Part 24

I now began to feel alarmed for my fellow-passengers, and became more anxious concerning their safety, than regarding the return of the boat. Something surely must have happened! The tide and the mud appeared no longer sufficient to explain the delay. Still had we no means of obtaining, nor even of seeking information, and it only remained to us to continue the expectations of the preceding day, rendered doubly solicitous from our apprehensions respecting the fate of the gentlemen who had left us.

I made my escape very early from the cabin, and having exhausted all inquiries and conjectures, without discovering any possible remedy, it next became a question how to kill the heavy time. Already, had I travelled as far as _Finis_ with Isaac Bickerstaff; and had nothing left, in the shape of a book, but the dirty worn-out Vade-mecum: therefore, great as was my aversion to the sea, a seeming necessity drove me to separate the dirty pages of the old guide. A Dutch dictionary might have been as entertaining. I, nevertheless, laboured through latitudes and longitudes, and meridians, and altitudes, quite to the end; and still ... no boat appeared.

I, next, resumed my tattling with Mr. Bickerstaff, pursuing our conversation of yesterday, until about noon, when, to the great joy of all on board, our long-lost boat hove in sight. Both Tatler and guide were instantly forgotten, and, leaping up, I asked, impulsively, if we had yet time to reach Berbische by night. The captain assured me that we had; and you will believe that we kept our eyes, steadfastly, on the boat, wishing her tenfold speed. At length, after an absence of thirty-two most tedious hours, she came safely alongside; when we learned that no accident had occurred; but that owing to the immense beds of drifted mud on the coast, and to the tide making against them, when they first _neared_ the shore, all the party had been kept at sea in the open boat, exposed to the full ardor of a vertical sun, and without a morsel to eat, or a drop to drink, during the whole of the preceding day, from seven o’clock in the morning until ten at night: since which the boat had been kept on shore to give rest and refreshment to the poor sailors, who were extremely exhausted by heat and fatigue.

Thus did it appear that there were situations even more distressing than being confined on board the odious Voltigeur; for those who had gone off in the boat had been greater sufferers than myself. But I was surprised to find that men, who had so recently known the ills of privation, did not experience some feelings of sympathy towards others. Although they knew that we were lying waiting in sad suspense, and without food or drink, except some stale plantains and bad water, notwithstanding the boat remained on shore full twelve hours after they landed, they had not the consideration—the compassion, I might say, to send off either a bit, or a drop to the master of the vessel, whom they had kept waiting; or to the person whose provisions they had eaten.

We could not but feel hurt at this neglect; but we recollected that they landed at night and in a state of fatigue and discomfort but little calculated to extend their concern beyond their own persons; and we hoped to feel it the less on account of speedily reaching the haven whither we were bound: but, as if the torments of this vexatious voyage were never to end, it was discovered when the boat reached us, that the tide did not serve for us to get under weigh; consequently, we were obliged to spend two hours of more tedious waiting than all that had passed, before we could open our sails to the wind. At length, the boat being hauled up astern, and the tide serving, we again stood out to sea; the captain assuring me that we had still sufficient time to reach Berbische by sunset. Knowing her talent for sailing, I had strong doubts of this; but did not deem it wise to discourage the commander by condemning his vessel.

The wind was not in our favor, and on my first venturing to ask how we proceeded, I learned that we were about half a league _further from port_ than when we were lying at anchor. Still I was enough a sailor to have this explained to my satisfaction, by the observation that it was necessary to _stand well out_, in order to _fetch the river upon the next tack_. But very soon after, on attempting to _bring the vessel about_, new perplexities arose. The Voltigeur disobeyed the helm, and would not _veer to the wind_. In the sailor’s language, she would neither _tack nor wear_, but remained fixed like a log upon the water. I stood equally fixed, observing all that passed, without hazarding a syllable of remark; for, however bad a vessel may be, and however much her captain may abuse her, himself, still every commander is so tenacious regarding the ship under his direction, that it were treason for any other person to speak of her as a slow sailer.

The poor captain now stamped and swore worse than ever; and I had a full opportunity of hearing the whole catalogue of vulgar sea oaths, delivered in the broadest creole dialect. He reviled the vessel’s eyes, her heart, and her sides; uttered dreadful curses upon her head, her soul, and her liver; and after loading her with all the horrid imprecations that vulgar rage could invent, he completed the climax, by exclaiming to the sailors “_Da-amm her, cut her old throat, da-amm her!_”

After much exertion, and a varied repetition of oaths, and enraged stampings upon the deck, the vessel was brought about, and we stood in for the shore, sailing for a short time in steady approach to the river; but within less than half an hour, the bright prospect, which had so recently opened to us, was again obscured, by the Voltigeur striking upon the mud, and being nearly fixed aground. Fortunately she _went about_ on this tack, with greater facility than the other, and hence, by putting her round, she was soon set afloat again: but it was now necessary to stand away, and make a long reach, from the shore, in order to get into deep water. This would necessarily delay our arrival; still the captain insisted that we should reach Berbische at night. But upon my next inquiry respecting our progress I found that this was not very probable, for we were then _six miles further off_ than when the boat came to us in the morning.

Soon afterwards all hands were summoned and “_about_, _about_,” re-echoed throughout the sloop. But the obstinate Voltigeur again resisted. She had a sad antipathy to the Berbische river, and on their attempting to tack for the shore, she refused to turn her head that way. The poor captain, who had cautiously stationed every man at his post, and prepared, with all due care, for putting her about, grew almost frantic. He stamped and raved, and swore with all the bitterness of unbridled wrath: and, having gone through his whole volume of oaths, he threw himself down, exhausted by his exertions and his fury, exclaiming, “_Dammee if we shall get in to-night, for she’ll neither wag one way nor t’other._” For this I was not unprepared, my expectations having been long of accord with the information; and although the epithets of old, rotten and leaky, used by the enraged captain, were, from all appearance, very correctly true, I was grown too resigned, or too callous to all the ills of my situation, to experience any feelings of alarm respecting our safety.

After some delay the vessel did _come about_, and we again _stood on_, boldly, for the land, making all possible sail, the master and his crew not despairing of being able to reach Berbische by night. But, as if the very fates had combined with the elements, to throw every obstacle in the way of our passage, the breeze suddenly dropped, and we were beset in a calm! Against this impediment neither the rage of the commander, nor the exertions of the sailors could aught avail. The captain, who had already opened his whole store of imprecations, was about to repeat them with manful energy, but, recollecting himself, he bestowed one round curse upon the wind and the passage, and as a closing exclamation cried out—“_Da-amm the old tub, it is not her fault neither—there is not a thimbleful of wind! Dammee if we shall get in this week!_”

Thus ended the sailing of the day, and we again let go our anchor for the night. The poor harassed man now became more tranquil, and I took courage to address him in conversation, when I learned, that after all the fatigue and exertions of the day, we were further from Berbische than we had been the preceding night; but that we had the advantage of lying in deeper water, and, consequently, were better situated for availing ourselves of the morning breeze.

I resumed my hard birth, protected as before, and in nausea, and discomfort, rolled out the tedious hours of night.

The fifth morning of this wretched voyage was serene and clear, and I left my sleepless couch at an early hour to breathe a purer air upon deck; when, upon looking out, I perceived an island not far distant, lying directly in our course. From the sailors I learned that it was within the mouth of the river Berbische. This was happy intelligence, and seemed to promise a speedy termination of our eventful voyage. When the captain came upon deck, he greeted me with a broad oath, assuring me that I should breakfast at Fort St. Andrew. I wished it might be so: indeed all seemed now within our reach, and it appeared to be scarcely possible that any new impediment could interrupt the completion of our passage; but the experience we had had was sufficient to create doubts in the mind of the most sanguine, and to temper his warmest expectations to the sobriety of tardy and interrupted accomplishment; or, even, to convince him that the uncertainties of a sea voyage could never end until the foot was again upon _terra firma_.

At seven o’clock we weighed anchor, and immediately made all possible sail, with the island displaying its thick woods, directly ahead of the sloop, and forming a very pleasing object. As we came nearer to it, I observed that it was situated about the middle of the river, and nearly opposite to the landing-place at the fort. All seemed now propitious, and we sailed smoothly on: but we had yet to experience a further trial of patience! An hour had not passed, from the time of our getting under weigh, before our progress was completely arrested by the Voltigeur again striking upon the mud. “_By Heav’ns_,” exclaimed the captain, “_she’s aground! This is worse than ever!_” All his vexations were now cruelly aggravated by the mortification of being seen from the fort; and he ran, stamped, stormed, and cursed in loud bursts of rage, which outdid all his former doings. I felt the less uneasy at this additional delay, from the opportunity it afforded me of contemplating the scene before us: more particularly as the vessel could not suffer any injury from her soft bed, and as we were near enough to reach the shore in the boat, should any accident render it necessary for us to quit the sloop. The best exertions of the crew were of no avail: fixed in the mud we were compelled to let go the anchor, and wait until the flood tide should again set us afloat.

The view before us was that of a wild country, only just opening into cultivation. It comprised an extent of wood and water, with small patches of land breaking into incipient tillage; but it had nothing of the bold and romantic scenery of mountainous regions: the picture was soft and harmonious. We were lying a few miles out at sea, looking directly up the river; the quiet waters of which were gliding, in tranquil stream, to the ocean. No part of the territory of the island was visible, but, from being flat and low, it appeared as a mere cluster of trees, growing out of the water, and causing a pleasant break in the wide opening of the river. On the right was the western shore covered with a continued mass of heavy forest, whose gigantic timbers, gradually elevating their crowded summits from the water’s edge, formed a broad expanse of interminable verdure, which fancy might have easily converted into a green field, of immense extent, gently sloping to the river. On the left was the eastern shore, shaded also with deep forests; but on this side, the river’s bank was partially thinned of its woods, and presented to our view, the fort and batteries, with a wide savanna at the back of them. I gazed in earnest contemplation upon the solemn wildness of the scene, and lamented not the accident which had so peculiarly placed it before me. For a moment my mind was abstracted from every thing more immediately around me, and I was totally absorbed amidst these vast and unbounded forests. But my attention was quickly diverted from these endless woods, by a loud cry of “_All hands to heave the anchor_.” The tide had supplied us with water to float the sloop, and we lost no time in attempting to escape from our muddy birth.

The vessel now stood directly into the mouth of the river, and, being careful to keep the middle of the stream, we again felt secure of our passage. But the fates had not yet filled their page. Before we had time to reach the fort the wind dropped, and, from the vessel disobeying the helm, we again drifted aground. This was worse than all: and the poor captain now swore that “_the very devil himself must have set his spell upon the vessel_!”

We were again compelled to let go the anchor, in order to wait the return of the breeze. Being near to the island and the fort, I might have gone on shore in the boat, but could not venture to ask our angry commander to spare any of his men for that purpose. I had often seen him expend his wrath without presuming to interrupt him. It was now increased to frenzy, and he loudly vociferated “_There is some daamm devil in the sloop that’s bringing us this passage, and we must heave overboard, or we shan’t get in this month._” It was perilous to speak to him, for if any thing I might say should chance to cross him, it was not certain but, in the overflowings of his rage, he might fix upon me as the “_Jonas_,” and deem it expedient to take his measures accordingly. At all events it was necessary to keep out of the way, in order not to interrupt him or his men in working the vessel; I therefore remained below, during the high tide of his ravings and stampings, showing my head only at the hatchway, like an unhappy object peeping out between the bars of a prison.

We remained for a considerable time, deep fixed in mud. Luckily the meridian sun brought a fine breeze, and we were once more set afloat, when we were quickly placed alongside the battery at St. Andrew’s fort, and I most gladly jumped on shore, rejoicing in the termination of a voyage which had been harassing and vexatious, beyond all that the most ill-tokened calculation could have anticipated. Never was any poor suffering captive more happy in being released from long confinement, than I was to escape from my noisome abode in the Voltigeur. During four sad long days, and four still more wearisome nights had I been immured in the filthiest of all filthy dungeons, ill, and in a manner without food or support, having only the repetition of bad plantains and water.

I was met at the landing-place by Mr. Mackie, the acting surgeon of the garrison, who kindly conducted me to an apartment, where I could cast off my sea garments, and submit myself to the purifying process of a complete ablution. No person could have wished for my birth on board the wretched Voltigeur: but every one might have envied me the luxury of my bath on leaving it! I cannot tell you how delightful—how grateful it was! It so refreshed, and animated me, that I felt, and certainly was ... _a very different being_!

LETTER XLVI.

Berbische, June 3, 1796.

Fort St. Andrew is situated on the eastern bank of the river Berbische, opposite to the island which graces its entrance. Nothing bearing the semblance of the abode of man is within sight of it: nor is there any way of escaping from it, either on foot, in a carriage, or on horseback; the river being the only private path, and the only public road. At the back of the fort is an extensive savanna, giving habitation to loud-roaring frogs, also to enormous snakes, alligators, and other reptiles. This naked waste stretches to a great distance, and is bordered by dark forests, which reach near to the fort, and preclude every view except of the water and the flat uncultivated savanna. In these woods wild Indians range in all the freedom of nature. Sometimes also tigers are seen prowling from their deep shades; and our ears are daily and almost hourly saluted with the loud chattering of monkies, the louder screaming of parrots, and the confused noise of numerous other inhabitants.

The fort is calculated for the accommodation of between two and three hundred men. The territory attached to it scarcely reaches beyond the buildings, and the whole garrison is confined to a circle of less than half a mile; the sole promenade, without the gates, being from the barrack to the hospital, and back from the hospital to the barrack, a distance of little more than a hundred yards. A short path has, indeed, been opened into the savanna, which forms a very limited walk, in the dry season, only. A few of the government negroes, who are employed at the fort, have constructed small huts at the back of the hospital, which call to my remembrance the cottagers’ cabins in the Highlands of Scotland. At these habitations, we sometimes witness the joyous dance, and have our ears regaled with the sound of the rude African drum, the rattle, and the banjar.

Beyond the immediate precincts of the fort we do not find any human abode, without making a journey of, at least, a mile and a half by water. At that distance is now forming the town of Amsterdam, the new capital of the colony. Between the fort and the town the river Kannye opens into the great Berbische river; and between the Kannye and the fort, the border of the parent river is still covered with the wild woods: but these are doomed to the axe, and soon a road will be opened upon the bank of the river Berbische to the river Kannye, and from the opposite shore of that river to the town. This will be a great, and desirable improvement. It will at once relieve the gloominess of the situation, and scenery of the fort, form a convenient promenade, for horse and foot, and remove the dull solitude of the garrison, by establishing a more easy intercourse with the capital.

The town is yet in embryo. According to a plan formed for its construction it is to be built upon the angle, or peninsula, between the rivers Berbische and Kannye, extending along the bank of the former. The land on which it is to be erected is in part cleared of its wood, and divided into lots ready for building; but, at present, only here and there a scattered house is to be seen. Beyond the prepared land, and not half a mile from the government-house, the Bush still overhangs the river Kannye; but those destructive engines fire and the axe are now directed against it.

The whole scenery at New Amsterdam, as well as at Fort St. Andrew, betrays the infant state of the colony. The dreariness of the land, just robbed of its thick woods; the nakedness that prevails around the government-house; the want of roads and paths; the swampy savanna; the heavy forests; in short all that meets the eye conveys the idea of a country just emerging from its original rudeness, into cultivation.

Since my arrival in this colony my hours have been busily occupied in attending the sick, and establishing regulations and arrangements for their accommodation. We have a garrison-hospital, built by the Dutch, which is tolerably commodious, and, with a few alterations, may serve for the present garrison. The Hollanders, without any regard to climate, had preserved their European custom of placing the sick, two or three together, in a species of box, with high enclosed sides, instead of keeping them apart, and giving them the advantages of air and cleanliness, by putting them upon open bedsteads.

I have directed that all these confined and offensive bed-boxes should be removed, and have given orders to have some bedsteads made upon a new construction, which I trust will prove both convenient and comfortable. They will consist merely of four short posts, those at the top a little longer than those at the bottom, and two side-rails, fitted together with wooden pins, and so contrived as to be easily taken to pieces, and packed in a portable form, in case we should at any time wish to remove them. They will be made of mahogany, a wood which is so plentiful in these colonies as to be used for every common purpose. A piece of strong canvass, stretched from side to side, will form the bedding; a head-board will slide into grooves in the two upper posts, and the side-rails will move up and down in an opening cut through them, and be fastened with pins, so as to be at any time raised or lowered at the head, without disturbing the patient. When these shall be finished, I hope to see a very complete hospital. The unfortunate sick will have the comfort of being well lodged; each will have his mahogany bedstead to himself; and men, with different maladies, will not be crowded together in filthy boxes, nor shut up from the refreshing air.