Strictland was with me whenever he could be spared from his regular duties, and gave me encouragement and aid. But I could not conceal from myself that my illness was becoming a serious matter. I accidentally heard two or three of the crew conversing about my sickness one day, and, to my great consternation, they came to the conclusion that I was rapidly sinking, and they would soon be rid of my company.
"Yaw," muttered in thick guttural tones a thick-headed Dutchman, who had manifested towards me particular dislike, "in one or TWO days more, at farthest, we shall help to carry him ashore in a wooden box." And a pleasant smile for a moment lighted up his ugly features.
"You lie, you heartless vagabond!" I exclaimed, giving a loose to my indignation; "you won't get rid of me so easily as you think. I will live and laugh at you yet, were it only to disappoint your expectations."
Nevertheless, the opinion which my unsympathizing shipmates thus volunteered came over me like an electric shock. It sounded in my ears like a sentence of death. I crawled along the lower deck into the forecastle, and from the bottom of my chest took a small looking-glass which I had not used for weeks. I saw the reflection of my features, and started back aghast. The transformation was appalling. The uncombed locks, the sunken eyes, the pallid, fleshless cheeks, the sharp features, and the anxious, agonized expression caused by continual pain, all seemed to have been suddenly created by the spell of some malignant enchanter. I did not venture to take a second look, and no longer wondered at the gloomy prediction of my companions.
The next day I found myself growing worse, and the pain increasing; and, notwithstanding my determination to recover and falsify the prediction of my unfeeling shipmates, I should undoubtedly have followed the dark path which thousands of my young countrymen, sick and neglected in a foreign land, had trod before, had I not received aid from an unexpected quarter. I was crawling along the main deck, near the gangway, when Mr. Parker, the supercargo, came on board. As he stepped over the gunwale, my appearance, fortunately for me, arrested his attention. He inquired my name, examined my condition, and seemed greatly shocked at the brutal neglect I had experienced. He told me to be of good courage; that it was not yet too late to arrest the progress of my disease. He commenced his healing operations by administering a copious dose of laudanum, which immediately relieved my pain and threw me into a refreshing sleep. He furnished me with other medicines, ordered me food suitable to my condition, and in a few days, owing to his humanity, care, and skill, I no longer suffered excepting from debility.
When Porto Cabello was recaptured by the Spaniards, in 1812, there was a number of French families in the place, who, having sympathized with the Patriots, received an intimation that their presence would be no longer tolerated; that they must shift their quarters forthwith. They accordingly purchased a small schooner, called "La Concha," put all their movable property on board, procured a French captain and mate, and prepared to embark for St. Bartholomew. When I heard of the expedition, two men were required to complete the crew. I conferred with Strictland; we both regarded it as an opportunity too favorable to be neglected, imagining that if we could reach St. Bartholomew, a neutral port, there would be no difficulty in getting a passage to the United States. We lost no time in calling on the captain, and offered to work our passage to St. Bartholomew an offer which was gladly accepted.
I expended a few of my Spanish dollars in providing necessaries for our voyage, which might be of two or three weeks' duration, and when the time appointed for the departure of the schooner arrived, we bade farewell to the Charity, and in a few hours, while sailing close-hauled on a wind to the northward, beheld the fortifications at the mouth of the harbor lessening in the distance.
The entrance to the harbor of Porto Cabello was once the theatre of one of the most gallant exploits recorded in the annals of naval warfare. A mutiny took place on board the British frigate Hermione, in 1799, while on the West India station, in consequence, it was said, of the harsh treatment which the crew received. The officers were murdered and thrown overboard. Captain Pigot, who commanded the frigate, after receiving several wounds, retreated to his cabin, and defended himself desperately with his dirk until he was bayoneted by the mutineers.
The frigate, thus taken possession of, was carried into Porto Cabello and delivered up to the Spanish authorities; Spain at that time being at war with Great Britain. The red-handed mutineers dispersed, and many of them subsequently returned to their native country, but were from time to time arrested, tried by court martial, and executed.
Indeed, no pains or expense were spared by the British government to bring these mutineers to punishment. They were sought for in every part of the world; hunted out of their hiding-places, and hanged. No false philanthropy interfered in their behalf, and threw obstacles in the swift and sure career of justice. Very few, if any, escaped the terrible punishment due to their crimes MUTINY AND MURDER ON THE HIGH SEAS. The effect of the EXAMPLE, which is the object of capital punishment was most salutary. No mutiny has occurred in the British navy since that time.