While this unexpected relief was preparing Mr. Corréard, seated at the foot of his truck bed, was overwhelmed by the thoughts of his wretchedness, and plunged in the most heart-rending reflections. All that he saw affected him still more deeply, than the dreadful scenes which had passed upon the raft. "In the very heat of battle," said he, "the pain of my wounds was not accompanied by the gloomy despondency which now depresses me, and by a slow, but sure progress, is conducting me to death. Only two months ago, I was strong, intrepid, capable of braving every fatigue: now, confined to this horrid abode, my courage is vanished, every thing forsakes me. I have, in vain, asked some assistance of those who have come to see me, not from humanity, but from unfeeling curiosity: thus, people went to Liege to see the brave Goffin, after he had extricated himself by his courage, from the coal-pit which had fallen in and buried him. But he, happier than I, was rewarded with the cross of the legion of honour, and a pension which enabled him to subsist.[44] If I were in France," he continued, "my relations, my countrymen, would mitigate my sufferings; but here, under a burning climate, where every thing is strange to me, surrounded by these Africans, who are hardened by the habitual sight of the horrors produced by the slave trade, nothing relieves me; on the contrary, the length of the nights, the continuance of my sufferings, the sight of those of my companions in misfortune, the disgusting filth by which I am surrounded, the inattention of a soldier who acts as nurse, and is always drunk or negligent, the insupportable hardness of a wretched bed, scarcely sheltered from the inclemency of the air, all announce to me an inevitable death. I must resign myself to it, and await it with courage! I was less to be pitied on the raft; then my imagination was exalted, and I scarcely enjoyed my intellectual faculties! but here, I am only an ordinary man, with all the weaknesses of humanity. My mind is continually absorbed in melancholy reflections; my soul sinks under incessant sufferings, and I daily see those who shared my unhappy fate, drop before me into the grave.[45]"
While he was wholly absorbed in this distressing soliloquy, he saw two young officers enter the room, followed by three or four slaves, carrying various effects. These two officers approached, with an air of kindness, the mournful and motionless Corréard, "Accept," said they, "these trifling presents, they are sent to you by Major Peddy, and Captain Cambpell: we, sir, have desired the happiness of bringing you this first assistance; we were commissioned by all our comrades, to obtain from you accurate information respecting your wants; you are, besides, invited to partake of our table, all the time we shall pass together: the Major, and all the officers, beg you to remain here, and not to go to the pestilential camp at Deccard, where a mortal distemper would carry you off in a few days." It would be ungrateful not to name these two young officers: one bears the name of Beurthonne, without being a relation of the Governors; the name of the other is Adam.
While these generous officers were fulfilling, with so much politeness and kindness, these acts of humanity, Major Peddy entered the room, followed by other slaves, also loaded with things, which he came to offer to the friend of the naturalist, Kummer, by whom he was accompanied. The Major approached the unfortunate Corréard, who seemed as if awaking from a dream; he embraced him, shedding tears, and vowing to him a friendship which never abated during the whole time that he remained with him. What a sublime image is a fine man, almost two metres in height, who sheds tears of pity at the sight of an unfortunate man, who was not less affected, and, shed them in abundance, penetrated with the most delicious feelings of gratitude and admiration. After he had recovered from the emotion excited in him by the sight of the melancholy situation of the stranger, whom he had just snatched from misery, the Major made him the most obliging offers: and that Mr. Corréard might not decline them, he assured him, beforehand, that he himself and many of his comrades had received similar assistance from Frenchmen; and that their countrymen ought to allow him the honour of discharging, if it were possible, his debt to their nation, for the generous treatment which he had received from them.[46] Offers so nobly made, could not but be accepted by Mr. Corréard, who expressed to his benefactor, how happy he should esteem himself to be able to merit the friendship that he had just offered him, and that he wished nothing so much as to be able, one day, to shew his gratitude in a manner worthy of himself, and of a Frenchman. From that time Mr. Corréard received all imaginable assistance from the Major and his officers, and it may be said with truth, that he owes them his life, as do the four French officers who were with him.
On the 24th of August, Mr. Clairet paid the debt of nature. It was thirty-four days after our arrival at St, Louis. Mr. Corréard had the grief to see him die at his side, and to hear him say before his death, that he died satisfied, since he had had time to recommend to his father a natural son whom he loved. At this time Major Peddy had not yet relieved Mr. Corréard; he was without clothes, so that he could not attend the funeral of his comrade, who had just expired, worn out by the sufferings which he had experienced on the raft.
The remains of this young officer received the honours due to them. The English officers, and especially Major Peddy, acted on this occasion in a manner worthy of praise.
Perhaps our readers will not be sorry to be made acquainted with some of the details of this mournful ceremony. They are drawn up by Mr. Corréard, who still feels a sad pleasure in calling to mind the moments which necessarily made upon him so great an impression.
The body of the unfortunate Clairet was laid out in a subterraneous apartment of the hospital, whither immense crowds repaired to see once more the mortal remains of one who was almost regarded as an extraordinary man; and who, at this moment, owed to his cruel adventures, the powerful interest, which the public favor attached to him and to those, who had so miraculously escaped from all the combined afflictions sustained on the fatal raft.
"About four o'clock in the afternoon," says Mr. Corréard, "I heard the mournful sounds of martial instruments under the windows of the hospital. This was a dreadful blow to me, not so much because it warned me of the speedy fate which infallibly awaited me, as because this funeral signal announced to me the moment of eternal separation from the companion of my sufferings: from the friend, whom our common misfortunes had given me, when I passed with him the most dreadful moments of my life. At this sound I wrapped myself in my sheet, and crawled to the balcony of my window, to bid him the last farewell, and to follow him with my eyes as far as possible. I know not what effect the sight of me may have produced, but when I now reflect upon it myself; I imagine that the people must have believed it was a spectre welcoming a corpse to the abode of the grave."
"As for me, notwithstanding my emotion, the sacrifice which I supposed I had made of my life, permitted me to contemplate and to follow in detail the sad spectacle on which my almost extinguished eyes eagerly dwelt. I distinguished a crowd of slaves who had obtained permission from their masters to be present at the ceremony. A body of English soldiers was placed in a line; after them came two lines of French soldiers and sailors. Immediately after, four soldiers bore the coffin on their shoulders, after the manner of the ancients. A national flag covered it, and hung down to the ground; four officers, two French and two English, were placed at the angles, diagonally opposite, and supported the corners; on the coffin were laid the uniform and the arms of the young soldier, and the distinctive marks of his rank. On the right and left French officers of the army and navy, and all the officers of the administration, ranged in two files, formed the procession. The band of music was at their head: afterwards, came the English staff with the respectable Major Peddy at its head, and the corps of citizens, led by the mayor of the town; lastly, the officers of the regiment, and a detachment, commanded by one of them, closed the procession. Thus was conducted to his last repose, this other victim of the fatal raft, snatched in the flower of his age, from his friends and his country, by the most fatal death, and whose fine qualities and courage rendered him worthy of a less deplorable fate."
This brave officer, who was only twenty-eight years of age, had been eight years in the service; he had received the cross of the Legion of Honor at the Champ de Mai, as a reward for the services which be had performed at Talavera de la Reina, Sierra Morena, Saragossa, Montmiraill, Champaubert, and Montéreau; he was present, also, at the too deplorable day of Waterloo; he was then ensign-bearer of his regiment.