After paying my debts and supplying a few pressing wants I found remaining in my pocket fifty Spanish dollars. I had emerged from a state of poverty and dependence. I was rich, having the means, without much doubt, of procuring a passage from Martinico to some port in the United States.
Chapter XXXI. SORROWFUL SCENES
It was about the middle of September in the year 1816 that I embarked with Mr. Budge in a little sloop bound to St. Lucia and Martinico, after having resided in Grenada nearly four years. We had a few other passengers, one of whom was a French gentleman named Chambord, who had fought a duel with an Englishman in St. Lucia a few months before. This duel grew out of a fierce dispute in relation to the battle of Waterloo, and the comparative merit, in a military point of view, of Napoleon and Wellington. The Frenchman, being an adroit swordsman, got the best of the argument by running his antagonist through the body, and leaving him senseless, and apparently lifeless, on the field. He made his escape to Grenada. Having learned that the champion of Wellington was in a fair way to recover from his wound, he was now on his return to his home.
We tarried but a short time at St. Lucia, merely lying off and on at the mouth of the port of Castries, or Carenage, which is one of the most beautiful and safe harbors in that part of the world; the entrance being so narrow that two ships cannot pass through it abreast; but inside, the extent of the harbor and depth of water are sufficient to furnish good anchorage and shelter from hurricanes for a large fleet of ships of the largest class.
On arriving at St. Pierre I found a fearful hurricane had raged in that quarter only a week or ten days before. The wind, blowing from the eastward directly into the open roadstead with irresistible fury, had driven every vessel in port ashore on the beach. The ship Cato, of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, having all her cargo discharged, and presenting a large surface of hull to the wind and the waves, was found, after the tempest had subsided, high and dry in one of the streets, in a condition which precluded the possibility of getting her into the water, and was broken up. Others were launched on "ways" constructed for the purpose; while some sustained but little injury, and were easily got afloat. One English brig, built of the red cedar of Bermuda, a material greatly in favor at that time on account of its remarkable resistance to DECAY, was crushed like an egg-shell the moment it struck the shore, and the fragments were strown along the beach.
At the time I arrived at St. Pierre the yellow fever was prevailing to an alarming extent among the inhabitants. The same epidemic prevailed in Point Petre, Guadaloupe, and the numerous immigrants from France, in some cases whole families, who sought those shores with the hope of improving their condition, were cut off by this terrible disease soon after their arrival. Some cases of yellow fever appeared among the shipping in St. Pierre, and nearly every one proved fatal, showing the malignant type of the disease. Great alarm was manifested lest the epidemic should spread among the vessels, and sweep off whole crews, and I subsequently learned that these apprehensions were realized.
I engaged lodgings on shore, and was there an eye witness to the ravages of this plague of the West Indies. Young and healthy men, full of hope and gayety, with rich prospects in the future, were visited by this grim messenger soon after they set their feet on those shores; and few, very few, recovered. Death was doing a mighty business at Martinico at that time; and during my brief stay I listened to many a thrilling tale of hopes blighted, ties of affection sundered, and sorrows awakened by the remorseless action of the "King of Terrors." The strong man was cut down while boasting of his strength; and youth, beauty, or worth furnished no protection from the attack of this West India pestilence.
After my long residence in Grenada I had no fear of yellow fever in Martinico; and in several cases at my boarding house I was able to render valuable assistance. I was now anxious to get temporary employment of some kind, or procure a passage to the United States. I was every day getting nearer the bottom of my purse; and I trembled at the idea of finding myself penniless in the town of St. Pierre. I could hardly hope to meet with the sympathy and kindness from the Frenchmen of Martinico that I found in Grenada among the natives of Scotland.
Owing to the shipwrecks, caused by the hurricane, there was no want of seamen; and I could not even get an opportunity to work my passage to an American port before the mast. I had been so long in the West Indies that I had lost the distinguishing marks of a Yankee. And my broad accent, my swarthy complexion, my unseamanlike costume, adapted to the climate, all seemed to contradict my statement that I was an American sailor.