These facts became known to Captain Hamilton, who commanded the British frigate Surprise, cruising on the coast, and that gallant officer conceived the daring design of boarding the Hermione with a portion of his crew, and cutting her out in spite of opposition, while she was lying under the guns of this heavy fortification. Such an enterprise could only have been conceived by a man of unusual intrepidity; but it was planned with a degree of prudence and cool calculation which insured success.

After having well observed the situation of the frigate, Captain Hamilton with one hundred men left the Surprise in boats soon after midnight on the 25th of October, 1800. On approaching the Hermione the alarm was given by the frigate's launch, which, armed with a twenty-four pounder, was rowing guard around the ship. After beating off the launch, Captain Hamilton, at the head of fifty chosen men, armed chiefly with cutlasses, boarded the Hermione on the bows. As soon as he and his bold companions obtained foothold, the boat's crews cut the cables and commenced towing the Hermione into the offing. Thus, while the battle was raging on the ship's decks, she was rapidly towed further from the batteries which had now commenced firing, and nearer to the Surprise, which ship stood close into the harbor.

A bloody contest for the possession of the ship took place on her decks. The Spaniards fought bravely; but the English, forming a front across the main deck after they got possession of the forecastle, drove them aft, where, after a desperate struggle on the quarter-deck or poop, the Dons were all killed or driven overboard. The fight was still continued on the gun-deck, where a dreadful carnage took place; and it was only after an obstinate combat of an hour and a half from the commencement of the action, that the Spaniards called for quarter, being entirely subdued.

In this action the British had no men killed, and only fourteen wounded among whom was Captain Hamilton, who fought boldly at the head of his men. The Spaniards had ninety-seven men wounded, most of them severely, and one hundred and nineteen killed! It would thus seem that while the courage of both parties was about equal, the English had a vast superiority in physical power. The Spaniards, unable to oppose to their fierce enemies other than a feeble resistance, bravely SUBMITTED TO BE KILLED; and the English sailors hacked and hewed them down until they cried for quarter.

The little La Concha, in which I was now embarked, was a dull-sailing vessel with poor accommodations, but crowded with living beings; and when beneath the deck, they were necessarily stowed away in the most miscellaneous manner, resembling herrings packed in a barrel. In addition to the officers and crew, we had about thirty passengers, men, women, and children, exiles from the land of their adoption; driven forth by the hand of power to seek a place of refuge in unknown countries. In this case, there was a great loss of property as well as of comfort, and the future must have presented to this little band of exiles an uninviting picture.

The feelings of people born in any other land than France, would have been deeply affected by such a change; and unavailing regrets, bitter complaints, and gloomy speculations in regard to the future, would have cast a cloud over their spirits, and repressed aught like gayety or cheerfulness during the passage. But our passengers were truly French; and "VIVE LA BAGATELLE" was their motto. Although subjected to many inconveniences during a long and tedious passage, and deprived of comforts to which they had been accustomed, yet without resorting for consolation to the philosophy of the schools, there was no murmuring at their unhappy lot. They seemed not merely contented, but gay; they even made a jest of their misfortunes, indulged in practical jokes, fun, and frolic, and derived amusement from every occurrence which took place.

On this passage, Strictland, who entertained the prejudices of his nation against the French, lost no opportunity to manifest his contempt of the passengers, and commented on their proceedings in a manner ill-natured and unjust.

He more than once exhibited a surliness and incivility in his demeanor, which is supposed to be a prominent feature in the character of a burly Briton; and was far from being a favorite with any of the passengers or the captain. On more than one occasion a misunderstanding occurred between Strictland and myself, and at one time it approached an open rupture.

We were both familiar with Smollet's "Adventures of Roderick Random," and compared ourselves, with our rambles about the world in quest of a living, to the hero of that celebrated work and his faithful friend Strap; with this difference, however, that while each of us applied to himself the part of Roderick, neither was willing to assume the humble character of the honest but simple-minded Strap. In the course of our discussion Strictland lost his temper, and indulged in language towards myself that I was not disposed to pass lightly over. The next morning, the little uninhabited island of Orchilla being in sight, the wind light and the weather pleasant, the boat was launched, and the mate with several passengers, urged by curiosity, embarked, and were pulled ashore by Strictland and myself. While the other parties were rambling about, making investigations, we, more pugnaciously inclined, retired to a short distance from the shore, and prepared to settle all our disputes in a "bout at fisticuffs," an ungentlemanly method of settling a controversy, but one which may afford as much SATISFACTION to the vanquished party as a sword-thrust through the vitals, or pistol bullet in the brain.

After exchanging a few left-handed compliments with no decided result, our pugilistic amusement was interrupted by the unauthorized influence of two of the passengers, who had been searching for shell-fish among the rocks. What the result of the contest would have been I will not venture to conjecture. I was but a tyro in the art, while Strictland prided himself in his scientific skill, and gave an indication of the purity of his tastes by boasting of having once acted in the honorable capacity of bottle-holder to a disciple of the notorious Tom Crib, on a very interesting public occasion.

After we had been about a fortnight on our passage, daily beating to windward in the Caribbean Sea, we were fallen in with by a British sloop-of-war. The sight of this vessel, and a knowledge of her character, caused a sensation throughout the schooner. Doubts were very naturally entertained in regard to the treatment the passengers would receive at the hands of their much-dreaded enemy. They were Frenchmen, and all the property on board was French property; and notwithstanding they sailed under Spanish colors, it was predicted by some, who entertained exaggerated notions of the rapacity of Englishmen and their hatred of the French, that the flag of Spain would not serve as a protection; but that their little property would be seized upon, and themselves detained and confined as prisoners or war. Others, however, cherished a different opinion, and had confidence in that magnanimity which has always been claimed by the English as one of their national attributes.

It was an anxious moment; and a general council of war was held among the passengers on the deck of the schooner, in which, as at a conclave of parrots, few seemed to listen while every one was eager to speak. The consultation, however, produced no result. Indeed, nothing could be done, excepting to wait, and bow submissively to the decrees of the conqueror.

My friend and companion, Strictland, was really in greater jeopardy than either of the Frenchmen. If his name and station had been discovered, he would have found snug quarters during the term of his natural life; nothing could have saved him from impressment. The French passengers, aware of the fact, with the kindest feelings took active measures to prevent such a misfortune. They changed his name, clad him in Frenchified garments, bound a many-colored handkerchief around his head, put a cigarette in his mouth, and cautioned him against replying in his native tongue to questions that might be asked. Thus travestied, it was boldly predicted that he would not be taken for an Englishman.

The sloop-of-war sent a boat alongside, commanded by a lieutenant, who seemed surprised at the singular group by which he was surrounded on reaching the schooner's deck. To his questions, replies were received from a dozen different mouths. He was a pleasant, gentlemanly officer and seemed greatly amused at his reception. At length he inquired for the captain, and on his being pointed out, addressed his questions to him, and repressed the officious interference of others until he received a full explanation of the character of the vessel and the intent of the voyage. The statements of the captain were confirmed by papers and documents, which left no doubt of their truth. The lieutenant, after obtaining all necessary information, returned to the ship to report the result of his visit. He did not tarry long, and when he came back relieved the apprehensions of the passengers by assuring them that the commander of the sloop of war, far from seeking to injure or embarrass them, felt for their misfortunes and would gladly render them any assistance in his power. He then went among the passengers, conversed with them, asked each one his name and country, and took other means to prevent deception. When he came to Strictland, and asked his name, the reply was, "Jean Fourchette," in a bold tone.

"Are you a Frenchman?" asked the officer.

"Yes, SIR," was Strictland's reply, in a most anti-Gallican accent.

The officer stared at him for a moment, but without asking more questions passed on to others.

I felt somewhat apprehensive that the British ship was short-manned, and that the officer might cast a longing look on me, and consider me worthy of serving his "most gracious majesty"; in which case I intended to fall back on my American protection, which I regarded as my richest treasure, and insist upon going to an English prison rather than sling my hammock in a man-of-war. But no questions were asked, as I was looked upon as one of the crew, which, without counting Strictland, consisted of only three individuals; and the idea of reducing that small number by impressment was not entertained.

The officer, before he left the schooner, with great glee communicated to our passengers an important piece of intelligence, which was more gratifying to British than to French ears. A great and decisive battle had been fought at Salamanca, in Spain, between the combined armies under Wellington and the French army under Marmont. It resulted in the signal defeat of the French marshal, who was severely wounded. The officer left some English newspapers on board the schooner containing the details of the battle.

The difficulty which had occurred between Strictland and myself, and which at one time threatened to sever forever all friendly ties, was amicably settled before we arrived at St. Bartholomew. Policy undoubtedly pointed out to the Englishman the importance of continuing our friendly relations while my money lasted; and he apologized in a handsome manner for what I considered his rude and uncivil conduct. Again we became sworn friends and brothers, and resolved that the same fortune, good or evil, should betide us both.

We arrived at St. Bartholomew about the 20th of September, 1812, and landed our passengers in good order, well-conditioned, and in tip-top spirits, after a passage of twenty days.



Chapter XXIV. HARD TIMES IN ST. BARTHOLOMEW

We found the harbor of St. Bartholomew full of vessels belonging to almost every nation. Among them were several American clippers taking in cargo for the United States; also vessels under Swedish colors bound in the same direction. From these facts we anticipated little difficulty in procuring a passage to that country, on whose shores my friend, the young Englishman, as well as myself, was anxious to stand. But, although there were many vessels in port, there were also many sailors; far more than could be provided with employment; men, who by shipwreck or capture, had been set adrift in different parts of the Windward islands, and had flocked to St. Bartholomew with a view to get a passage to "The land of the free and the home of the brave."

Strictland and myself remained in the schooner La Concha a couple of days, until the cargo was discharged, when the French captain, taking me aside, told me he was making arrangements to proceed on a trip to Point Petre, in Guadaloupe, and was desirous I should remain with him as one of the crew on regular wages. But as he positively refused to receive my companion on the same terms, or on any terms whatever, and, moreover, expressed an opinion of his character by no means favorable, and which I believed to be unjust, I declined his proposition as a matter of course.

It now became necessary to seek some abiding place on shore until we could find means of getting from the island. But on inquiry I ascertained that thee expenses of board, even of the humblest character, were so great that our slender resources, the few dollars remained of my single month's pay, would not warrant such an extravagant proceeding as a resort to a boarding house. I convinced Strictland of the importance of the strictest economy in our expenditures; succeeded in persuading a good-natured Swede, who kept a small shop near the careenage, to allow my chest to remain with him a few days, and we undertook to "rough it" as well as we could.

In the morning we usually took a survey of the vessels in the harbor, hoping to find employment of some kind or a chance to leave the island. When hungry, we bought, for a small sum, a loaf of bread and a half dozen small fish, jacks or ballahues, already cooked, of which there was always a bountiful supply for sale about the wharves, and then retiring to the outskirts of the town, seated in the shade of one of the few trees in that neighborhood, we made a hearty and delicious repast. The greatest inconvenience to which we were subjected was a want of water. There was a great scarcity of that "necessary of life" in the island, and a drink of water, when asked for, was frequently refused. More than once, when hard pressed by thirst, I entered a grog shop and paid for a glass of liquor in order to obtain a refreshing draught of the pure element.

At night, after walking through the streets and listening to the gossip of the sailors collected in groups in the streets, we retired to some lonely wharf, and throwing ourselves down on a pile of SOFT pine boards, and gathering our jackets around us, and curtained by the starry canopy of heaven, we slept as soundly and sweetly as if reposing on the most luxurious couch.

But even this cheap mode of lodging was attended with inconveniences. One night a shower of rain came suddenly upon us. This was an event unfrequent and consequently unexpected, and our garments were thoroughly soaked before we could realize our misfortune. As this happened about three o'clock in the morning, there was nothing left but to wait patiently several hours, wet to the skin and shivering in the night air, until our clothing was dried by the rays of the sun and warmth restored to our frames.

One night an unprincipled knave undertook to rob us while we slept. Fortunately for us he began his work with Strictland, and took possession of the few effects which his pockets contained before my companion awoke and gave the alarm. On hearing his cry, I started to my feet and seized the fellow, who, being nearly naked, eluded my grasp and ran. We chased him the length of a street, when he entered an alley and disappeared among a row of dilapidated buildings.

After these events we considered it expedient to change our capacious lodging house for one of more limited dimensions, where we might be screened from a shower and concealed from the prying eyes of a robber. We proceeded the next day in quest of such an accommodation, and after a careful survey of various localities, our labors were crowned with success. We found on the northern side of the harbor an old boat that had been hauled up on the beach and turned bottom upwards. This furnished us with a capital lodging house. We took up our quarters there every night without asking permission of the owner, and were never disturbed in our snug domicile after we laid ourselves down to rest.

It may be asked why I did not apply to the American consul for assistance. The treatment which I received from the agent of our government, when in distress, at Liverpool, created on my mind an unfavorable impression in regard to that class of officials, and the reluctant aid and little encouragement which those of my countrymen met with who applied for advice and assistance to the consul at St. Bartholomew, were calculated to prevent any application on my part. Besides, I had entwined my fortunes with another an Englishman; and we had resolved to partake of weal or woe together.

On more than one occasion I could have procured a passage for myself to my native land if I had been willing to leave Strictland, My "protection," as well as appearance, furnished indisputable evidence that I was an American; but Strictland had no testimony of any kind to offer in favor of his citizenship, and to every application for a passage he received a decided shake of the head, from which there was no appeal.

About this time an excitement prevailed among the web-footed gentry in St. Bartholomew in relation to the impressment of seamen by British authorities. The cruisers on the West India station were deficient in men; and all kinds of stratagems were regarded as justifiable which would be likely to supply the deficiency. British ships and brigs of war were often seen cruising off the harbor of St. Bartholomew, and their boats were sent ashore for intelligence and provisions. It became known to some of the officers that there was a large number of seamen in the town destitute of employment, and a plot was devised to kidnap a few of them, and do them a good turn against their will, by giving them board and lodging gratis, and an opportunity to display their courage by fighting the enemies of Great Britain.

A shrewd and intelligent English office, who could tell a good story and make himself agreeable in a grog shop, disguised in the plain dress of a common sailor, one day got admittance to a knot of these unsuspecting "old salts," and by his liberality and good humor acquired their confidence. Under some plausible pretext he induced a dozen or fifteen Dutchmen, Swedes, Britons, and Yankees to accompany him to a wharf on the opposite side of the harbor, where an alarm or cries for succor could hardly be heard by any of the sailors on shore. Instead of the sport which was expected, they found themselves surrounded by the boat's crew of a man-of-war! After a brief, but unsuccessful struggle, they were all, with the exception of two, hustled into the boat and carried off in triumph on board an English frigate. Those two effected their escape by making good use of their legs, and their account of this most unjustifiable but successful case of man-stealing created a feeling of hatred against the officers of British men-of-war, which manifested itself on several occasions, and was near being attended with serious results.

One pleasant morning, an American clipper brig arrived at St. Bartholomew from the United States. The event was soon known to every person in the island, and caused quite an excitement. When a boat from the brig, with the captain on board, reached the landing-place, a crowd was assembled to hear the news and inquire into the results of the war. Englishmen and Americans met upon the wharf upon the most friendly footing, and jocularly offered bets with each other in regard to the nature of the intelligence brought by this arrival.

The captain stepped on shore and was besieged on every side. "What is the news, captain?" eagerly inquired half a dozen individuals in the same breath.

"Is Canada captured by the Americans?" shouted an undoubted Jonathan, one of those persevering, restless mortals of whom it has been said by a Yankee girl,

"No matter where his home may be, What flag may be unfurled; He'll manage, by some cute device, To whittle through the world!"

"Has there been any naval engagement? Any American frigates taken, hey?" inquired a genuine native of Albion, his eyes sparkling with expectation.

The captain, although thus suddenly surrounded, captured, and taken possession of, seemed more amused than annoyed by these inquisitorial proceedings, and, with a clear voice and a good-humored smile, replied, while the tumult was hushed and every ear expanded to catch the interesting intelligence, "I know of no battles that have been fought on the land or sea; but just before I left New York, intelligence was received that General Hull, the commander of the American forces on the frontiers, had surrendered his whole army to the enemy at Detroit, with all his guns, ammunition, and stores, WITHOUT FIRING A GUN!"

It is impossible to describe the scene which followed the announcement of this unexpected intelligence, the exultation of the British, and the mortification and wrath of the Americans. Hull was stigmatized by his country-men as the basest of cowards. Curses, both loud and deep, were heaped upon his hoary head. Had he been within the grasp of those who listened to the story of his shame, a host of armed Englishmen could not have saved him from the fury of the Yankees.

Occasionally an American privateer was seen in the offing; and the boldness, enterprise, and success of this class of vessels in crippling the commerce of Great Britain among the islands, created astonishment and indignation among the loyal subjects of "his majesty." Rumors were afloat every day sometimes false, but more frequently true of some deed of daring, or destruction of British property, committed in that quarter by American private-armed vessels.

One day, a small drogher arrived from the English island of Antigua, bringing as passengers four or five seamen, the only survivors of a terrible disaster which befell one of those privateers while cruising to the windward of Antigua. One of the men was boatswain of the vessel. The tale which he related was a sad one, and its correctness was confirmed by the deep emotion which the narrator and his shipmates manifested and by the tears they shed.

The captain of the privateer was a man of violent and ungovernable temper and drunken habits. He had a quarrel every day with some of his officers or some of his men; and one Sunday afternoon a wordy contest took place between the captain and his first lieutenant, both being well primed with alcohol. The language and conduct of the insulted officer was such as to provoke the captain to madness. He raged and raved, and at last struck his lieutenant, and gave peremptory orders to "put the rascal in irons."

On hearing this order given, but before it could be executed, the lieutenant seized a loaded pistol. Instead of shooting his brutal commander on the spot, he rushed down the steps into the after part of the vessel, and undoubtedly discharged his weapon among the powder in the magazine! A tremendous explosion followed, which blew the privateer to fragments, scattering the timbers and planks, and the legs, arms, and bodies of the crew, in every direction! The shrieks of the wounded, the struggles of the dying, and the spectacle of horrors which those men witnessed, made a lasting impression on their minds.

After having been on the water a few minutes, almost stunned by the explosion, the boatswain and some of his companions succeeded in constructing a raft from the floating planks; and after days of suffering and exposure, without food, and almost without clothing, the survivors were driven ashore on the island of Antigua, where they were kindly treated, and subsequently sent to St. Bartholomew, with the expectation that they would there find a chance to get to the United States.

Strictland and myself led the vagabond kind of life I have described for a couple of weeks. My purse was gradually growing lighter, and it became evident that we must soon find employment or starve. We formed various plans for improving our condition, neither of which proved practicable when put to the test. One of these was to proceed to Tortola, and join a band of strolling players that were perambulating the islands, and attracting admiration, if not money, by the excellence of their dramatic representations. Strictland, it seemed, besides having been a hanger-on at the "Fives Court," had served occasionally as a supernumerary at Covent Garden Theatre. He could sing almost any one of Dibdin's songs in imitation of Incledon, in a manner to astonish an audience; and he flattered my vanity by assuring me that I should make a decided hit before an intelligent audience as "Young Norval." But this project failed for want of means to carry us to the theatre of action.

One morning, while looking about the wharves, we learned that the brig Gustavus, a vessel under Swedish colors, supposed to belong to St. Bartholomew, was making preparations for a voyage to the United States. We lost no time in finding the captain of the brig, a chuckle-headed, crafty-looking native of Sweden, who had been long a resident of the West Indies. I represented our case in the most forcible language I could command; and already aware that some men will be more likely to do a kind act from motives of self-interest than the promptings of a benevolent heart, I told him we were anxious to proceed to the United states, and if he would promise us the privilege of working our passage, we would go on board forthwith and assist in taking in cargo and getting the brig ready for sea.

The captain listened to my eloquence with a good-natured smile and accepted our offer. He promised us a passage to some port in the United States if we would go on board the brig and work faithfully until she sailed. We abandoned our convenient, I had almost said luxurious lodgings beneath the boat on the beach, and, with my chest and what other baggage we possessed, joyfully transferred our quarters to the forecastle of the brig Gustavus.

We remained on board the brig about a fortnight, faithfully and steadily at work, stowing cargo, repairing and setting up the rigging, and bending sails. We congratulated ourselves, from time to time, on our good fortune in securing such a chance, after so much disappointment and delay.

But one morning I was alarmed at finding Strictland had been suddenly attacked with violent headache and other symptoms of fever. The mate gave him some medicine, but he continued unwell. In the afternoon the captain came on board, and after a conference with the mate, called me to the quarter-deck, and told me my companion was sick; that he did not like sick people; and the sooner I took him ashore, the better for all parties. "The brig," he continued, "is now ready for sea. I can find plenty of my countrymen who will go with me on the terms you offered, and of course I shall not give either of you a passage to America. If I should be overhauled by an English man-of-war while my crew is composed in part of Americans and Englishmen, my vessel will be seized and condemned. Therefore, you had better clear out at once, and take your sick friend along with you."

I was disgusted with the cold-blooded rascality of this man, who could thus, almost without a pretext, violate a solemn obligation when he could no longer be benefitted by its fulfilment.

"As for taking my friend ashore in his present condition," said I, "with no place in which to shelter him, and no means of procuring him medical advice or support, that is out of the question. He must remain where he now is until he recovers from his illness. But I will no longer trouble you with MY presence on board. I will gladly quit your vessel as soon as you pay me for the work I have done during the last fortnight."

"Work!!" said the skipper; "pay! I didn't agree to pay you for your work! You've got your food and lodging for your work. Not one single rix dollar will I pay you besides!" And the skipper kept his word.

After giving him, in very plain language, my opinion of his conduct, I went into the forecastle and had some conversation with Strictland. I found him more comfortable, and told him my determination not to sleep another night on board the brig, but that I would visit him the next morning. I called a boat alongside, and, swelling with indignation, went ashore. I proceeded immediately to an American clipper brig which was ready to sail for a port in the Chesapeake Bay. I represented to the captain the forlorn situation of myself and companion, and urged him to give us a passage to the United States. He listened patiently to my representations, but replied that he had already consented to receive a larger number of his distressed countrymen as passengers than he felt justified in doing, and that he had neither room nor provisions for any additional number. Seeing that I was greatly disappointed at his refusal of my application, he finally told me he would give ME a passage to America if I chose to go, but he would not take my companion. This was reasonable enough; but I could not think of abandoning Strictland, especially while he was sick and destitute, and resolved to forego this opportunity and wait for more propitious times. I was convinced that when I got to the bottom of Fortune's constantly revolving wheel, my circumstances must improve by the revolution, whichever way the wheel might turn.

Fatigued, disappointed, and indignant withal, as soon as the shades of evening fell I proceeded leisurely around the harbor to the beach on the opposite side of the bay, and again took possession of my comfortable lodgings beneath the boat. For hours I lay awake, reflecting on my awkward situation, and striving to devise some practicable means to overcome the difficulties by which I was surrounded.

I awoke at a somewhat late hour the next morning, and heard the unwonted sounds of the wind whistling and howling around my domicile. It was blowing a gale, the beginning of a hurricane. I hastened with eager steps to the other side of the harbor, where I found everything in confusion. The quays were thronged with people, and every man seemed busy. Boats were passing to and from the vessels, freighted with men to render assistance; carrying off cables and anchors, and in some cases, where the cargoes had been discharged, stone ballast, which was hastily thrown on the decks and thence transferred to the hold, fears being entertained that as the hurricane increased, the vessels in port might be forced from their anchors, and wrecked on the rocks at the entrance of the haven, or driven out into the Caribbean Sea.

The vessels were thickly moored, and cables already began to part and anchors to drag. Sloops, schooners, brigs, and ships got foul of each other. The "hardest fend off!" was the cry, and cracking work commenced; and what with the howling of the hurricane gusts as they swept down the mountain side, the angry roar of the short waves, so suddenly conjured up, as they dashed against the bows of the different vessels, the shouting of the seamen mooring or unmooring, the orders, intermingled with fierce oaths and threats, of the masters and mates as they exerted all their energies to avert impending disasters, the crashing of bulwarks, the destruction of cutwaters and bowsprits, and the demolition of spars, a scene of unusual character was displayed, which, to a person not a busy actor, was brim full of interest, and not destitute of sublimity.

The mate of the Gustavus, with a number of men, was employed in carrying off from the shore a cable and anchor, the small bower having parted at the beginning of the gale. The mate represented the situation of the brig as somewhat critical, and urged me to render assistance. Anxious to see Strictland, I acceded to his request. It was not long before we were under the bows of the brig. Men were engaged in carrying out the anchor ahead to haul her away from a cluster of vessels which were making sad havoc with her quarter rails, fashion pieces, and gingerbread work on the stern.

I entered the forecastle, shook hands with Strictland, whose health had greatly improved, with prospect of a speedy recovery, and bade him be of good cheer, that he would be well enough on the morrow. I threw on a chest my jacket and vest, containing what little money still remained on hand, and my "protection," and thus airily equipped, reckless of the clouds of mist and rain which at times enveloped the whole harbor, went on deck and turned to with a will, notwithstanding the scurvy treatment I had received from the captain the day before. When I reached the deck, some of the men were engaged in heaving in the new cable; others were just then called aft by the captain to assist in bearing off a sloop on one quarter and a schooner on the other, and in disengaging the rigging which had caught in the spars. The sloop had the appearance of a wreck. The laniards of the shrouds had been cut away on both sides, and the tall and tapering mast was quivering and bending like a whipstock, from the action of the wind and the waves. One of the cables, it was supposed, had parted; the sails, not having been properly furled, were fluttering and struggling, not altogether in vain, to get loose; and the deck on both sides was filled with shingle ballast, which had been brought from the shore early that morning, in the fear that the sloop might be driven out to sea, and had not been thrown into the hold.

The captain, mate, and crew of the sloop, finding their vessel in such a helpless condition, and entertaining wholesome fears for their own safety, ABANDONED THE SLOOP TO HER FATE, and embarked, with all their baggage, in the last boat that had brought off ballast. But with the last boat there came from the shore a young man, who, as supercargo, had charge of the vessel and cargo. Aware to some extent of the perilous condition of the sloop, he had been actively engaged during the morning in efforts to prepare his vessel to encounter the disasters incident to a hurricane. As he stepped on the deck of the sloop, and before the ballast had all been discharged from the boat, the officers and crew were eager for their departure. The captain urged the supercargo to accompany him on shore, and, when he refused, pointed out the desperate condition of the sloop, assuring him that in a few minutes that vessel, held by a single anchor, would break adrift and be wrecked on the rocks, when probably no individual could be saved.

The name of the supercargo was Bohun, a native of the "Emerald Isle." He peremptorily refused to quit the vessel, saying, as he stamped his foot on the deck, "Here I stand, determined to sink or swim with the sloop."

"Shove off!" exclaimed the captain; "it is useless to parley with a fool!"

At this moment the crew of the Gustavus were summoned aft to disengage the brig from the sloop, and the captain was issuing orders in his most effective style. "Bear off! Why don't you bear off! Cut away the laniards of those shrouds, and clear the main chainwales! Bring an axe here, and cut away that fore-stay which is foul of the main yard!"

Calling now to Bohun, who stood in the forward part of the sloop with a most rueful visage, the captain said, "Why don't you pay out cable, you lubber, and drop astern, clear of the brig?"

Bohun stood near the windlass, and his appearance struck me as being singularly interesting. He was dressed like a gentleman; wore a green frock coat and a white fur hat; but his garments were saturated with rain and the spray. He seemed resolute, nevertheless, and anxious to do something, but he knew not what to do. When roughly accosted by the captain of the brig, he replied, "If you'll send two or three men to help me, I will soon get the sloop clear of your vessel. My men have all deserted, and I can do nothing without assistance."

The captain of the Gustavus shook his head and his fist at the young Irishman, and discharged a double-headed oath at him, within point-blank shot. Nevertheless, Bohun continued, "If you will let me have one man, only ONE man, I may be able to save the sloop."

"One man!" replied the Swedish captain, screaming with passion, "how do you expect me to spare even one man, when my own vessel may strike adrift at any moment? Pay out cable, and be hanged to you! Pay out cable, and drop astern!" And he aimed another ferocious oath at the unfortunate supercargo.

Poor Bohun was no sailor. He hardly knew the difference between the cable and the cathead. He looked the picture of distress, almost of despair. But I, being under no obligations to the brutal captain of the brig, was at liberty to obey the impulse of my feelings. I stepped over the quarter rail, grasped the topmast stay of the sloop, swung myself on the jibboom, and in the space of a few seconds after the captain had concluded his maledictions I was standing on the sloop's forecastle, alongside of Bohun.



Chapter XXV. TREACHERY AND INGRATITUDE

As soon as I reached the deck of the sloop, Bohun eagerly grasped me by the hand. "My good fellow," said he, "tell me what to do, and I will go about it at once; only tell me what to do first."

I cast my eye around, and comprehended in a moment the exact condition of the little vessel. I felt that a great responsibility had suddenly devolved upon me, and I determined to be equal to the task. The sloop, pitching and rolling, and jammed between two much larger vessels, was awkwardly situated, and riding, I supposed, at a single anchor. About half the cable only was payed out; the remainder was coiled on the forecastle, and the end was not secured.

"In the first place," said I, recollecting the scene near Charleston bar, "we will clinch the end of the cable around the mast, and then we can veer out as much as we like, without risk of its running away."

This was soon done, and by veering cable, the sloop dropped astern, until clear of all other vessels. I then found, to my satisfaction, that neither of the cables had parted. It subsequently appeared that the small bower anchor had merely been dropped under foot. By giving a good scope to both cables, the sloop was as likely to ride out the gale, so far as depended on ground tackling, as any vessel in port. The sails, which had been loosed by the force of the wind, were next secured. The foresail was furled in such manner that it could be cast loose and the head of it hoisted at a minute's notice. I greatly feared that some light vessel might be forced from her moorings, and drift athwart our bows, and thus bear the sloop away from her anchors. I therefore got an axe, and placed it by the windlass, with the design of cutting both cables when such an act might be considered necessary for our safety, hoist the head of the foresail, and run out to sea.

In the mean time, the decks were in a deplorable condition, lumbered up with barrels, boxes, and ballast. The supercargo commenced on one side, and myself on the other, to throw the ballast into the hold. The miscellaneous articles were then tumbled down in an unceremonious manner, and the hatchways properly secured. Our attention was now turned to the mast, which had no support on either side, and was in an awkward and uneasy position. Bohun looked at it as it swayed from starboard to port and from port to starboard, and then looked inquiringly at me.

"We can co it!" said I, without hesitation. "Have you any spare rigging on board?"

"Yes, plenty! Down in the forward part of the sloop."

I went below, and found a coil of rope which I believed would answer my purpose. I brought it on deck, and began to reeve laniards for the shrouds. I then procured a handspike and heaver, and went to work setting up the rigging by a "Spanish windlass." I had only once seen an operation of this kind performed; but having closely watched the process, I knew I could perform it successfully. In this matter Bohun rendered me valuable aid. We worked diligently, for we felt that every minute was of importance; and it was not long before the shrouds on both sides were set up, and the mast rendered safe. By the time this work was accomplished and the vessel put in good condition, the forenoon had nearly expired; but the hurricane continued. Several vessels had already been driven from their anchors, and blown broadside on, through the whole length of the harbor, and dashed to pieces against the rocks.

Through the mist and rain I kept a good lookout ahead, lest some of those unfortunate craft should come down upon our little sloop. And at one time, in the middle of the afternoon, I thought the crisis had come, and we should be obliged to go to sea. A large schooner which had been lying snugly at anchor at the extremity of the harbor for months, with no person on board, parted her cable, and was driven by the wind among the vessels already tossing about in that fearful gale, rubbing against one, crushing in the bulwarks of another, and carrying alarm and terror throughout her whole route. This hulk had passed through the great body of the shipping without causing much serious or irremediable damage, and now, broadside to the gale, was rapidly wafted towards the sloop. My heart beat violently, as, axe in hand, I watched her approach.

I raised the axe above my head to give the fatal blow, when I perceived the stern of the schooner swinging round. I dropped the axe, and called upon Bohun to lend me a hand to bear off. The schooner came down almost with the force of an avalanche, cleared the bowsprit, as I anticipated, but struck our larboard bow, swung alongside, caught by our chain-wale for a moment, was freed by a violent gust of wind, dropped astern, and was soon pounding upon the ledges.

Bohun, who had never before been an actor in such scenes, was completely exhausted with excitement and fatigue. He loaned me a pea-jacket, for, after my severe labors, and ablutions in fresh and salt water, I was shivering with cold; and requesting me to keep a good lookout, went below long before the gale abated, and buried his inquietudes in sleep.

The tempest began to diminish in violence soon after the shades of evening fell; but I continued on my watch until nearly midnight, when no longer doubting that the fierce hurricane had exhausted its wrath, I also left the deck, turned into one of the cabin berths, and slept soundly until the sun was above the horizon.

When Bohun came on deck he assured me he felt under great obligations for the assistance I had rendered in saving the sloop from destruction, and would cheerfully make me any compensation in his power. He requested as an additional favor that I would remain by the sloop, as there was valuable property on board, until he could make some necessary arrangements. I gave him my promise. He then called a boat alongside, and proceeded on shore.

I was anxious to visit the Gustavus to inquire about Strictland's health, and consult with him in relation to future proceedings. But there was no boat at this time attached to the sloop; the small boat broke away at the commencement of the gale, and was never afterwards seen; and the long-boat was taken possession of by the dastardly creoles who composed the officers and crew. I knew, however, that Strictland was well provided for, and being determined to visit him at the earliest opportunity, gave myself no further anxiety, but patiently awaited the return of the supercargo. I waited in vain; he did not arrive that day, but about eight o'clock in the evening a boat came off bringing a new captain, mate, and a couple of men. My short-lived reign was at an end! I had tasted the sweets of despotic authority for two delicious days. I was now deposed, and about to be resolved into my original elements.

It was too late to visit Strictland that night; but the next morning after breakfast, I obtained permission from the new captain to use the boat for a short time, and with a light and joyous heart for I was proud of my successful exertions during the gale sculled away for the Gustavus. I stepped gayly on board, and encountered the mate as I passed over the gangway. He greeted me kindly, but expressed surprise at my appearance.

"How is Strictland?" I exclaimed. "Has he entirely recovered?"

"Strictland!" replied the mate. "Have you not seen him? Don't you KNOW where he is?"

"Certainly not," said I, somewhat alarmed at his manner, "if he is not on board the brig!"

"He left the brig this morning," said the mate, "and is now on board that vessel in the offing," pointing to a rakish clipper brig under American colors that was outside the harbor, and seemed to be flying away under a cloud of canvas. "He has taken his chest and everything belonging to you both," continued the mate, seeing my astonishment. "I thought you were with him, and that the whole thing was arranged by mutual agreement."

I was thunderstruck at this intelligence; but after a moment's reflection, I refused to believe it. "It must be a mistake," said I; "Strictland would not go off to America, and leave me here without means or employment. He cannot be so ungrateful."

The mate looked as if he thought such a thing were possible.

"And if he HAS availed himself of a chance to go to the United States, he has undoubtedly left the chest, which is mine, and other property belonging to me where I can easily find it."

"I hope you MAY find it," said the mate dryly, "but I don't believe you will."

I went forward and conversed with the men who had taken Strictland on board the brig, and from them learned the particulars of the transaction. It appeared that Strictland, who had quite recovered his health, on coming on deck that memorable morning, perceived the clipper brig, which two days before I had visited without a successful result, making preparations for immediate departure. He borrowed the boat, and accompanied by one of the crew of the Gustavus, went on board the American brig, where he represented himself to the captain as an American, in great distress, and anxious to get home. He exhibited a "protection," mine undoubtedly, as evidence of his assertions. The tale of his misfortunes, told in eloquent language, albeit it must have smacked strongly of cockney peculiarities, melted the heart of the worthy and unsuspecting sailor, who told him to bring his things on board at once, and he would give him a passage to the United States.

Strictland returned to the Gustavus, gathered together not only everything which belonged to him, but every article of my property besides, not even excepting the garments I had thrown off on the morning of the hurricane. He took with him the money belonging to me which was still unexpended, and also what I regarded as far more valuable than the rest of my property my American protection. He told the crew this was done in pursuance of an arrangement made with me the day previous to the hurricane. He reached the brig with his "plunder" just as the anchor was hauled to the cathead, and the brig was hanging by a single line attached to a neighboring vessel until the topsails were sheeted home. My chest was transferred to the deck of the clipper, and five minutes afterwards the brig was leaving the harbor under full sail, bound home.

It was some time before I could realize the extent of my misfortune, and persuade myself of the melancholy fact that I was a stranger in a foreign port, without friends, while every item of my goods and chattels consisted of an old pair of patched canvas trousers, a checked shirt, and a dilapidated straw hat; I had not even a pair of shoes, a kerchief, a jack-knife, or the value of a stiver in cash.

I stood a moment gazing earnestly at the brig as she was rapidly sinking beneath the horizon. I was more disappointed and shocked at the ingratitude of Strictland than grieved at the loss of my goods and chattels. And when I saw that I had been deceived, cajoled, and swindled by an unprincipled adventurer, so far from rejoicing at such an opportunity to "come out strong," as Mark Tapley would have done under similar circumstances, I could hardly control my indignation. But conscious that my wrongs could neither be remedied nor avenged, I repressed my feelings, and amid the well-meaning condolence of my friends in the Gustavus, entered my boat and returned to the sloop.

I was rejoiced to find Bohun on board. He seized my hand and greeted me with much kindness. His countenance, open, frank, and honest, emboldened me to explain to him my situation. When I had concluded my narrative of facts, "Now," said I, "if you consider yourself indebted to me, and are willing to do me a favor, all I ask is, that you will give me a situation on board this sloop as one of the sailors, until I can find an opportunity to do something better. I shall expect the same rate of wages as others, of course and have also to request that you will advance me a few dollars, with which I can supply myself with some necessary articles of clothing."

Bohun graciously acceded to my wishes, and told me I might henceforth consider myself one of the crew of the sloop. I then ascertained what had hitherto escaped my knowledge, that the sloop was called the "Lapwing" of St. Bartholomew; but really belonged to Mr. Thomas, an opulent merchant residing in St. George, Grenada, and was about to proceed to that port with a cargo of flour and other articles of American produce. Bohun was a clerk with Mr. Thomas; and he assured me that on his representations of my conduct to his employer, and the unfortunate consequences of it to myself, that gentleman would undoubtedly show his appreciation of my services in a manner highly proper and acceptable.

This consideration, however, had no weight with me. All I asked for was employment. I wanted to be placed in a situation where by my labors I could earn my living. This I then regarded as independence; and I have never since seen cause to change that opinion.

As the Lapwing belonged nominally and officially to a Swedish port, it was necessary she should have Swedish officers and in part a Swedish crew. The captain was a tall, stiff-looking man, whose name was Lordick. He was a native of the little island of Saba; and two of the crew belonged to the same place. The mate was a native of St. Bartholomew. All belonging to the sloop were creoles, and assumed to be subjects of the king of Sweden, excepting Bohun and myself; and I had been so much exposed to the sun in that hot climate, that I looked as much like a creole as any person on board.

The island of Saba is in sight of St. Bartholomew a level, precipitous rock, nine miles in circumference, highest in the enter, appearing like a mound rising out of the sea, and covered with no great depth of soil. Saba was first settled by a colony of Dutch from St. Eustatia towards the close of the seventeenth century. It is a place of no trade, having no harbor, and is but little known. It is accessible only on the south side, where there is a narrow, intricate, and artificial path leading from the landing-place to the summit. Frequent rains give growth to fruit and vegetables of large size and superior flavor, which are conveyed to the neighboring islands in open boats and sold. It contained in the early part of the present century about fifty families of whites, and probably double that number of slaves. The chief employment of the inhabitants consisted in cultivating the soil, and raising, besides vegetables and fruit, cotton, which the women spun and manufactured into stockings, of a very delicate fabric, that readily commanded a high price in the neighboring islands. The people, living in a village on the top of a rock between the sky and the sea, enjoy the benefits of both elements without dreading their storms. Indeed, Saba is one of those quiet secluded nooks, which are sometimes unexpectedly discovered in different parts of the world, where the people, generation after generation, live in a sort of primitive simplicity, and pride themselves upon their peculiarities and seclusion from mankind. The traveller in quest of novelties would do well to visit Saba.

In a few days after I became one of the crew of the Lapwing, that vessel was ready for sea. Captain Lordick manifested toward me a friendly feeling; he sympathized with me in my misfortunes; made me a present of some articles, which, although of trifling intrinsic value, were highly useful; and inveighed in severe terms against the villainy of Strictland.

The day before we left port, Captain Lordick called me into the cabin. "Hawser," said he, "you are an American, but you have no evidence of that fact. The trading vessels among the islands are often boarded by English men-of-war, with a view to get men to supply a deficiency in their crews. If an Englishman is found, he is sure to be impressed. As you have no "protection," and the burden of proof lies with you, you will be regarded as an Englishman, a proper person to serve the king of Great Britain. Even if you state the truth, and claim to be an American, there will be no means of escape from this terrible species of servitude. I have a plan to propose, which may save you from the clutches of John Bull. The natives of St. Bartholomew, and also of Saba, which is a dependency on Holland, are exempted from impressment, provided they can exhibit proofs of their citizenship. Therefore every sailor belonging to those islands is provided with a document, called a 'burgher's brief,' which, like an American protection, gives a minute description of the person of the bearer, and is signed and sealed by the official authorities. Now, Hawser," continued the generous creole, "I had a younger brother who died of yellow fever in St. Kitts some six months ago. He was about your age, and resembled you in appearance. His 'burgher's brief,' as a citizen of St. Bartholomew, is now in my possession. Therefore you shall no longer be a citizen of the United States, but a native of Saba. I assure you there are very good people in Saba; and your name is no longer Hawser Martingale, but John Lordick; remember this; I shall so enter your name in the ship's papers.

The captain's reasons for a change in my identity were powerful. Besides, a "purser's name" was a common thing among sailors. And although I felt unwilling to forego my claim to American citizenship, even for a brief period, I convinced myself that no evil to anyone, but much good to myself, would be likely to result from such a course. Expediency is a powerful casuist; the captain's kindness also touched my heart, and conquering an instinctive repugnance to sacrifice the truth under any circumstances, I rashly told him that in accordance with his suggestion, I would adopt the name of his brother for a short time, and endeavor not to disgrace it.

"I have no fear that you will," said he.



Chapter XXVI. COASTING AMONG THE ISLANDS

We left St. Bartholomew in the Lapwing and proceeded on our way towards Grenada. I was treated with kindness by every person in the sloop, and found my situation far more agreeable than when loafing and vagabondizing about the wharves.

Mr. Bohun was a light-hearted young man, intelligent, high-spirited, and impulsive. He conversed with me about the events of the war, and speculated freely in relation to the future. He spoke of the defeat of General Hull as an event which might have been expected. When I expressed an opinion that our national vessels would be more successful on the sea, he appeared amused, laboring under the error which was universal among the British at that time, that an American frigate of the first class could hardly be considered a match for an English sloop-of-war.

I spoke of the action between the President and the Little Belt, where one broadside, fired through mistake by the American frigate, transformed the proud and defiant sloop-of-war into a sinking wreck. But my argumentative fact was met by a reference to the unfortunate affair between the Leopard and the Chesapeake. I urged that the Chesapeake, although rated and officered and manned as a frigate, was merely an armed STORE-SHIP carrying out supplies in a time of peace to our ships in the Mediterranean. But Bohun, like every other Briton I have met with, would not admit the efficiency of the excuse. I next recurred to the Tripolitan war, and alluded to the many deeds of daring performed by my gallant countrymen. But Bohun contended that their feats of valor in a war against barbarians could not be regarded as a test of their ability to battle on equal terms against the most accomplished seamen in the world. Bohun said that the Shannon and the Guerriere, two of the finest frigates in the English navy, had recently been fitted out and ordered to cruise on the American coast, with the expectation that a single-handed contest between one of these vessels and an American frigate of the first class would humble the pride of the Yankees, and decide the question of superiority. I could only reply that I hoped the meeting would soon take place, and when it did, he would be as much astonished as I should be gratified at the result.

The next morning after the above conversation, we were passing along the westerly side of the island of Dominica, and Mr. Bohun expressed a wish to touch at Rosseau, the principal port in the island, in order to obtain some desirable information. When off the mouth of the harbor, orders were given for the sloop to lie off and on, while the supercargo was conveyed on shore in the yawl, pulled by one of my Saba countrymen and myself. On reaching a landing place, Bohun directed us to remain by the boat until he should return, which would be in the course of half an hour, and tripped gayly up the wharf.

The town of Rosseau is pleasantly situated in a valley near the seashore. The harbor is little better than an open roadstead, and is defended by strong fortifications overhanging the city. The town has been three times destroyed; once by an inundation from the mountains after heavy rains which swept away many of the dwellings and caused the death of numerous inhabitants. Some ten or twenty years afterwards, when the town had been rebuilt, a destructive fire raged through the place, laid it in ashes, and destroyed an immense deal of property. A third time it was destroyed ay a furious hurricane, when nearly all the houses were demolished or unroofed, and hundreds of the inhabitants were killed or seriously wounded. Having thus been at different times a victim to the rage of three of the elements, air, fire, and water, many were led to believe that the final destruction of the place would be caused by an earthquake.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when Bohun came down to the boat, having been absent between three and four hours. His countenance was lighted up with a smile of gayety, and his eyes sparkled as if he had joyful news to communicate.

"Well, John," he shouted as he came within hail, "there has been an arrival from Halifax, and a piece of important intelligence has been received."

"Indeed, sir," said I, with a faltering voice, as from his cheerful bearing I anticipated unfavorable tidings; "what is the character of the news?"

"A desperate battle has been fought between the British frigate Guerriere, and the American frigate Constitution. What do you think of that?" added he, with a light laugh.

"Which gained the victory, sir?" said I, almost afraid to make the inquiry.

"One of the frigates," said he, without replying to my question, "was thoroughly whipped in short order and in handsome style, dismasted and sunk, with one half of her crew killed and wounded, while the injury the other received was hardly worth mentioning. Which do YOU think gained the day?"

"The American frigate, of course," said I. "You are right, John," exclaimed Bohun with a laugh. "THE CONSTITUTION HAS SUNK THE GUERRIERE. Brother Jonathan is looking up. He is a worthy descendant of John Bull. I find you understand the character of your sailors better than I do."

After having imparted this interesting piece of intelligence, and telling my shipmate and myself to remain by the boat until he should return, which would be in a few minutes, he again walked nimbly up the street, and was soon lost to sight.

As in duty bound we remained at the wharf in expectation of the return of Bohun, but hour after hour passed and he did not return. He was "enjoying life" among some boon companions, and over a decanter of good wine, as he afterwards acknowledged, lost for a time all recollection of the existence not only of the boat, but also of the sloop.

When the company broke up about nine o'clock in the evening, he came staggering down the wharf, rolled himself into the stern seats of the boat, and ordered us to shove off and pull towards the sloop. We represented to him that the night was dark and cloudy, and it would be next to an impossibility to find the sloop in the broad bay at that hour; that the attempt would be attended with risk, and consequently it would be wiser to wait until morning before we left the quay.

Our remonstrances were of no avail. He insisted on going off immediately. Nothing, he said, would induce him to wait until morning; he knew exactly where to find the sloop, and could steer the boat directly alongside.

It was useless to argue with him, and we dared not disobey his orders. The motto of Jack, like the submissive response of a Mussulman to an Eastern caliph, is "To hear is to obey." We left the wharf and pulled briskly out of the harbor. But no sloop was to be seen. We stopped for a moment to reconnoitre, but Bohun told us to keep pulling; it was all right; we were going directly towards her. In a few minutes he dropped the tiller and sank down in the bottom of the boat, where he lay coiled up like a hedgehog, oblivious to all that was passing around him.

By this time we were broad off in the bay; the lights in the town glimmered in the distance, the stars shone occasionally through the broken clouds, the wind was light, and the sea comparatively smooth. On consultation with my shipmate, we came to the conclusion it was hardly worth while to pull the boat about in different directions on a bootless quest after the sloop. We also rejected the idea of returning to the town. We laid in our oars, composed ourselves as comfortably as we could beneath the thwarts, and with clear consciences resigned ourselves to sleep.

We must have slept for hours when we were awakened by an unpleasant and alarming noise. It was some minutes before we could recollect ourselves and ascertain the cause of the hubbub. It proved to be the roaring of the wind, the pattering of the rain, and the angry dash of the waves. While we slept a severe squall had been gradually concocted among the mountains, and now burst upon us in all its fury. How long the wind had been blowing we did not know; but we did know we were some miles out to sea in a cockle-shell of a boat, and rapidly drifting farther from the land. No lights could be seen in any quarter; but all around was dark and drear. We supposed that as a matter of course the wind blew from the land, and therefore got out our oars and pulled dead to windward, thus preventing further drift, and lessening our danger by laying the boat head to the sea, which was now rapidly rising.

The squall continued for an hour after we were conscious of its existence; we were thoroughly drenched, but exercise kept us warm; while Bohun still maintained his snug position beneath the stern seats in a happy state of unconsciousness of the jarring of the elements and the peril to which he was exposed. The first streaks of dawn were hailed with delight, and at broad daylight we beheld the sloop, which had been driven to leeward during the night; and although eight or ten miles from the land, she was not more than a couple of miles to windward of the boat, and beating up towards the harbor. We awakened Bohun, whose garments were saturated by the shower, and who seemed greatly amused with our account of the night's adventure. The wind was fortunately light, and by dint of hard rowing, we soon got near enough to the Lapwing to make signals, and were recognized. The sloop then bore away and ran down, and we were truly rejoiced, fatigued, wet, hungry as we were, to stand again upon the deck.

Proceeding along to leeward of Martinico and St. Lucia, we came to St. Vincent, an island about twenty miles in length from north to south, which was chiefly remarkable at that time as being the only abiding place of the once numerous and warlike tribe of the Caribs, who inhabited the Windward Islands when the American continent was discovered, and were doomed, like all other tribes of their race, to wilt and die beneath the sun of civilization.

The Caribs, although described by historians as fierce and unpitying cannibals of the lowest grade of human organization, undoubtedly possessed moral and intellectual faculties by no means inferior to the great body of American Indians; but, like the tribe of savages which inhabited the island of Hispaniola, and other tribes on the continent, they observed the custom of flattening their heads, which gave to their features an unnatural and sinister expression, by no means calculated to gain the good will and confidence of strangers. The head was squeezed, soon after birth, between two boards, applied before and behind, which made the front and back part of the head resemble two sides of a square. This custom is still retained among the Caribs of St. Vincent.

The flattening of the head among the natives of Hispaniola was performed in a different manner, and produced a different effect. The forehead only was depressed, almost annihilating the facial angle, and swelling the back part of the head out of all proportion. The early Spanish settlers complained of this savage custom, as subjecting them to much inconvenience. In the course of their HUMANE experiments, they ascertained that, owing to the thickening of the back part of the cranium caused by this process, the broadsword of the strongest cavalier could not cleave the skull at a single blow, but would often snap off in the middle without serious damage to the owner of the cranium!

When I passed along the shores of the island of St. Vincent, in 1810, I was particularly struck with the wild and uncultivated appearance of the northern section, a huge mountain, or combination of mountains, rudely precipitous, covered with luxuriant vegetation even to the summit, but containing deep chasms or gorges, down which sparkling streams were rushing, forming numerous waterfalls, and all constituting a wild, picturesque, and attractive landscape.

When I passed St. Vincent in the Lapwing, in October, 1812, a mighty change had taken place. Every trace of vegetation had vanished from this part of the island; not a tree or a shrub remained. The rivers were dried up, and even the deep and dark chasms and gorges no longer existed. Cinders and ashes covered the mountain sides, and beds of lava were pouring down from the summit, and hissing as they entered the ocean. On the 30th of April, about one month after the terrible earthquake by which the city of Caraccas, three hundred and sixty miles distant, was destroyed, and twelve thousand of the inhabitants buried in the ruins, an eruption took place from an old crater on the summit of this mountain in St. Vincent, at which for more than a century had shown no symptom of life. The eruption was sudden and over whelming. Stones and ashes were scattered over the island; vessels more than a hundred miles to the eastward had their decks covered with cinders, and the crews were terrified at the noises which attended this fierce ebullition of the warring elements beneath the earth's surface. At St. Bartholomew, distant from St. Vincent about three hundred miles, the explosions were distinctly heard, and through the whole night were so continuous and loud as to resemble a heavy cannonading from hostile fleets. Indeed, it was believed for several days that a desperate action between English and French squadrons had been fought within the distance of a few miles. By this eruption the vegetation on the north part of the island, comprising one third of the whole territory, was destroyed, and the soil rendered sterile, being covered to a great depth with cinders and ashes. All the lands in the immediate vicinity were also rendered unfit for cultivation. What is remarkable, but few lives were lost. The unfortunate Caribs, however, who comprised about one hundred families, dwelt in this ungenial and unproductive district, and were driven from their homes to find elsewhere and nearer to the habitations of the whites, some desolate spot, shunned by all others, where they could again set up their household gods.

Proceeding past St. Vincent we came to the Grenadines, a cluster of small islands and rocks lying between St. Vincent and Grenada; two of which only, Bequia and Curriacou, are of any importance. These two islands are fertile, and produce a considerable quantity of cotton. Others, although small, are cultivated; and the isle of Rhoude, which lies within a few miles of Grenada, is in itself a large cotton plantation. One of these islets, or, more properly speaking, isolated rocks, lying not far from the shores of Grenada, and at a distance from the cluster is remarkable as having been the scene of an event which tradition seems to have carefully, if not faithfully, recorded. In the obstinate wars between France and Holland, in the middle of the eighteenth century, a Dutch frigate, commanded by a burly and brave officer, a genuine fire-eater, especially when he had his "schnapps" on board, was cruising under the lee of Grenada, and fell in with a large ship, to which the frigate gave chase. The ship answered no signals, but hoisted a white flag and fired a gun to windward, and was thus recognized as a French frigate or heavy sloop-of-war.

Night was coming on, and the chase, with a pleasant breeze, stood on a wind to the northward and eastward. The valiant "mynheer," whose courage, by means of schnapps, had been screwed up to the sticking point, made all sail after the enemy, and caused a double portion of the stimulating article to be served out to his crew. Under this invigorating influence he made a speech, in which he promised a rich reward to all who would manfully assist in giving the enemy a double dose of "donner and blitzen." He further promised that, to give his crew a good chance to distinguish themselves, he would lay the ship alongside the enemy, and fight the battle yard-arm and yard-arm. The gallant crew gave three hearty cheers, and swore to do their duty as became the countrymen of Van Tromp.

Darkness soon came on. The night was cloudy, and the wind was moderate. The chase was lost sight of, though it was believed the Dutchman was losing with the enemy hand over hand. The decks were cleared for action, the deck lanterns lighted, the guns double-shotted, and men with eyes of preternatural brilliancy stationed on the lookout.

Hours passed in anxious expectation, and another allowance of schnapps was served out to keep up the spirits of the crew; when, to the great gratification of every man on board, a lookout on the end of the flying jib-boom shouted, "Sail, ho!" The chase was soon distinctly visible, looming up, not like a speck, but like a LARGE BLACK SPOT on the dark horizon. A bloody battle was now certain to take place, and mynheer, combining discretion with valor, took in his light sails, and got his ship into a condition to be easily handled..

The Frenchman was apparently lying to, waiting for his antagonist to come up. He did not have long to wait. The Dutch frigate luffed up on his weather quarter, ranged alongside within musket shot, and poured in a tremendous broadside, then shooting ahead, peppered the astonished enemy in a truly scientific manner. The frigate then wore short round athwart the Frenchman's bows, sweeping his decks with another terrible broadside. The Dutchman kept up the combat with a degree of courage, energy, and spirit that was a marvel to behold; sometimes lying athwart the enemy's wake and raking the decks with terrible effect; sometimes crossing the bows and sending the devastating iron shower the whole length from stem to stern; and sometimes lying bravely alongside, as if courting, as well as giving, hard knocks; and displaying, under these critical circumstances, specimens of seamanship and maneuvering which would have commanded the admiration of the great DeRuyter himself.

But a combat fought with such desperation could not last forever. One of the frigate's guns, being overcharged, burst, killing several men and wounding others; and just as the first signs of daybreak were seen in the east, the Dutchman hauled off to repair damages and count his losses. The enemy apparently had not lost a spar, notwithstanding the terrible hammering he had received, but continued doggedly lying to, preserving, to the great indignation of his opponent, a most defiant attitude.

When daylight shone on the scene of battle, and the doughty Dutchman, having repaired damages, was ready to renew the combat, it suddenly became manifest to every man on board the frigate who had the proper use of his eyes, that the French ship-of-war which had so nobly sustained a tremendous cannonading through the night, was neither more nor less than A HUGE ROCK, which, with its head high above the surface, like the Sail-rock near the island of St. Thomas, marvellously resembled a ship under sail. The captain of the frigate rubbed his eyes on beholding the unexpected vision, as much astonished as the chivalrous Don Quixote, who, after an unsuccessful contest with a squad of giants, found his enemies transformed into windmills. This rock was afterwards known as rock Donner or Donnerock, and will stand forever an imperishable monument commemorative of "Dutch courage."

The principal town in Grenada is St. George, which is situated on a bay on the south-west side of the island, and is defended by heavy fortifications. On arriving at the mouth of the harbor in the Lapwing, we fell in with a large brig-of-war, called the Ringdove, and was boarded before we came to anchor in the bay. When the boat from the brig was approaching, it was strange to see the trepidation which seized every one of our crew. Although all, with the exception of myself, were in possession of genuine legal documents that should have served as impregnable barriers against impressment, yet they had witnessed so many facts showing the utter disregard of human or divine laws on the part of the commanders of British ships-of-war when in want of men, that they awaited the result of the visit with fear and trembling.

A lieutenant came on board and conversed pleasantly with the captain and supercargo. The men were mustered and called aft to the quarter-deck, and carefully scrutinized by the boarding officer. Our protections were examined, but being printed or inscribed in the Swedish language, were not read. Every thing appeared according to rule. The lieutenant looked hard at me as John Lordick, and asked some questions of the captain, to which the captain replied, "He is my brother," which seemed to settle the matter. The boat returned on board the Ringdove, and I, as well as the others, rejoiced in having eluded impressment in a man-of-war.

The sloop was brought to anchor, and the cook and myself were ordered into the boat for the purpose of setting the captain and supercargo on shore. We pulled around the principal fort, which is situated on a point of land, and entered a beautiful land-locked harbor, or careenage, where a number of vessels were lying at the wharves. The captain and supercargo landed on one of these wharves, and the captain directed the cook to accompany him to the market square for the purpose of procuring fresh provisions; I was ordered to remain by the boat.

When the captain was gone, and I was left standing alone, my thoughts again recurred to the subject of impressment, which had so completely engrossed the minds of the crew that morning; and I thought to myself, "Suppose some crafty, determined, unscrupulous officer of the Ringdove, or some other British vessel, should be at this very time on shore, lounging about the wharves, disguised as an inoffensive citizen, but watching an opportunity to pounce upon a poor unfortunate fellow, like myself, and bear him off in triumph, to become a victim of the cat-o'-nine-tails at the gangway, or food for gunpowder." While I was shuddering at the idea of such a climax to my adventures, I saw a man coming towards me, whose countenance and demeanor aroused all my suspicions. He was a thick-set, swarthy individual, with enormous black whiskers and sparkling black eyes. He was dressed like a gentleman, but I thought his garments hung loosely about him; indeed, his whole appearance, in my eyes, was that of the leader of a press-gang or the captain of a band of pirates. He eyed me closely as he advanced towards me with what I conceived to be a regular man-of-war swagger. Being driven to bay, I stood my ground firmly, and confronted him.

"Do you belong to the sloop which is anchored in the bay, my lad?" inquired he, with a mild voice and pleasant smile, affected, of course, to conceal his real intentions.

"Yes," was my rather curt reply.

"What is the name of the sloop?"

"Lapwing."

"Where does the Lapwing belong?"

"To St. Bartholomew."

"Where are you from last?"

"St. Bartholomew."

"Hum! What is the name of your captain?"

"James Lordick."

"Ah, James Lordick?" exclaimed he, with vivacity. "Indeed" Then addressing me abruptly, he inquired, "Where do YOU belong?"

"Now for it," thought I to myself; "the time has come when I must plunge headforemost into the sea of falsehood; so here goes." And I answered boldly, "To Saba."

"To Saba? Do you, indeed?" And he gazed at me with his piercing eyes, as if he could read my very soul. "To Saba. You belong to Saba? What is your name?"

"John Lordick."

"Is it possible!" exclaimed my black-whiskered friend. "Are you REALLY John Lordick, the brother of James? Good Lord! Who would have thought it!"

Thus strongly appealed to, I felt unable to reply except by an affirmative nod.

"So you are John Lordick? I heard you were dead. How the world is given to lying! I should never have known you. You have changed amazingly since I left Saba six years ago, John."

As this remark did not necessarily require any reply, I made none. I now began to suspect that I was mistaken in the estimate of the character of my interrogator that he was neither the captain of a band of pirates nor the leader of a press-gang; and it being my first essay at carrying out a system of falsehood, I was terribly frightened at the dilemma in which I was involved. I lost my presence of mind, and instead of frankly avowing the truth, as policy, as well as principle, would have dictated, I came to the conclusion to stick by my story, and carry out the deception to the end of the chapter. But my mortification, my confusion, my chagrin, at being subjected to this unforeseen cross-examination, can hardly be conceived. I envied the condition of the wretch standing by the gallows with a noose around his neck. After a brief pause, my tormentor continued "Do you recollect me?"

"No," said I, promptly; and glad of a chance to speak a little truth, I added, "To the best of my knowledge, I never saw you before in my life."

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" My friend seemed greatly amused. "Can it be that I have changed so much within a few short years? You knew me well enough once, John, when I lived opposite your father's house. I am Lewis Brown." And in a friendly, but somewhat patronizing manner, he held out his hand.

"Indeed," said I, grasping his proffered hand, "Lewis Brown! I never should have recognized you."

"Yes," said Brown, "six years WILL make a change in one's appearance. I should never have recognized you as John Lordick. How is your sister, Bertha, and all the rest of the folks?"

"Well, quite well."

"Whom did your sister marry?"

"She is not married yet," said I.

"Not married yet! Why, she must be at least twenty years old. When I left home, she was a beautiful girl even then a belle. Not married, and in Saba! But she will be, soon, I suppose."

"Perhaps," said I.

"Ah! Ah! She is engaged, I see. Who is the happy man?"

"Indeed, I don't know," I exclaimed, wishing the inquisitive fellow at the bottom of the Red Sea, with a twenty-four pound shot fastened to his feet.

"What has become of your cousin, Mark Haraden? Is he as lively and good-humored as ever?"

This Lewis Brown, delighted at having met with an old acquaintance, seemed bent on getting all the information and gossip about his old cronies, that chance had thrown in his way. Fearing I might perpetrate some palpable absurdity in my fabulous statements, as in the case of my "sister Bertha," I resolved to kill off all his friends and relations in detail, without ceremony or remorse. And therefore I replied to the question about Mark Haraden by saying,

"O! Mark was capsized by a squall while going in a boat from St. Martin to St. Bartholomew with a load of sugar, and all hands were lost."

"Poor fellow! Poor fellow! I am sorry to hear this; but life's uncertain. Where is Nicholas Ven Vert now?"

"Nicholas Van Vert? He happened to be at St. Kitts last year when the yellow fever broke out there, and was attacked with it the day after he reached home, and lived only three days."

"Indeed! Indeed! Well, we should all be prepared for whatever may happen! How is old Captain Wagner as hale and hearty as ever?"

"The old man slipped and fell over a precipice on the north side of the island a few weeks ago, and broke his neck."

"Good Lord! What a terrible mortality among my best friends in Saba! I am almost afraid to inquire after my old flame, Julia Hoffner. What has become of her?"

While I was considering in what way I should dispose of the fair and interesting Julia, a grinning darkey, who had approached the wharf in great haste, shouted, "Captain Brown, massa mate wants you on board, right off, directly"

I felt grateful to the dark-complexioned youth for the seasonable interruption, and secretly resolved that if it should ever be in my power to do him a good turn, I would do it. Unfortunately for him, I never saw him more.

Captain Brown seemed annoyed at the summons, and turning to me, said, "I suppose I must go, John, but I'll be back in a minute. It's a real treat to talk to a Saba man. But you have told me some sad news don't go away." And the inquisitive gentleman walked off, looking as sad and forlorn as if he had really "lost all his friends," and leaving me half dead with terror lest my falsehoods should be detected, and perspiring with remorse at having made such a rectangular deviation from the strict line of truth.