and their constant attendant,
Paul Lobo, an African seaman, and a crew of six men. No inhabitants
appearing, the boat was hauled up on the beach, and the crew amused
themselves at leap-frog and other games, while my father and his two
attendants proceeded some way inland. Having had very good sport, and
filled their bags, my father sent back the midshipman and Paul to the
boat with the game, while he continued shooting, hoping to obtain some
more birds.
He had been thus employed for some time, and was thinking of returning,
when the sound of several shots reached his ears. These were followed
by a regular volley, and he had too much reason to fear that the
inhabitants had attacked the boat. Instead, therefore, of returning to
her, he made his way directly towards the shore. Emerging from the
forest, which reached almost to the water's edge, he saw the boat at
some distance off, with a party of men on the beach firing at her. His
hope was that Dicky and Paul had already got on board before the boat
shoved off. The distance was considerable, but still he hoped to be
able to swim to her; so, leaving his gun and ammunition, with the game
he had shot, under a tree, he plunged into the water. He had got some
distance from the shore when he found that he was discovered, by seeing
a shot strike the water not far from him. On looking round, what was
his dismay to perceive Dicky and Paul in the hands of the Spaniards! He
could not desert them, and consequently he at once turned and swam back,
hoping that by explaining their object in visiting the shore he might
obtain their release. But no sooner did he land than the Spaniards
rushed down and seized him. In vain he expostulated. "He and his
companions belonged to a ship of war, and they wished to be able to
boast that they had made three prisoners." They told him, however, that
if he would make signals to the boat to return, they would give him and
his younger companions their liberty. On his refusing to act so
treacherously, they became very angry, and bound his hands behind him,
as well as those of Dicky and Paul. The seamen at once pulled back to
the ship, when the captain sent a flag of truce on shore to try and
recover his surgeon and midshipman; but the Spaniards refused to give
them up.
After being kept prisoners for some time, they were sent down to Panama.
Here, though strictly guarded, they were not ill-treated; and when it
became known that my father was a surgeon, many persons, of all ranks,
applied to him for advice. He was thus the means of effecting several
cures, by which he obtained numerous friends. Indeed, he might here
have established a good practice, and have comfortably supported himself
and his companions; but he was anxious, for Dicky's sake especially, to
return with him to the ship. There was no place, however, nearer than
Cartagena, at which it was customary to exchange prisoners; and how to
get to it, was the difficulty.
He had been kept a prisoner for some months, when, passing through the
streets, he met his old acquaintance, Don Tomaso Serrano, from whom,
while Don Tomaso was a prisoner on board his ship, he had learned
Spanish. They immediately recognised each other, and expressed their
pleasure at meeting. Don Tomaso, on hearing what had befallen my
father, told him that he was in command of a man-of-war schooner, and
was about to proceed in her to the southward. "Although I cannot obtain
your liberty," he said, "I have sufficient influence to get leave for
you and your companions to come on board my vessel and proceed with me
as far as Guayaquil. I have friends there, whom I hope to interest in
your favour; and by their influence you will, I hope, be able to obtain
permission to land and travel across the country to Honda, from whence
you can make your way down the river to Cartagena. It is a round-about
route, but it may prove the shortest in the end. You will have an
opportunity, too, of seeing a beautiful region; and you cannot fail, I
am sure, to be hospitably treated wherever you go."
My father at once closed with Don Tomaso's offer, and was allowed to go
on board the schooner, accompanied by Dicky and Paul. Having obtained a
considerable sum of money, he was able to dress both of them, as well as
himself, in Spanish costume, so that they did not attract attention; and
as both he and Paul spoke Spanish perfectly, they were generally taken
for natives. Though still prisoners, the party were treated with the
greatest kindness, and enjoyed as much liberty as they could desire.
Heavy weather coming on, the schooner ran into the port of Buenaventura.
Beyond the bay, opening into it, is a lagoon of considerable extent.
On one side is the town, a great part of which is built on piles at the
water's edge. The place has but little to recommend it; indeed, there
are scarcely a dozen houses of any size, while the rest of the buildings
have a miserable appearance both without and within. Above the town
stands the church,--a building of no architectural pretensions, and
greatly resembling a barn. Buenaventura is the port of a considerable
district, embracing the valley of the Cauca. The climate, however,
owing to the constant damp and heat, which produce intermittent fevers,
prevents foreigners from residing here; indeed, it rains nearly every
day in the year.
Most of my father's time on shore was occupied in visiting persons
suffering from ague, and in prescribing for them. What a blessing,
indeed, can a clever medical man prove in such regions! He is like a
heaven-sent messenger carrying relief to the sick and suffering.
The weather moderating, the schooner continued her voyage, and at length
reached Guayaquil, the port of Quito, to the south of which it is
situated, at the head of the Gulf of Guayaquil. Here Don Tomaso proved
as good as his word, and obtained leave from the governor for my father
to travel with his attendants through the country.
While on shore at Guayaquil, he heard that in the region of the little
town of Loja, three days' journey off, grew in the greatest profusion
the cinchona, or Peruvian bark tree, at that time but comparatively
little known in Europe. Although my father was well acquainted with the
beneficial effect produced by the bark in cases of intermittent fever,
he was anxious to ascertain, by personal examination, the other
peculiarities of the tree. He obtained leave, therefore, from the
governor, to proceed in the first instance to Loja. That place he
reached without difficulty. On his arrival in the town, he found that a
Spanish doctor was residing there for the same object, but that he was
now laid up by a severe attack of illness, unable to continue his
researches. My father immediately called on him, and found that he was
no other than Doctor Cazalla, a physician widely celebrated for his
scientific knowledge and talents. Introducing himself as a medical man,
my father offered to prescribe for his brother physician, and in a short
time had the satisfaction of restoring him to health. The two doctors
then set out together on an expedition of botanical research, in which
both Dicky and Paul accompanied them.
The time thus spent together having resulted in the establishment of a
warm friendship between my father and the Spanish doctor, the latter
prevailed upon him to visit Popayan, his native place, on the way to
Cartagena. Their journey over that mountain region amid which
Chimborazo towers to the sky, was interesting in the extreme. I have
often heard my father speak of it. Popayan was at length safely
reached, with the botanical treasures they had collected; and here my
father was induced to remain for some time, in order to assist his
friend in their arrangement. Before their labours came to an end, my
father and Dicky were taken seriously ill. It now became the turn of
the Spanish doctor to attend to them. He, however, was aided in his
task by two ladies,--his sister and a young niece; the latter taking
Dicky under her special charge. The result was that my father married
the doctor's sister, and Dicky fell desperately in love with his niece.
The war with Spain was by this time over, and the _Zebra_ had returned
to England, so my father and his young charge, believing that they had
little prospect of getting on in the navy, determined to remain where
they were. As Doctor Cazalla was engrossed in scientific pursuits, he
gladly yielded up his practice to my father, his brother-in-law, whose
fame as a physician was soon established in the town and throughout the
surrounding district.
Richard Duffield, for I ought now to give him his proper name, in the
course of a few years married Dona Maria, the girl who had so
affectionately tended him, and who proved to be the heiress to a nice
estate in the neighbourhood, to the improvement of which, when he became
the proprietor, Richard devoted his time and attention; while Paul Lobo
remained with my father as his personal attendant and general factotum.