“The grison has a greater resemblance to the weazel, than to any other animal, but it belongs not to the weazel tribe; for its body is not long enough, and its [[43]]legs are too long. It is not mentioned by any author or traveller. I shewed it to several persons who had lived long in Surinam, but none of them knew it; hence it either must be a rare animal, even in its native country, or it must live in deserts and unfrequented places: the length of its body is about seven inches; I have not been able to learn any thing of its history.”
To this I shall only add my surprize.—It is true that this animal is very rare in Surinam, but it probably owes its not being described by naturalists to its extreme ferocity, which is without example, it being a very uncommon circumstance to take a crabbo-dago or grison alive.
Our old commander and I were now inseparable friends, to whose board being daily invited, he requested me to paint his portrait at full length in his bush equipage, which was to be engraved at the expence of the town of Amsterdam, and where he thought himself now as great a man as the Duke of Cumberland was in England after the battle of Culloden.
Having provided a large sheet of paper, and some China ink, I began to delineate this wonderful character in his own hut. While I was now looking full in his face, to examine the features of this first of despots, and laughing aloud, to think how he and I now sat staring at one another, the whole mountain was suddenly shook by a tremendous clap of thunder, while the lightning actually scorched the Colonel’s forehead; and, [[44]]what is very curious, broke all the eggs under a hen that was sitting in a corner of the room where we were engaged. The hero’s features being re-composed, I proceeded, and the picture was completed in a short time after, to his great satisfaction.
About this time the captive rebel, September, who was taken in the year 1773, died of a dropsy. Ever since his capture, when his companion was shot, this poor fellow was obliged to follow Fourgeoud like a dog through all his expeditions; the colonel always expecting that this negro would, one day or other, conduct him to different haunts of the rebels—but he was mistaken. The other negro slaves, suspecting that he had actually given some information, attributed his dreadful death to a punishment from God, for his want of fidelity to his countrymen, to whom they supposed he had sworn to be true.
The reader may remember, that I have stated it in the third Chapter, as an invariable article of belief among the African negroes, that whoever breaks his oath shall die miserably in this world, and be punished for ever in that which is to come.
By the 2d of June, the Hope in Comewina was become so very unwholesome for want of cleanliness, and being kept free from inundations (as it was much neglected by the newly-arrived troops which were now stationed there), that the commanding officer and most of his men were rendered unfit for duty by sickness, and many of them already buried. To this place Colonel Fourgeoud ordered [[45]]down Captain Brant to take the command, with a fresh supply of men, and orders to send, not to town but to Magdenberg, all the invalids he should relieve. These orders he gave to the above officer in such a brutal manner, and dispatched him so suddenly, that he had not even time to pack up his cloaths; while Colonel Seyburg deprived him of his only servant, whom he took for himself. This usage so much affected Captain Brant, that he burst into tears, and declared he did not wish longer to survive such galling treatment: he then departed to the Hope, truly with a broken heart.
Upon his arrival he was informed that Captain Brough, the late commanding officer, was dead. This poor man had been on hard service in the woods, and being very corpulent, could no longer support the fatigues and excessive heat; he melted down very fast, and a putrid fever at last occasioned his dissolution. Captain Brant was soon followed by Colonel Seyburg to the Hope, with orders to inspect the sick.—In this interval of inaction, I shall describe two fishes, which, though very different in size and colour, equally merit particular attention.
The first, and indeed the only one of the kind I ever saw, was caught by an angler. It was about the size of a large anchovy, and, the dorado excepted, was certainly the most beautiful coloured fish I ever saw. Its back and sides were divided in longitudinal bars of fine yellow and a deep blueish black, the belly was silver, the eyes were black and gold, and the fins a glowing transparent vermilion; [[46]]its shape was not unlike that of a trout, and the whole was covered with small scales; it had one dorsal fin on the middle of its back, with only the vestige of another near the tail, which was forked: under its belly were five fins, two pectoral, two ventral, and one behind the anus; the under jaw projected before the upper jaw, and made its mouth appear reversed; the gills were small. Having enquired concerning this little fish, the only information I could obtain was from a black man, who called it dago-fisee.
