The name of the prize-brig was the Susan, though I forget from what small eastern port she hailed. She was of about two hundred tons burthen, but must have-been old and rotten. Tibbets was master, and Wilson was chief-mate. I shipped as a sort of second-mate, keeping a watch, though I lived forward at my own request. We must have sailed about January, 1818, bound to Belfast. There were fourteen of us, altogether, on board, most of us down-easters. Our run off the coast was with a strong north-west gale, which compelled us to heave-to, the sea being too high for scudding. Finding that the vessel laboured very much, however, and leaked badly, we kept off again, and scudded for the rest of the blow. On the whole, we got out of this difficulty pretty well. We got but two observations the whole passage, but in the afternoon of the twenty-third day out, we made the coast of Ireland, close aboard, in thick weather; the wind directly on shore, blowing a gale. The brig was under close-reefed topsails, running free, at the time, and we found it necessary to haul up. We now discovered the defects of old canvass and old rigging, splitting the fore-topsail, foresail, and fore-topmast-staysail, besides carrying away sheets, &c. We succeeded in hauling up the foresail, however, and I went upon the yard and mended it, after a fashion. It was now nearly night, and it blew in a way "to need two men to hold one man's hair on his head." I cannot say I thought much of our situation, my principal concern being to get below, with some warm, dry clothes on. We saw nothing of the land after the first half-hour, but at midnight we wore ship, and came up on the larboard tack. The brig had hardly got round before the fore-tack went, and the foresail split into ribands. We let the sail blow from the yard. By this time, things began to look very serious, though, for some reason, I felt no great alarm. The case was different with Tibbets and Wilson, who were uneasy about Cape Clear. I had had a bit of a spat with them about waring, believing, myself, that we should have gone clear of the Cape, on the starboard tack. This prevented them saying much to me, and we had little communication with each other that night. To own the truth, I was sorry I had shipped in such a craft. Her owners were too poor to give a sea-going vessel a proper outfit, and they were too near my own level to create respect.
The fore-topsail had been mended as well as the foresail, and was set anew. The sheets went, however, about two in the morning, and the sail flew from the reef-band like a bit of muslin torn by a shop-boy. The brig now had nothing set but a close-reefed main-topsail, and this I expected, every minute, would follow the other canvass. It rained, blew tremendously, and the sea was making constant breaches over us. Most of the men were fagged out, some going below, while others, who remained on deck, did, or could do, nothing. At the same time, it was so dark that we could not see the length of the vessel.
I now went aft to speak to Tibbets, telling him I thought it was all over with us. He had still some hope, as the bay was deep, and he thought light might return before we got to the bottom of it. I was of a different opinion, believing the brig then to be within the influence of the ground-swell, though not absolutely within the breakers. All this time the people were quiet, and there was no drinking. Indeed, I hardly saw any one moving about. It was an hour after the conversation with Tibbets, that I was standing, holding on by the weather-main-clew-garnet, when I got a glimpse of breakers directly under our lee. I sung out, "there's breakers, and everybody must shift for himself." At the next instant, the brig rose on a sea, settled in the trough, and struck. The blow threw me off my feet, though I held on to the clew-garnet. Then I heard the crash of the foremast as it went down to leeward. The brig rolled over on her beam-ends, but righted at the next sea, drove in some distance, and down she came again, with a force that threatened to break her up. I bethought me of the main-mast, and managed to get forward as far as the bitts, in order to be out of its way. It was well I did, as I felt a movement as if her upper works were parting from the bottom. I was near no one, and the last person I saw, or spoke to on board, was Tibbets, who was then standing in the companion-way. This was an hour before the brig struck.
There might have been an interval of half a minute between the time I reached the windlass, and that in which I saw a tremendous white foaming sea rolling down upon the vessel. At this ominous sight, I instinctively seized the bitts for protection. I can remember the rushing of the water down upon me, and have some faint impressions of passing through a mass of rigging, but this is all. When I came to my senses, it was in an Irish mud-cabin, with an old woman and her daughter taking care of me. My head was bandaged, and most of the hair had been cut off in front I was stiff and sore all over me. Fortunately, none of my bones were broken.
The account given me of what had passed, was this. I was found by the old man, who lived in the hut, a fisherman and the husband of my nurse, with some other persons, lying on my face, between two shelves of rock. There was nothing very near me, not even a bit of wood, or a rope. Two lads that belonged to the brig were found not far from me, both alive, though both badly hurt, one of them having had his thigh broken. Of the rest of the fourteen souls on board the Susan, there were no traces. I never heard that even their bodies were found. Tibbets and Wilson had gone with their old prize, and anything but a prize did she prove to me. I lost a good outfit, and, after belonging to her about three weeks, here was I left naked on the shores of Ireland, I am sorry to say, my feelings were those of repining, rather than of gratitude. Of religion I had hardly a notion, and I am afraid that all which had been driven into me in childhood, was already lost. In this state of mind, I naturally felt more of the hardships I had endured, than of the mercy that had been shown me. I look back with shame at the hardness of heart which rendered me insensible to the many mercies I had received, in escaping so often from the perils of my calling.
It was three days after the wreck, before I left my bed. Nothing could have been kinder than the treatment I received from those poor Irish people. Certainly no reward was before them, but that which Heaven gives the merciful; and yet I could not have been more cared for, had I been their own son. They fed me, nursed me, and warmed me, without receiving any other return from me than my thanks. I staid with them three weeks, doing nothing on account of the bruises I had received. The Susan's had been a thorough wreck. Not enough of her could be found, of which to build a launch. Her cargo was as effectually destroyed as her hull, and, to say the truth, it took but little to break her up. As for the two lads, I could not get as far as the cabin in which they had been put. It was two or three miles along the coast, and, having no shoes, I could not walk that distance over the sharp stones. Several messages passed between us, but I never saw a single soul that belonged to the brig, after the last look I had of Tibbets in the companion-way.
A coaster passing near the cabin, and it falling calm, the fisherman went off to her, told my story, and got a passage for me to Liverpool. I now took my leave of these honest people, giving them all I had--my sincere thanks--and went on board the sloop. Here I was well treated, nor did any one expect me to work. We reached Liverpool the second day, and I went and hunted up Molly Hutson, the landlady with whom the crew of the Sterling had lodged, when Captain B---- had her. The old woman helped me to some clothes, received me well, and seemed sorry for my misfortunes. As it would not do to remain idle, however, I shipped on board the Robert Burns, and sailed for New York within the week. I got no wages, but met with excellent treatment, and had a very short winter passage. In less than three months after I left him, I was back again with my old landlord, who gave me my hundred dollars without any difficulty. I had sailed with him in the Sterling, and he always seemed to think of me a little differently from what landlords generally think of Jack.
A good deal was said among my associates, now, about the advantages of making a voyage to the coast of Ireland for the purpose of smuggling tobacco, and I determined to try my hand at one. Of the morality of smuggling I have nothing to say. I would not make such a voyage now, if I know myself; but poor sailors are not taught to make just distinctions in such things, and the merchants must take their share of the shame. I fear there are few merchants, and fewer seamen, man-of-war officers excepted, who will not smuggle.[13]
I laid out most of my hundred dollars, in getting a new outfit, and then shipped in a small pilot-boat-built schooner, called the M'Donough, bound to Ireland, to supply such honest fellows as my old fisherman with good tobacco, cheap. Our cargo was in small bales, being the raw material, intended to be passed by hand. We had seventeen hands before the mast, but carried no armament, pistols, &c., excepted. The schooner sailed like a witch, carrying only two gaff-topsails. We made the land in fourteen days after we left the Hook, our port being Tory Island, off the north-west coast of Ireland. We arrived in the day-time, and showed a signal, which was answered in the course of the day, by a smoke on some rocks. A large boat then came off to us, and we filled her with tobacco the same evening. In the course of the night, we had despatched four or five more boats, loaded with the same cargo; but, as day approached, we hauled our wind, and stood off the land. Next night we went in, again, and met more boats, and the succeeding morning we hauled off, as before. When we saw a boat, we hailed and asked "if they were outward bound." If the answer was satisfactory, we brailed the foresail and permitted the boat to come alongside. In this manner we continued shoving cargo ashore, for quite a week, sometimes falling in with only one boat of a night, and, at others, with three or four; just as it might happen. We had got about two-thirds of the tobacco out, and a boat had just left us, on the morning of the sixth or seventh day, when we saw a man-of-war brig coming round Tory Island, in chase. At this sight, we hauled up close on a wind, it blowing very fresh. As the English never employed any but the fastest cruisers for this station, we had a scratching time of it. The brig sailed very fast, and out-carried us; but our little schooner held on well. For two days and one night we had it, tack and tack, with her. The brig certainly gained on us, our craft carrying a balanced reefed-mainsail, bonnet off the foresail and one reef in, and bonnet off the jib. The flying-jib was inboard. At sunset, on the second night, the brig was so near us, we could see her people, and it was blowing fresher than ever. This was just her play, while ours was in more moderate weather. Our skipper got uneasy, now, and determined to try a trick. It set in dark and rainy; and, as soon as we lost sight of the brig, we tacked, stood on a short distance, lowered everything, and extinguished all our lights. We lay in this situation three hours, when we stuck the craft down again for Tory Island, as straight as we could go. I never knew what became of the brig, which may be chasing us yet, for aught I know for I saw no more of her. Next day we had the signal flying again, and the smoke came up from the same rock, as before. It took us three days longer to get all the tobacco ashore, in consequence of some trouble on the island; but it all went in the end, and went clear, as I was told, one or two boat-loads excepted. The cargo was no sooner out, than we made sail for New York, where we arrived in another short passage. We were absent but little more than two months, and my wages and presents came to near one hundred dollars. I never tried the tobacco trade again.