University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.

My next craft was the Camillus, a ship that was bound
to Greenock, via Charleston. We got to the latter port
without accident, and took in a cargo of cotton. The ship
was all ready for sailing of a Saturday, and the captain had
gone ashore, telling me he would be on board early in the
morning, when we could haul out and go to sea, should the
wind be favourable. I gave the people their Saturday's
night, and went into the cabin to freshen the nip, myself.
I took a glass or two, and certainly had more in me than is
good for a man, though I was far from being downright
drunk. In a word, I had too much, though I could have
carried a good deal more, on a pinch. The steward had
gone ashore, and there being no second-mate, I was all
alone.

In this state of things, I heard a noise, and went on deck

to inquire what was the matter. My old ship, the Franklin,
was shifting her berth, and her jib-boom had come foul
of our taffrail. After some hailing, I got on the taffrail to
shove our neighbour off, when, by some carelessness of my
own, I fell head-foremost, hitting the gunwale of the boat,
which was hanging, about half way up to the davits, into
the water. The tide set me away, and carried me between
the wharf and the ship astern of us, which happened to be
the William Thompson, Captain Thompson, owner Thompson,
mate Thompson, and all Thompson, as Mathews used
to have it. Captain Thompson was reading near the cabin
windows, and he luckily heard me groan. Giving the
alarm, a boat was got round, and I taken in. As the
night was dark, and I lost all consciousness after the fall, I
consider this escape as standing second only to that from
the shark in the West Indies, and old Trant's gun, the
night the Scourge went down. I did not recover my recollection
for several hours. This was not the effect of liquor,
but of the fall, as I remember everything distinctly that occurred
before I went from the taffrail. Still I confess that
liquor did all the mischief, as I had drunk just enough to
make me careless.

In the morning, I found myself disabled in the left
arm, and I went to a doctor. This gentleman said he
never told a fellow what ailed him until he got his whack.
I gave him a dollar, and he then let me into the secret.
My collar-bone was broken. “And, now,” says he, “for
another dollar I'll patch you up.” I turned out the other
Spaniard, when he was as good as his word. Going in the
ship, however, was out of the question, and I was obliged
to get a young man to go on board the Camillus in my
place; thus losing the voyage and my berth.

I was now ashore, with two or three months of drift before
me. Since the time I joined the Washington, I had
been going regularly ahead, and I do think had I been able
to stick by the Camillus, I might have brought up a master.
I had laid up money, and being employed while in port,
I was gradually losing my taste for sailor amusements,
and getting more respect for myself. That fall from the
taffrail was a sad drawback for me, and I never recovered
the lee-way it brought about.

I was more than two months ashore, behaving myself
rationally on account of my arm. At the end of that time,
I went on board the Sally, a ship also bound to Greenock,
as her second-mate. This vessel belonged to Charleston,
and it was intended she should return to her own port. The
voyage turned out well, and my arm got as strong as ever.
On reaching Charleston, I left the craft, which was laid up,
and shipped in a schooner of the same name, bound to St.
Domingo, as her chief mate. This was no great craft, certainly,
though she proved a tight, wholesome sea-boat. We
went out without any accident, arriving in safety at Cape
Henry. After discharging cargo, and smuggling on board
a quantity of doubloons — four hundred and eighty, it was
said — we got under way for the island of Cuba. We intended
to go into Matanzas, and kept along the coast. After
crossing the Windward Passage, we reached Cuba; and
were standing on, with a light wind, under our squaresail,
the morning of the third day out, when we saw a large boat,
carrying two sails, standing out from the shore, evidently in
chase of the schooner. We had on board eight souls, viz.
the owner, a Frenchman, who had been a dragoon in the
service of his own country, but who was now between seventy
and eighty; the captain, myself, a boy, the cook, and
four men forward. We could see that there were nine men
in the boat. We had no arms in the schooner, not even a
pistol, and the men in the boat had muskets. We did not
ascertain this last fact, however, for some time. I thought
the strangers pirates the moment I saw them come out from
under the land, but the captain maintained that they were
turtle-men. The boat was rowing, and came up with us,
hand over hand. When near, they commenced firing muskets
at us, to drive us below. All the crew forward, with
the cook, ran down into the forecastle, leaving no one on
deck but the captain, the old Frenchman, and myself. The
boy got into the companion-way.

What the others did on deck, as these gentry came alongside,
amusing themselves with keeping up a smart fire of
musketry, I do not know; but my own occupation was to
dodge behind the foremast. It was not long, however, before
they came tumbling in, and immediately got possession
of the schooner. One or two came forward and secured the

forecastle hatch, to keep the people down. Then they probably
felt that they were masters. One chap drew a fearful-looking
knife, long, slender, sharp and glittering, and he
cut the halyards of the square-sail. All the men I saw in
the schooner struck me as Americans, or English, affecting
to be Spaniards. There is such a difference in the height,
complexion, and general appearance of the people of Spain,
and those of the two other countries, without reference to
the manner of speaking, that I do not think I could be mistaken.
I saw but one man among these pirates, whom I
took for a real Spaniard. It is true their faces were all
blacked to disguise them, but one could get enough glimpses
of the skin to judge of the true colour. There was no negro
among them.

The chap who cut away the square-sail halyards, I felt
certain was no Spaniard. The sail was no sooner down,
than he ran his knife along the head, below the bolt-rope, as
if to cut away the cloth with the least trouble to himself. I
was standing near, and asked him why he destroyed the
sail; if he wanted it, why he did not take it whole? At
this, he turned short round upon me, raised his arm, and
struck a heavy blow at me with his fearful-looking knife.
The point of the deadly weapon struck square on my breast-bone!
I fell, partly through the force of the blow, and
partly from policy; for I thought it safest to be lying on
my back. I got several hearty kicks, in addition to this
fierce attack, together with sundry curses in broken Spanish.
I spoke in English, of course; and that the man understood
me was clear enough by the expression of his countenance,
and his act. The wound was slight, though it bled a good
deal, covering my shirt and trowsers with blood, as much as
if I had been run through the heart. An inch or two, either
way, in the direction of the knife, would certainly have
killed me.

I do not know what might have been the end of this
affair, had not one of the pirates come forward, at this critical
instant, and checked my assailant by shaking a finger
at him. This man, I feel very certain, I knew. I will not
mention his name, as there is a doubt; but I cannot think I
was mistaken. If I am right, he was a young man from
Connecticut, who sailed one voyage to Liverpool with me in

the Sterling. With that young man I had been very intimate,
and was oftener with him ashore than with any other
of the crew. His face was blackened, like those of all his
companions, but this did not conceal his air, manner, size,
eyes and voice. When he spoke, it was in a jargon of
broken English and broken Spanish, such as no man accustomed
to either language from infancy would have used.
The same was true as to all the rest I heard speak, with the
exception of an old fellow in the boat, whom I shall presently
have occasion to mention, again.

The man I took to be my old shipmate, also seemed to
know me. I was but a lad when I quitted the Sterling, it is
true; but they tell me I have not altered a great deal in
general appearance. My hair is still black; and then, when
I was in the very prime of life, it must have been easy to
recognize me. So strongly was I impressed, at the time,
that I saw an old acquaintance, I was about to call him by
name, when, luckily, it crossed my mind this might be dangerous.
The pirates wished clearly to be unknown, and it
was wisest to let them think they were so. My supposed
shipmate, however, proved my friend, and I received no
more personal ill treatment after he had spoken to his companion.
I sometimes think he was the means, indeed, of
saving all our lives. He asked me if there was any money,
and, on my denying it, he told me they knew better: the
schooner was in ballast, and must have got something for
her outward cargo. I refused to tell, and he ordered me
into their boat, whither the captain had been sent before me.
In doing all this, his manner wore an appearance, to me, of
assumed severity.

The poor old Frenchman fared worse. They seemed to
know he was owner, and probably thought he could give
the best account of the money. At any rate, he was unmercifully
flogged, though he held out to the last, refusing
to betray his doubloons. The boy was next attacked with
threats of throwing him overboard. This extracted the secret,
and the doubloons were soon discovered.

The captain and myself had been stowed under a half-deck,
in the boat, but as soon as the money was found, the
old Spaniard, who stood sentinel over us, was told to let us
out, that we might see the fun. There were the eight scoundrels,

paraded around the trunk of the schooner, dividing
the doubloons. As soon as this was done, we were told to
come alongside with our boat, which had been used to carry
us to the piratical craft. The captain got on board the Sally
and I was ordered to scull the rogues, in one gang, back to
their own craft. The scamps were in high spirits, seeming
much pleased with their haul. They cracked a good many
jokes at our expense, but were so well satisfied with their
gold, that they left the square-sail behind them. They had
robbed the cabin, however, carrying off, for me, a quadrant,
a watch, and a large portion of my clothes. The forecastle
had not been entered, though the men had four hundred
dollars lying under a pile of dirt and old junk, to keep them
out of sight.

My supposed ship-mate bore me in mind to the last. When
we reached his craft, he poured out a glass of brandy and
offered it to me. I was afraid to drink, thinking it might
be poisoned. He seemed to understand me, and swallowed
it himself, in a significant manner. This gave me courage,
and I took the next nip without hesitation. He then told
me to shove off, which I did without waiting for a second
order. The pirates pulled away at the same time.

We were a melancholy party, as soon as we found ourselves
left to ourselves. The old Frenchman was sad enough, and
all of us pitied him. He made no complaint of the boy,
notwithstanding, and little was said among us about the robbery.
My wound proved trifling, though the old man was
so bruised and beaten that he could scarcely walk.

As soon as a breeze came, we went into Charleston, having
no means to buy the cargo we had intended to get at
Matanzas. This was the first time I was ever actually
boarded by a pirate, although I had had several narrow
escapes before. The first was in the Sterling, off the coast
of Portugal; the next was in the William and Jane, outward
bound to Canton; the third was on the bank, in the
Trio, off the coast of Java; and the fourth, in the Mechanic,
on the other side of Cuba. It was not the last of my affairs
with them, however, as will be seen in the sequel.

I went out in the Sally again, making a voyage to Matanzas
and back, without any accident, or incident, worth
mentioning. I still intended to remain in this schooner, the

captain and I agreeing perfectly well, had I not been driven
out of her by one of those unlucky accidents, of which so
many have laid me athwart-hawse.

We were discharging sugar at Charleston, in very heavy
casks. The tide being in, the vessel's rail was higher than
the wharf, and we landed the casks on the rail, from which
they were rolled down some planks to the shore. Two negroes
were stationed on the wharf to receive the casks, and
to ease them down. One of these fellows was in the practice
of running up the planks, instead of standing at their
side and holding on to the end of the hogsheads. I remonstrated
with him several times about the danger he ran, but
he paid no attention to what I said. At length my words
came true; a cask got away from the men, and rolled directly
over this negro, flattening him like a bit of dough.

This was clearly an accident, and no one thought of accusing
me of any connection with it. But the owner of the
black looked upon him as one would look upon a hack-horse
that had been lamed, or killed; and he came down to the
schooner, on hearing that his man was done for, swearing
I should pay for him! As for paying the price of an athletic
“nigger,” it was even more impossible for me, than it
would seem it is for the great State of Pennsylvania to pay
the interest on its debt; and, disliking a lawsuit, I carried
my dunnage on board another vessel that same afternoon,
and agreed to work my passage to New York, as her second-mate.

The vessel I now went on board of was the Commodore
Rodgers, a regular liner between the two ports. We sailed
next morning, and I paid for the poor “nigger” with the
fore-topsail. The ship's husband was on board as we hauled
out, a man who was much in the habit of abusing the mates.
On this occasion he was particularly abusive to our chief
mate; so much so, indeed, that I remonstrated with the latter
on his forbearance. Nothing came of it, however, though
I could not forget the character of the man who had used
such language. When we reached New York, our chief
mate left us, and I was offered the berth. It was a little
hazardous to go back to Charleston, but wages were low,
and business dull, the yellow fever being in New York; and

I thought, by a little management, I might give my “nigger
owner” a sufficient berth. I accordingly agreed to go.

When we got back to Charleston, our ship lay at her own
wharf, and I saw nothing of my chap. He worked up town,
and we lay low down. But another misfortune befel me,
that led even to worse consequences. The ship's husband,
who was so foul-mouthed, was as busy as ever, blackguarding
right and left, and finding fault with everything. Our
cargo was nearly out, and this man and I had a row about
some kegs of white lead. In the course of the dialogue, he
called me “a saucy son of a b—h.” This was too much
for my temper, and I seized him and sent him down the
hatchway. The fall was not great, and some hemp lay in
the wake of the hatch; but the chap's collar-bone went. He
sung out like a singing-master, but I did not stop to chime
in. Throwing my slate on deck in a high passion, I left the
ship and went ashore. I fell in with the captain on the
wharf, told him my story, got a promise from him to send
me my clothes, and vanished. In an hour or two, half the
constables in Charleston were in chase of me. I kept so
close they could not find me, lying snug for a couple of days.

This state of things could not last for ever. The constables
were not half so ferocious as they seemed; for one
of them managed to get me off, on board a coaster, called
the Gov. Russel; where I engaged, I may say, as chief
mate and all hands. The Gov. Russel was a Buford trader,
making trips about fifteen or twenty leagues long. This was
the smallest navigation, and the smallest craft, a gun-boat
excepted, with which I ever had anything to do. The crew
consisted of two negroes, both slaves to the owner; while
the captain and myself were aft. Whether she would have
held so many, or not, I never knew, as the captain did not
join, while I belonged to her. The schooner lay three
miles below the town; and, in so much, was a good craft for
me; as no one would think of following an old Canton
trader into such a 'long-shore-looking thing. We busied
ourselves in painting her, and in overhauling her rigging;
while the ship's husband, and his myrmidons, amused themselves
in searching for me up in town.

I had been on board the Gov. Russel three days, when it
came on to blow from the southward and westward, in true

southern style. The gale came on butt-end foremost; and
was thought to be as severe, as anything seen in the port
for many a year. Most of the shipping broke adrift from
the wharves; and everything that was anchored, a man-of-war
and a revenue-cutter excepted, struck adrift, or dragged.
As for ourselves, we were lying at single anchor; and soon
began to walk down towards the bar. I let go the spare
anchor; but she snapped her cables, as if they had been
pack-thread; and away she went to leeward. Making sail
was out of the question, had any been bent, as ours were
not; and I had to let her travel her own road.

All this happened at night; when it was so dark, one
could not see, between the spray, the storm and the hour,
the length of the craft. I knew we were going towards the
ocean; and my great cause of apprehension was the bar.
Looking for the channel, was out of the question; I did not
know it, in the first place; and, had I been a branch-pilot,
I could not find it in the dark. I never was more completely
adrift, in my life, ashore or afloat. We passed a most
anxious hour, or two; the schooner driving, broadside-to, I
knew not whither, or to what fate. The two blacks were
frightened out of their wits; and were of no assistance to
me.

At length, I felt the keel come down upon the sands; and
then I knew we were on the bar. This happened amid a
whirlwind of spray; with nothing visible but the white foam
of the waters, and the breakers around us. The first blow
threw both masts out of the steps; ripping up the decks to a
considerable extent. The next minute we were on our
beam-ends; the sea making a clear breach over us. All we
could do, was to hold on; and this we did with difficulty.
I and the two blacks got on the weather-quarter of the
schooner, where we lashed ourselves with the main-sheet.
As this was a stout rope, something must part, before we
could be washed away. The craft made but two raps on
the bar, when she drifted clear.

I now knew we were at sea, and were drifting directly off
the coast. As we got into deep water, the sea did not make
such terrible surges over us; though they continued to break
over our quarter. The masts were thumping away; but for
this I cared little, the hold being full of water already. Sink

we could not, having a swept hold, and being built, in a great
measure, of pine. The schooner floated with about five feet
of her quarter-deck above water. Her bows had settled the
most; and this gave us rather a better chance aft.

Fortunately, we got the worst of this blow at the first go
off. The wind began to lessen in strength soon after we
passed the bar, and by daylight it only blew a stiff breeze.
No land was in sight, though I knew, by the colour of the
water, that we could not be a very great distance from the
coast. We had come out on an ebb-tide, and this had set
us off the land, but all that southern coast is so low, that it
was not to be seen from the surface of the ocean at any
great distance.

The day that succeeded was sad and dreary enough.
The weather was fine, the sun coming out even hot upon
us, but the wind continued to blow fresh off the land, and
we were drifting further out, every instant, upon the bosom
of the ocean. Our only hope was in falling in with some
coaster, and I began to dread drifting outside of their track.
We were without food or water, and were partly seated on
the rail, and partly supported by the main-sheet. Neither
of us attempted to change his berth that day. Little was
said between us, though I occasionally encouraged the negroes
to hold on, as something would yet pick us up. I had
a feeling of security on this head that was unreasonable,
perhaps; but a sanguine temperament has ever made me a
little too indifferent to consequences.

Night brought no change, unless it was to diminish the
force of the wind. A short time before the sun set, one of
the negroes said to me, “Masser Ned, John gone.” I was
forward of the two blacks, and was not looking at them at
the time; I suppose I may have been dozing; but, on looking
up, I found that one of the negroes had, indeed, disappeared.
How this happened I cannot say, as he appeared
to be well lashed; but I suppose he worked himself free,
and being exhausted, he fell into the water, and sunk before
I could get a glimpse of him. There was nothing to be
done, however, and the loss of this man had a tendency to
make me think our situation worse than it had before seemed
to be. Some persons, all good Christians I should suppose,
will feel some curiosity to know whether a man in my

situation had no disposition to take a religious view of his
case, and whether his conscience did not apprise him of the
chances of perdition that seemed to stare him in the face.
In answer to this, I am compelled to say that no such
thoughts came over me. In all my risks and emergencies,
I am not sensible of having given a thought to my Maker.
I had a sense of fear, an apprehension of death, and an instinctive
desire to save my life, but no consciousness of the
necessity of calling on any being to save my soul. Notwithstanding
all the lessons I had received in childhood, I
was pretty nearly in the situation of one who had never
heard the name of the Saviour mentioned. The extent of
my reflections on such subjects, was the self-delusion of
believing that I was to save myself—I had done no great
harm, according to the notions of sailors; had not robbed;
had not murdered; and had observed the mariner's code of
morals, so far as I understood them; and this gave me a
sort of claim on the mercy of God. In a word, the future
condition of my soul gave me no trouble whatever.

I dare say my two companions on this little wreck had
the same indifference on this subject, as I felt myself. I
heard no prayer, no appeal to God for mercy, nothing indeed
from any of us, to show that we thought at all on the
subject. Hunger gave me a little trouble, and during the
second night I would fall into a doze, and wake myself up
by dreaming of eating meals that were peculiarly grateful
to me. I have had the same thing happen on other occasions,
when on short allowance of food. Neither of the
blacks said anything on the subject of animal suffering, and
the one that was lost, went out, as it might be, like a candle.

The sun rose on the morning of the second day bright and
clear. The wind shifted about this time, to a gentle breeze
from the southward and eastward. This was a little encouraging,
as it was setting the schooner in-shore again, but
I could discover nothing in sight. There was still a good
deal of sea going, and we were so low in the water, that
our range of sight was very limited.

It was late in the forenoon, when the negro called out,
suddenly, “Massa Ned, dere a vessel!” Almost at the
same instant, I heard voices calling out; and, looking round,

I saw a small coasting schooner, almost upon us. She was
coming down before the wind, had evidently seen us some
time before we saw her, and now ranged up under our lee,
and hove-to. The schooner down boat, and took us on
board without any delay. We moved with difficulty, and I
found my limbs so stiff as to be scarcely manageable. The
black was in a much worse state than I was myself, and I
think twelve hours longer would have destroyed both of us.

The schooner that picked us up was manned entirely with
blacks, and was bound into Charleston. At the time she
fell in with us, we must have been twenty miles from the
bar, it taking us all the afternoon, with a fair wind, to reach
it. We went below, and as soon as I got in the cabin, I
discovered a kettle of boiled rice, on which I pounced like a
hawk. The negroes wished to get it away from me, thinking
I should injure myself; but I would not part with it.
The sweetest meal I ever had in my life, was this rice, a
fair portion of which, however, I gave to my companion.
We had not fasted long enough materially to weaken our
stomachs, and no ill consequences followed from the indulgence.
After eating heartily, we both lay down on the cabin
floor, and went to sleep. We reached the wharf about
eight in the evening. Just within the bar, the schooner was
spoken by a craft that was going out in search of the Gov.
Russel. The blacks told her people where the wreck was
to be found, and the craft stood out to sea.

I was strong enough to walk up to my boarding-house,
where I went again into quarantine. The Gov. Russel was
found, towed into port, was repaired, and went about her
business, as usual, in the Buford trade. I never saw her or
her captain again, however. I parted with the negro that
was saved with me, on the wharf, and never heard anything
about him afterwards, either. Such is the life of a sailor!

I was still afraid of the constables. So much damage
had been done to more important shipping, and so many
lives lost, however, that little was said of the escape of the
Gov. Russel. Then I was not known in this schooner by
my surname. When I threw the ship's husband down the
hold, I was Mr. Myers; when wrecked in the coaster, only
Ned.