The men dropped on their knees with the holy-stones, and prayed, as the tyrant went below, that he might never come on deck again alive. Whether God heard the cry of the oppressed crew, or whether it was the action of the ordinary natural laws, the reader must determine for himself; but when the lieutenant again appeared on deck, he was brought up “feet foremost,” to be buried. He was taken sick that morning: his disease baffled the skill of the surgeon, and in a few days he was a corpse. The opinion that he died a monument of the divine displeasure against cruel, hard-hearted men of power, and of disregard for the miseries and tears of the oppressed poor, is at least worthy of serious consideration.
Soon after we had descried land, an American pilot came on board to pilot us into Hampton Roads. The sound of our own familiar tongue from a stranger, was very agreeable to men who had been accustomed to hear the semi-barbarous lingo of the Portuguese, and a thrill of home remembrances shot through our hearts, as, stepping on deck, the pilot exclaimed, “It is very cold!”
While at anchor in Hampton Roads, we fared well. Boats were alongside every day with plenty of beef and pork, which was declared, by universal consent, to be infinitely superior to what we obtained from Portugal. Our men said that the Yankee pork would swell in the pot, which they very sagely accounted for on the supposition that the pigs were killed at the full of the moon. But I suppose that Virginia corn had more to do in this matter than lunar influences; though our men most doggedly maintained the contrary and more mystical opinion.
The principal draw-back on the enjoyment of our stay at Norfolk, was the denial of liberty to go on shore. The strictest care was taken to prevent all communication with the shore, either personally or by letter. The reason of this prohibition was a fear lest we should desert. Many of our crew were Americans: some of these were pressed men; others were much dissatisfied with the severity, not to say cruelty, of our discipline; so that a multitude of the crew were ready to give “leg bail,” as they termed it, could they have planted their feet on American soil. Hence our liberty was restrained.
Our officers never enjoyed better cheer than during our stay at this port. Besides feasting among themselves on the fine fat beef, geese and turkeys, which came alongside in abundance, they exchanged visits with Commodore Decatur and his officers, of the frigate United States, then lying at Norfolk. These visits were seasons of much wassail and feasting. I remember overhearing Commodore Decatur and the captain of the Macedonian joking about taking each other’s ship, in case of a war; and some of the crew said that a bet of a beaver hat passed between them on the issue of such a conflict. They probably little thought that this joking over a wine-cup, would afterwards be cracked in earnest, in a scene of blood and carnage.
It was at this port that the difficulty between the British ship Leopard and the American frigate Chesapeake took place. Several American seamen, having escaped from the former, took refuge on board the latter. The captain of the Leopard demanded their restoration; the captain of the Chesapeake refused submission to the demand. The Leopard fired into the frigate, which, being of inferior force, struck to her opponent. As it was a time of peace, the Chesapeake was not kept as a prize; the claimed men were taken from her, and she was restored. This was among the circumstances which led to the war of 1812.
The despatches delivered, and the object of the voyage accomplished, we once more put to sea; having first laid in a liberal store of our favorite beef, together with a quantity of Virginia beans, called Calavances, which were in high favor with our men. To those of our crew who were Americans, this was rather an unpleasant event. Like the fabled Tantalus, they had the cup at their mouths, but it receded before they could taste its contents. They had been at the threshold of “home, sweet home,” but had not been permitted to step within its doors. Some of them felt this very keenly, especially a boy, who belonged to New York, named Jesse Lloyd. In truth, it was a hard lot.
A quick winter passage brought us to Lisbon, where the arrival of the English mail-bag, and orders to proceed to England with a convoy of merchantmen, put us all into a tolerably good humor.
The arrival of the mail-bag is a season of peculiar interest on board a man of war. It calls the finer feelings of human nature into exercise. It awakens conjugal, fraternal, and filial affection in almost every breast. The men crowd around, as the letters are distributed, and he was pronounced a happy fellow whose name was read off by the distributor; while those who had none, to hide their disappointment, would jocularly offer to buy those belonging to their more fortunate messmates.