The picture of my other unhappy friend was just the reverse of the above. He had indulged freely in all the fashionable gaieties of the world; and if ever a serious or useful thought obtruded on his disordered fancy, it was immediately stifled by some idle debauchery. In this mad career he quaffed away life to the dregs, and, before he arrived at the meridian of manhood, he was verging fast to the brink of eternity. A bacchanalian surfeit in a distant country brought on a fever, which threatened a speedy dissolution of life; and in this state I saw him for the first time for several years, and I am certain I shall never forget the painful feelings I endured throughout this melancholy interview. It is absolutely impossible to give even a faint idea of the horror, the agony, the heart-rending terror that harrowed up his soul, whenever the thought of death flashed across his mind. He received me with phrensied ardour, in which hope and fear were strongly depicted. “Alas!” he exclaimed, “you have come too late, for I am lost—every way lost.” I immediately perceived that life was ebbing fast; and being convinced that nothing short of divine interposition could retard his fate, I endeavoured to console him by drawing his attention to the mercies of God, and the saving mediation of a gracious Redeemer: to which he replied, with asperity and violence, “If you have any friendship left for a degraded, self-polluted wretch, torture not his last moments. My life has been spent in iniquity—foolishly spent, because it never yielded one hour of solid happiness. I have lived without thinking of God, and why should he now think of me, unless it be to judge me—to damn me?—Oh, God!—I shall go distracted!” A fainting fit intervened, and fortunately broke this mournful chain of reflection; but, alas! sensibility too soon returned, and with it fresh trains of gloomy despondency. He stared wildly, and roared out, “I have broken from him—but he is coming again—there—there—death!—Oh! save me—save me.” After nearly an hour passed in this dreadful state, he again became capable of reflecting; but every moment added to his dejection. “I have been so bad,” he exclaimed, “that God can never forgive me. I have blasphemed and dishonoured his holy name a hundred times, when my heart inwardly smote me. I have ridiculed and denied his existence, that my companions in error might think well of me; but I never was sincere in my wickedness.” His mind became so agitated that all reasoning was lost:—he was unable to repent; and the thought of death rent his very soul. In this perturbed state he languished for about four hours, from the time of my first seeing him; till at length, overwhelmed by despair, a paroxysm of fever closed the tragic scene. The last words he uttered, that I could distinctly hear, were, “God will not, cannot forgive!—” The remainder was lost in a murmuring groan.
Oh! my friends, could I convey to you any idea of the awful feelings which the wretched death of this wretched man produced upon my mind, it would, I think, deter the most thoughtless of you from those practices which ruin both soul and body. Would to God that you had been present! My description may not penetrate beyond the ear: but had you witnessed the dreadful original, it would have pierced your hearts.
Before concluding these observations, I cannot refrain from indulging myself in a single remark on your conduct lately, which I have infinite pleasure in saying merits the highest approbation of both Captain Brown and myself. Believe me, I lost no opportunity of acquainting all my benevolent friends of your good behaviour before we left England; and if you persevere to the end of the voyage in this praiseworthy manner, I promise you that all the well disposed inhabitants of the country to which you are going shall be informed of it; and in my best offices with the Governor you may most religiously confide.
5th.—At the earnest solicitation of several of the prisoners, I allowed copies of the above address to be taken by them, having the greater inclination to comply with this request, as I wished to see its effects rendered permanent. Their general conduct continues exemplary.
8th.—The same unvarying scene now presents itself every day. The women show no inclination whatever to hold conversation with the sailors. In every part of the ship to which the prisoners are allowed access, I have the gratifying opportunity of seeing some one of them reading a portion of Scripture, or some religious tract, to a group of her companions collected round to hear the consoling doctrines of the gospel. It now requires little or no entreaty to induce them to the practice of religious worship, in which I am persuaded many of them engage with sincere piety.
At 11 A. M. being somewhat indisposed, the Rev. Mr. Reddall did me the favour to read a sermon in the prison, during which I was summoned to a child that had long lingered from water on the brain, and was then dying. When the sermon was finished, I took occasion to address the women on the subject of death, as mentioned in my last address. The child’s dissolution, which had just taken place, gave an opportunity of impressing the subject on their minds; and, if one may judge by the burst of feeling it produced, it will not be speedily obliterated, the circumstances of life and death being immediately present to the imagination of each every moment of the voyage. Between 4 and 5 P. M. the funeral service was read by the Rev. Mr. Reddall, and the body of the child was committed to the deep.
10th.—About half past 10 last night, an infant belonging to one of the prisoners died from the effects of a blood-vessel of the lungs ruptured about five weeks previously. About half past 3 this evening the reverend Mr. Reddall read the funeral service, and the body was committed to the deep. The reverend gentleman afterwards addressed the women (who were present as well on this as the former occasion) in an impressive moral exhortation, to which they paid the most respectful attention. Their conduct has been generally so good as to admit of no opportunity of using one word of animadversion as heretofore.
11th.—At 11 A. M. the Rev. Mr. Reddall read to the women in the prison a sermon which he had written for the particular occasion, admirably adapted to their situation. It was intended as an appeal to their feelings, and realized the expectations formed of its effects: there was not in fact a dry eye present. When he had concluded, I made a few observations expressive of my approbation of their general behaviour, and how much it gratified me to observe their gradual reformation. I now entertain scarcely a shadow of doubt that the great design of the Ladies’ Committee will be crowned with complete success.
14th.—Nothing remarkable has occurred since last date, the conduct of the prisoners being uniformly correct. The increasing heat of the weather,—the ship having advanced considerably within the tropics,—together with the full diet, have produced inflammatory symptoms among the prisoners, which it was necessary to treat with copious depletion, and other advisable means. I have satisfaction in observing them relieved by the above treatment.