Mahaica, August 22.
I am exceedingly sorry not to be able to give you improved tidings
concerning the health of the troops upon this station. They are still
very sickly, and it is distressing to know that the number of patients
increases more rapidly than our means of accommodation. I remain quite
well, amidst the general sickness which surrounds me; indeed, I am now
the only medical officer of this expedition who has not experienced an
attack of fever, but it would be too much to expect that I shall wholly
escape its visitation. My best hope is, that I may not be seized, while
my services are so essential to the relief of others.
In addition to the many duties which press upon me, I have now to
perform the melancholy office of priest. From having no clergyman at
Mahaica it falls to my lot to go through the afflicting ceremony of
reading the funeral service over my lost comrades. This is a severe task
to me, and I am sometimes fearful lest my spirits should become too much
depressed to support me through the various claims of my present
calling; but I am well aware, that if I were to yield to the distressful
apprehensions which I see exhibited by those around me, who are not
medical men, the situation of the sick must be more dreadful even than
it is, at present; I am therefore resolved, if my strength continue, to
meet with firmness all the necessities of this urgent period.
We have recently lost a pleasant and amiable companion in the decease of
Captain Heritage. He suffered serious alarm on account of the death of
the acting surgeon, and we found it impossible to rouse him from the
desponding impression. On the 6th instant, he followed poor Ramsden to
the grave, and from terror fancied that he perceived a “smell of the
disease;” but I remarked, while I was reading the service over the body,
that he had placed himself at a considerable distance to windward,
holding a handkerchief, the whole of the time, to his mouth and nose.
During the two following days he went about, as usual, among his
comrades, without complaining of being ill, but still expressing his
fears, and occasionally speaking of slight head-ach. On the morning of
the 9th I was called to visit him as a patient, when I found him in bed.
On the evening of the 10th he died. He had no strongly marked symptom of
disease, nor any sign of great pain or suffering; but an experienced eye
might discover from his general appearance, at the first moment of my
being called to him, that there was no hope of his recovery. Extreme
languor, with a peculiar change of feature, not to be described by
words, might be said to constitute the disease, while they were correct
indications of its dangerous nature. Soon, every thing he swallowed was
thrown from the stomach without effort—the prostration of strength
became excessive—he grew helpless—sunk into a state of listlessness—made
no complaint:—low delirium supervened—he turned yellow, and ... fell to
the earth like an autumnal leaf.
You will not be surprised to know that rumour has been busy on the
subject of the prevailing sickness, and its fatal tendency: or that the
prejudices of the inhabitants have led them to imagine that if it were
treated by “_the colonial doctors_” the disease might be easily subdued.
In consequence of such remarks, and in order to satisfy my own feelings,
by trying every means which it was in my power to obtain, for the relief
of the sick, I have solicited the aid of the medical men of the country,
both English and Dutch, and asked them to oblige me by attending
frequently at the hospital, that I might avail myself of their talents
and experience to the improvement of my own practice, and the consequent
benefit of the afflicted: several of the gentlemen have, accordingly,
been good enough to favor us with occasional attendance; but I find that
here, as at Berbische, the disorder is treated in the same manner as the
common remittent fever of the country, and nearly the whole reliance
confided to the bark—that great sheet-anchor of West India practice.
This was prescribed in ample quantity, and in various forms, but it
entirely failed of success.
At the time of poor Captain Heritage’s attack I particularly requested
the assistance of one of my colonial brethren; and perceiving that it
was beyond my own power to relieve him, I begged of Dr. —— to use his
utmost endeavours to save him, when, without appearing to entertain the
same apprehensions of his danger as myself, he advised a copious use of
the bark. After visiting Captain H. this gentleman went with me into the
hospital, where I selected four other recent cases, which seemed likely
to terminate fatally, and intreated the doctor to take these likewise
under his care; to command the resources of the hospital department; and
to exert his best means of restoring: them: but he declined the charge
of attending them, as his patients, although he consented to accompany
me in my visits, and to consult with me regarding them; which afforded
me infinite satisfaction, as I earnestly hoped to profit by his practice
for the benefit of others. The bark was prescribed for them all, and
most liberally administered, but in vain; for not one of them recovered!
The doctor was greatly disappointed at the unhappy result of these
cases, and, declaring that there was “_something different_” in the
fever which prevailed among the troops, from that which usually attacked
the colonists, he wished me better success, and withdrew his attendance.
It is scarcely requisite to mention that the trade-wind is lighter and
less steady, during the decline of the wet season, than it becomes in
the time of the dry season: so necessary, and salutiferous is it
esteemed at all times, and particularly at the present period, that, on
the breeze setting in, it is common for the people of the country to
exclaim, “Here comes the doctor,” hailing it as the best medical friend
of the colony. If it be not so powerful now as it is in the dry season,
still it may be said to be always free at Mahaica, although it does not
prove successful in preventing the wide ravages of disease.
Frequently I have long conversations with “_Doctor Bob_,” the resident
black _physician_ at the negro hospital, and sub-medical attendant of
his brother slaves, who is very communicative, and furnishes me with
many facts and remarks; and notwithstanding they are not always of
sterling value, they are occasionally interesting and important. A few
days since, on finding that his sick list had increased in almost as
great a degree as my own, I asked Dr. Bob how this happened, when he
replied, “_It always so, Massa, at this time o’ year, because him
weather change from wet to dry._” Seeing a negro boy, at the same
moment, in a high paroxysm of fever, his case became the subject of our
conversation, in the course of which this sable _doctor_ made the
following remark: “_Him fever shall go, when him water come low;—him
always come hot, when him tide high_:” a fact which we very frequently
observe at the hospital, although not so generally as to authorize an
unqualified opinion, that the febrile accessions strictly connect with
lunar influence.
The present moment may be said to be the high season of yellow fever. It
now rages in its utmost violence, and with sorrow I remark, that great
numbers perish from its malignity. Until the partial rains of the
present period shall have ceased, and the dry season be well set in, it
is said that we have to expect a continuance of sickness: nor does it
appear to be within the power of man to prevent it. Of the cure, perhaps
in many cases, I might speak in similar terms, for although we can
frequently remove the disease, interrupt its course, or lessen its
violence by combating it in an _early stage_; still, when the more
malignant symptoms have appeared, it seldom happens that any medicine
can arrest their progress. Bark, mercury, bleeding, bathing, and a
variety of other remedies have been amply tried: but in vain, for all
have proved equally ineffectual.
A painful alarm obtains among the troops; the medical officers are
falling victims to their fatigue; and many circumstances combine to
augment the melancholy gloom of this distressing period. At Mahaica the
numbers admitted into the hospital form a very large proportion of the
garrison; the same is the case at Stabrock. At Maiconuy and Awbarry, two
smaller posts between Mahaica and Berbische, although much of sickness
prevails, the disease assumes an intermittent or remittent form, and is
less fatal: while here, and at Fort William Frederic, it attacks with
all the destructive violence of a continued fever.
In my walks to and from the hospital, I sometimes fix myself at the side
of the sea, or on the border of the river, and contemplate, in solitude,
the awful, and peculiarly critical situation in which I am placed! I
behold the responsibility of an important department pressing upon
me—crowds of sick lifting up their dying eyes to me for relief—officers
watching, in earnest solicitude, my slightest complainings—soldiers
looking towards me with anxiety for my safety, and all who are near me
regarding me with the most lively concern—each seeming to express
himself sensible how much his health, and even his life, may soon depend
upon the care and exertions of an individual!
Anxious to lessen the evils of this afflicting season, I lately obtained
the consent of the commanding officer, and prevailed upon a party of
soldiers to place themselves under my direction, in order to try what
might be the effect of some prophylactic means, either in keeping off
the attack of the disease, or in rendering its symptoms milder; but,
after only a few days observance of the plan I advised, some of the men
happening to feel a little uneasy from the medicine, they all swore they
would not be _killed, while they were well_, to oblige either the
captain or the doctor, and, refusing to persevere, completely frustrated
my endeavours, and prevented me from ascertaining what might have been
the fair result of the trial.
Our diet-table at the hospital is of late very much improved, in
consequence of the planters, of the neighbouring estates, having agreed
to supply us, each in his turn, with fresh provisions for two days in
the week. It is not usual for Englishmen to esteem plain beef or mutton
a luxury; but such we really find it here, and, when we obtain it, we
feast upon it with high and particular enjoyment.