Part 3

On the 29th instant it blew a perfect hurricane; like what we read of as, sometimes, happening in other regions, but unlike all that we are accustomed to witness in England.

The houses were shaken, to a dangerous degree, by the excessive force of the tempest. The loud ocean rolled, and broke, in tremendous mountains, on the shore. Many of the ships were driven from their anchors; some were dismasted; others cast away; and boats, set loose by the storm, were swallowed up by the troubled waters, and afterwards returned, by the expelling throes of the sea, upon dry land.

The hollow sound of the wind, and the heavy beatings of the hail and rain, through the thick forest of shipping lying in the harbour, together with the frightful dashings of the sea, and the violent motion of the vessels, upon its restless surface, all combined to render the scene greatly awful; but too high a degree of the terrific was intermixed with it, for the spectator to regard its grandeur and sublimity in quiet contemplation. To convey any just idea of it would require the pen of a Milton, or a Shakespeare.

Great and general alarm prevailed, especially among the lower orders of people; in whose minds a fearful association was excited, which carried them, infinitely, beyond the probable injuries to be expected. They ran into the remotest corners of their houses, fearing that some dreadful visitation of the Almighty was upon them, and that He, in his wrath, was about to punish their sins, by the destruction of the town, and its wicked inhabitants. Nothing was heard but the howlings of the tempest. In all other respects a dreary stillness reigned. No living thing was seen upon the streets; and all around seemed hushed in the silent pause of consternation.

When the violence of the storm had a little abated, and the rays of light began to issue through the broken clouds, the trembling multitude ventured forth, and, assembling in groups at the door-ways, relieved their apprehensions by relating them to each other, in the restored comfort of mutual intercourse. At this moment I could not but remark the striking effect of the social principle, that great and leading feature of our nature. If these people had remained alone, shut up in their hiding-places, their sense of alarm would have probably continued much longer; but they derived manifest relief from communicating with each other; and the very act of relating their fears insensibly dispelled them.

The injuries done were less than might have been expected. Some of the ships and boats necessarily suffered; a few houses were unroofed; and, amidst the devastation, the windmill, at Gosport, was blown to the ground. It was, at first, said that many lives were lost; but, happily, we do not find this report confirmed.

LETTER V.

Portsmouth, Nov. 8, 1795.

Out of evil, it is said, sometimes springeth good: and I feel assured that you will agree with me, in considering the adage verified, when I tell you, that the repeated delays to which we have been subjected have proved the means of completing our party, by converting our harmonious trio into a still more social quartette: a circumstance which has happened from our having the company of Dr. Cleghorn, who is now arrived, at this place, on his way to join the St. Domingo hospital staff. He is a pleasant, well-informed man, brother to the professor of anatomy in the University of Dublin, and nephew to the celebrated author on the diseases of Minorca. His society is a great acquisition to us, and we are much gratified in having such an agreeable addition to our party. We now look, more anxiously than ever, to the arrival of the Ulysses, in the hope of being allowed to establish a friendly mess for the voyage.

With our newly arrived comrade we have repeated our visits to the dock-yard, the Haslar hospital, and the Forton prison.

At the prison we met with a striking example of the great vicissitudes to which persons are liable, who are exposed to the hazardous chances of war. Observing among the prisoners, an officer who had lost his right arm, we were led to ask some questions respecting him, when we learned that he was the very lieutenant who took possession of our ship of war the Alexander, at the time she fell into the hands of the French; and that he had, afterwards, been taken in one of the ships captured by Lord Bridport’s fleet, and had lost his arm in the action. Thus the man, who, but a short time ago, rejoiced in victory, is now humbled by defeat, and has the sad mortification of being confined a prisoner, with the loss of a most important limb, and the melancholy prospect of being a cripple throughout the remainder of his life.

LETTER VI.

Spithead, Nov. 12.

Greetings from the Ulysses! Our suspense is, at length, relieved. The day after I last wrote to you, our long-looked-for Ulysses arrived, with a fleet from the Downs, and yesterday, Doctors Henderson, Master, Cleghorn, and myself, took our births on board, finding Master’s and my baggage stowed in safety.

We left Portsmouth amidst a great scene of hurry and confusion, in consequence of a report having prevailed, on the arrival of the fleet from the Downs, that every ship, belonging to the expedition, was to sail, without further delay; those of the Leeward Island division for Barbadoes, and those of the St. Domingo division for Cork. The transports, with troops from Southampton, happening to drop down the river at the same time, to rendezvous at the Mother-bank and Spithead, seemed to confirm the report; and suddenly, all was converted into extreme hurry and activity. Multitudes, both from the newly arrived ships, and from those which had been long waiting, thronged on shore to purchase provisions and stores, to complete their stock for the voyage. Many, who had passed their hours of suspense in the town, had also their marketings to make; and hence the demand becoming, suddenly, greater than the supply, it introduced all the confusion of a general scramble. Each seized upon whatever provisions he could find, asking no questions, but paying any money that was demanded.

Not aware of the tumultuous pressure of such a moment, and considering ours to be only a short passage, we had, purposely, delayed purchasing our meat, bread, and other fresh provisions, until we should be certain that the ship, in which we were to make the voyage, was arrived. But, should we proceed to sea, immediately, and the voyage be at all protracted, we shall be reduced, by this neglect, to salt food, and the ship’s allowance; for, we were unable to obtain what we wished, and were compelled to repair on board with a very deficient supply.

All the butchers’ and bakers’ shops were quickly emptied. Not a loaf, nor a bit of meat, not even a carrot, or a cabbage remained, and many went empty away. Neither porters nor servants were required; every one who was successful enough to put his hand upon any provisions, gladly became the bearer of his own load. To shew you the extremity to which we were reduced, I may tell you that our party stopped a man, upon the street, who was carrying home a large giblet pie, hot from the oven, which we tempted him to let us take on board, by offering for the pie and the dish, more than double their value; or whatever money he might demand.

To an unconcerned spectator it must have been a most ludicrous and diverting scene, and such as might have afforded full scope to the all-animating pencil of Hogarth. We were too intimately associated in what was passing, to view it only with an eye of amusement. Still I could not but remark the oddity of the assemblage, and the varied expression of countenance, as actuated by hope, joy, disappointment, hurry, and anxiety. Military and naval officers, passengers, servants, soldiers, sailors, boys, women, and negroes, all crowded together upon the streets, formed one heterogeneous mass—one great and motley group, of which every part was in busy motion; each person feeling the apprehension of being left behind.

From the multitudes of anxious heavy-laden individuals who were seen running with their burdens down to the boats, and scrambling to embark, it might have appeared to a stranger, that the inhabitants of Portsmouth were making one great effort to carry off all the provisions, stores, and furniture of the town, before evacuating it to the possession of an enemy. One hurried off with legs and shoulders of mutton, another with half a sheep, a third with a huge piece of beef, and others with different joints of veal or pork. Here was a man running with a cheese, there one with a sugar-loaf. Others were scampering away loaded with rice, or papers of groceries. Some ran off with bags of bread, some with baskets of greens, potatoes, carrots, turnips, and the like. Many were seen bending under heavy bundles of clothes, wet from the wash; others loaded with camp-stools, deal boxes, sea-coffers, pewter utensils, and various other kinds of stores; and, amidst the throng, ourselves with the smoking giblet pie, and such other provisions as we had been able to procure. Every one was upon the alert. Necessity made all industrious, and, without any idle or scrupulous objections, each was glad to minister to his own wants.

Such was the state in which we left Portsmouth, after a residence of three weeks, during which time we had regarded it as a dull inanimate place; but the change was sudden, and will be only transient: the hurry and tumult will vanish with the sailing of the fleet, and the town will relapse into its tranquil sameness, until the recurrence of a similar occasion.

Let me return with you to the Ulysses, and tell you, that upon reaching the ship, we had so anxiously looked for, we were received as people unknown and unregarded, conducted into a large ward-room, strewed with various kinds of lumber, and there left, as in a wilderness. No births had been prepared, nor any kind of arrangement made for us. Not a cot was slung; nor any sleeping-place allotted. The ward-room was open to all, and was to serve for the whole of the passengers. We were turned in loose, with six or eight other persons, and soon found ourselves to be, only, individuals of the general herd; the whole flock being left, at large, like sheep in a common fold.

The vessel is commanded by an officer of the navy, and it was no part of his duty to prepare accommodations for passengers whom he neither knew nor expected. She is one of the old forty-four gun frigates, and carries some of her guns as an armed transport. If our ship had been a common transport, or a merchantman, we might have felt enough at home to have demanded all we required, but, from not having been passengers before on board a ship of war, Cleghorn, Master, and myself were quite at a loss how to proceed. Fortunately Henderson is more _au fait_ to these subjects, and from understanding the necessary etiquette, kindly took upon himself the task of meliorating our condition. Having applied, with all due ceremony, to the Governor of our ocean-castle, he soon succeeded in bringing one of the lieutenants to our aid; who, very obligingly, gave immediate directions for bettering our situation, and it was gratifying, beyond all the advantages of personal convenience, to observe with what promptitude his orders were put in execution. The packages, and other incommoding lumber, were quickly removed; and a canvass partition was put up to divide the ward-room into two separate apartments; allotting to us that on the starboard side. Four cots were slung, in a row, over the cannon, and inclosed with another canvass running parallel with the former, throughout the whole length of the ward-room. This formed a general sleeping birth for our mess, allowing to each his appropriate dressing-room between the several guns; and, thus, we were speedily furnished with five distinct apartments, viz. a long narrow dining-room, and, as we were assured, four _excellent_ bed-rooms.

We were both amused and gratified in observing the expertness of the ship’s carpenters, and all the men employed upon this occasion; and it afforded us great pleasure to remark how prompt and obedient they were in executing the commands of their officers. On board a transport, or a merchantman, several days would have been expended, in preparing what was here completed in a single hour.

As we are only fresh-water sailors, it was hinted, for our information, that the aft, or sternmost cot, being the upper birth on the starboard side, was deemed the place of honor, and hence appropriated to the use of the captain, when the officers sleep in the ward-room. My ambition did not lead me to contend for this sickening post of honor, therefore, in obedience to my poor nauseated stomach, I begged permission to take the lowest cot of the four, and am accordingly indulged with the birth nearest the centre of the ship, where I lie with my three comrades, in a row, behind me. In balance for this accommodation I find that at each movement of the ship, or the cot, my feet are struck against the bulk-head at the bottom of the ward-room; I am bumped upon the huge cannon standing under me; or have Dr. Cleghorn’s feet roughly presented to my head.

LETTER VII.

H. M. S. Ulysses, Nov. 15.

The long-expected day is at length arrived: the signal of departure being given, all the ships of the Leeward Island division weighed anchor this morning, and put to sea under a most favorable breeze. The Ulysses being left to wait the sailing of the convoy for Cork, we remained spectators, and had every opportunity of enjoying the splendid and animating scene. The day was fine, and the wind steady. On passing round, or, to use the sailors’ term, doubling the point of the Isle of Wight, all the ships appeared to fall into regular succession, forming a line of seemingly endless extent, each elevating her sails, into view, over the territory of the island, as if they were contending which should be longest seen.

It was a pleasing spectacle to every beholder, and those who felt as Englishmen ought, derived, from it, sensations peculiarly grateful. To witness such a fleet steering from our little island, into the broad ocean, to fight our battles in a far distant country, conveyed ideas of greatness and power, which were calculated to raise a just ambition in every British bosom. The ships of war and transports exceeded two hundred sail. The immense ship, the Commerce de Marseilles, captured at Toulon, is at the head of the convoy, with the admiral, the commander in chief of the army, and nearly a thousand troops on board. It is, currently, reported here that the whole of these, together with the Cork division, are to rendezvous at Barbadoes, and, making that the grand depôt, proceed, from thence, to the attack of various colonies.

For a long time past this vast armament has been expected in the West Indies, and during many tedious weeks has England, almost daily, looked for its departure; but to prepare, and set afloat such a fleet, and such an army, is an undertaking far more difficult than those superficial observers, who are ignorant of the service, are willing to imagine. If it meet with fair winds, and proceed without disaster, or unforeseen delay, it may yet arrive at a good season, and in time, perhaps, to effect all its intended operations.

We were, yesterday, regaled with the loud treat of hearing the ship’s cannon fired, whilst we were on board. Every thing was cleared away, as if preparing for action: all the doors and windows were set open, and every precaution used, to prevent injury or accident. We remained in the ward-room during the time of firing the guns in that part of the ship, and endeavoured to be strictly attentive to the effect. It was not unlike a violent stroke of electricity: and, for a moment, we felt stunned with the shock. The jarring concussion conveyed the sensation of the whole ship having shivered asunder, or suddenly burst into atoms; and it seemed a subject of surprize that the ears of the sailors should, ever, become capable of supporting the successive and violent explosions of a hostile engagement. Notwithstanding the precaution of letting down the windows, those of the quarter gallery were shattered to pieces.

As we are to wait for other ships, we may now find an opportunity of adding to the scanty stock of provisions, which we procured amidst the general scramble of embarkation: we hope, also, that our vessel will have time to take in a fresh supply of water; for we have, hitherto, suffered, very severely, from not having any on board but what has been putrid and offensive; and coming to this directly from the shore, has rendered it far worse than if we had been, gradually, compelled to submit to it, after being a long time at sea. To myself, in particular, this is a weighty misfortune, as I have not the common resource of flying to wine and beer, as a relief. We have taken to our aid, both purifiers and filtering stones; and, we are further assured of having our present sufferings compensated upon the passage; for the Thames water, now so offensive, will soon restore itself, and, becoming settled and depurated, will be clear and sweet as we can desire.

With regard to our eating, likewise, ’tis well we are not of the Epicurean school. The many disagreeable smells, and the heaving motion of the ship, have much impaired our appetites; and, if we were over-dainty, we must, literally, starve; for our governor of the galley happens to be fit only to cook for the stomachs of Neptune’s hardiest sons.

As soon as the other vessels shall be ready, the Ulysses, we are told, is to proceed with them to Cowes harbour, to join the St. Domingo division. It is probable, therefore, that my next letter may be addressed to you from Ireland.

LETTER VIII.

Spithead, Nov. 19.

When, in my last, I mentioned to you the splendid sight we had witnessed, in the departure of an important division of our great expedition, I did not anticipate the painful reverse of, thus soon, communicating the unhappy tidings of its return. Pleased as we were at the sailing of this grand fleet, only a few days since; now, we should rejoice, still more, could we see every ship again safe in harbour.

Yesterday we experienced a most tremendous gale, which, from its disastrous effects among the shipping at Spithead, led to very painful apprehensions concerning the fleet which had so lately gone to sea. The wind having shifted to an unfavorable point, and blowing with great violence, it was manifest that the convoy could not proceed; and too evident, that many of the ships must be damaged or lost; and I am sorry to add that we are, already, witnessing the melancholy confirmation of our fears; for the fleet not having cleared the channel, was unable to weather the storm, and, during the whole of this day, different ships have been dropping in at St. Helens, in a sadly disabled state, bringing still worse tidings of those left behind. A storm so violent and destructive has seldom been known in this climate; indeed, many who had been in the West Indies, remarked, that it was scarcely inferior to a tropical hurricane. Even the admiral’s ship was in extreme peril, and, with great difficulty, was supported through the gale. She is now brought back in a much injured condition, being very leaky, and having a considerable depth of water in the hold. So alarming was her situation, during the tempest, that if the boisterous elements had raged only a little longer, she would have, probably, gone to the bottom, with the general, the admiral, and nearly two thousand souls on board.

Multitudes are known to be lost; but the full extent of this sad disaster cannot yet be ascertained, for crippled ships still continue to arrive: it is hoped therefore that some may appear which report leads us not to expect. Among those most despaired of is the Stanley, with some hundreds of troops on board. Of this ship not the slightest intelligence can be learned, from any one yet returned. She is supposed to have gone to the bottom, and all hands to have perished! What a sad and melancholy change! This vast fleet, which had cost so much time, and toil in its equipment; and which, so lately, spread its sails under the fairest prospects, is already defeated, disabled, and brought to ruin! What a striking proof of the weakness of human foresight; and of the uncertainty of all our wisest calculations!

Signals of distress were heard on all quarters. Pieces of masts, cordage, and planks floated by the sides of the Ulysses: all was hurry and alarm around us. Many vessels lying near to us were injured; some, driven from their anchors, drifted on board other ships, or were cast on shore, and, being wrecked, remained, before our eyes, fearful examples of the greater evils to be apprehended from the storm.

Such was the perilous insecurity even of the Ulysses, that although, to use the sea-term, we had _struck our topmasts, and made all snug_, it was deemed expedient to prepare the guns, for the purpose of firing signals of distress.

I was excessively ill; and from the deep rolling, heavy tossings, and the many troubled motions of the ship, was quite unable to support myself upon my legs. Staggering and stumbling I crawled out of the ward-room to the middle of the half-deck, to seek a more central part of the vessel; and, there, clinging to some firm hold, remained, sick and comfortless, to wear out a most distressful day. Afflicted with head-ach, a nauseated stomach, and enfeebled limbs, my contemplations were not of the most consolatory nature. I saw all the evils that were to befal our fleet under their most gloomy colours. I beheld the convoy dispersed; ships struggling in the gale; my fellow-creatures sinking; and the whole expedition discomfited: the mind sympathizing with the sickened frame, all was pictured as one grand scene of destruction.

In the midst of our danger, I could not but notice the strange remarks, and quaint jokes which passed among the sailors, who were, variously, actuated by feelings of indolence, anxiety, or indifference. One of them being called upon deck, and desired to go aloft, to do something that was expedient at the top of the mast, idly crawled up, from below, muttering, “I’d rather be drowned in the sea, dammee, than at the mast head!” another, observing a passenger in a severe fit of vomiting, exclaimed, “Dammee, he’s only sick for want o’grog;” and a third, as if responsive to the other, called out, “Stiff breeze, Jack. He’ll be worse yet! Steward! why don’t you give the gentleman some fat pork——to settle his stomach?”

About five o’clock in the evening the storm began to abate; when torrents of rain lessened the wind, and brought the sailors a respite from the harassing, and perilous duties of the day.