Jack in the Forecastle; or, Incidents in the Early Life of Hawser Martingale

by John Sherburne Sleeper

"Has there been any naval engagement? Any American frigates taken, hey?" inquired a genuine native of Albion, his eyes sparkling with expectation.

The captain, although thus suddenly surrounded, captured, and taken possession of, seemed more amused than annoyed by these inquisitorial proceedings, and, with a clear voice and a good-humored smile, replied, while the tumult was hushed and every ear expanded to catch the interesting intelligence, "I know of no battles that have been fought on the land or sea; but just before I left New York, intelligence was received that General Hull, the commander of the American forces on the frontiers, had surrendered his whole army to the enemy at Detroit, with all his guns, ammunition, and stores, WITHOUT FIRING A GUN!"

It is impossible to describe the scene which followed the announcement of this unexpected intelligence, the exultation of the British, and the mortification and wrath of the Americans. Hull was stigmatized by his country-men as the basest of cowards. Curses, both loud and deep, were heaped upon his hoary head. Had he been within the grasp of those who listened to the story of his shame, a host of armed Englishmen could not have saved him from the fury of the Yankees.

Occasionally an American privateer was seen in the offing; and the boldness, enterprise, and success of this class of vessels in crippling the commerce of Great Britain among the islands, created astonishment and indignation among the loyal subjects of "his majesty." Rumors were afloat every day sometimes false, but more frequently true of some deed of daring, or destruction of British property, committed in that quarter by American private-armed vessels.

One day, a small drogher arrived from the English island of Antigua, bringing as passengers four or five seamen, the only survivors of a terrible disaster which befell one of those privateers while cruising to the windward of Antigua. One of the men was boatswain of the vessel. The tale which he related was a sad one, and its correctness was confirmed by the deep emotion which the narrator and his shipmates manifested and by the tears they shed.

The captain of the privateer was a man of violent and ungovernable temper and drunken habits. He had a quarrel every day with some of his officers or some of his men; and one Sunday afternoon a wordy contest took place between the captain and his first lieutenant, both being well primed with alcohol. The language and conduct of the insulted officer was such as to provoke the captain to madness. He raged and raved, and at last struck his lieutenant, and gave peremptory orders to "put the rascal in irons."

On hearing this order given, but before it could be executed, the lieutenant seized a loaded pistol. Instead of shooting his brutal commander on the spot, he rushed down the steps into the after part of the vessel, and undoubtedly discharged his weapon among the powder in the magazine! A tremendous explosion followed, which blew the privateer to fragments, scattering the timbers and planks, and the legs, arms, and bodies of the crew, in every direction! The shrieks of the wounded, the struggles of the dying, and the spectacle of horrors which those men witnessed, made a lasting impression on their minds.

After having been on the water a few minutes, almost stunned by the explosion, the boatswain and some of his companions succeeded in constructing a raft from the floating planks; and after days of suffering and exposure, without food, and almost without clothing, the survivors were driven ashore on the island of Antigua, where they were kindly treated, and subsequently sent to St. Bartholomew, with the expectation that they would there find a chance to get to the United States.

Strictland and myself led the vagabond kind of life I have described for a couple of weeks. My purse was gradually growing lighter, and it became evident that we must soon find employment or starve. We formed various plans for improving our condition, neither of which proved practicable when put to the test. One of these was to proceed to Tortola, and join a band of strolling players that were perambulating the islands, and attracting admiration, if not money, by the excellence of their dramatic representations. Strictland, it seemed, besides having been a hanger-on at the "Fives Court," had served occasionally as a supernumerary at Covent Garden Theatre. He could sing almost any one of Dibdin's songs in imitation of Incledon, in a manner to astonish an audience; and he flattered my vanity by assuring me that I should make a decided hit before an intelligent audience as "Young Norval." But this project failed for want of means to carry us to the theatre of action.

One morning, while looking about the wharves, we learned that the brig Gustavus, a vessel under Swedish colors, supposed to belong to St. Bartholomew, was making preparations for a voyage to the United States. We lost no time in finding the captain of the brig, a chuckle-headed, crafty-looking native of Sweden, who had been long a resident of the West Indies. I represented our case in the most forcible language I could command; and already aware that some men will be more likely to do a kind act from motives of self-interest than the promptings of a benevolent heart, I told him we were anxious to proceed to the United states, and if he would promise us the privilege of working our passage, we would go on board forthwith and assist in taking in cargo and getting the brig ready for sea.