I now suppose myself at Detroit, and about to leave it for the purpose of crossing Lake Erie. I speak not in vanity, but to do justice to the hospitality of this city: I arrived here an entire stranger, and left the place surrounded by friends. How grateful to the traveller, worn down by fatigue, is the hand of friendship and the smile of approbation! Upon leaving the Government wharf, I felt more than I should be willing to express:—The world do [135] not understand the language of the heart. I consider myself under particular obligations to A. G. W. Esquire. He voluntarily sought my acquaintance, and in the most interesting manner convinced me of his regard. This gentleman is conspicuous for his independence and literary attainments; but his greatest characteristic is native modesty.
Whilst at Detroit, I was much interested and amused by the conduct of an Indian; both by the principles upon which he acted, and the manner with which he displayed them. One morning, whilst conversing with my friend Doctor W. in came an Indian, and putting a finger to his mouth said, with a patient aspect and in a plaintive tone, “very sick.” The poor fellow had been suffering much from the tooth-ache, and he wished to have it extracted. He sat down, and placing his hands together, and interlocking his fingers he evinced, during the operation, much stoicism mingled with an interesting resignation. After the tooth was removed, he asked for whiskey; and immediately upon drinking it gravely marched off, leaving his tooth as the only compensation for the whiskey and surgical aid.
In going down the river Detroit, I was so happy as to have the society of General Macomb, Major M. Capt. W. and Lieut. B.
The river, a mile below the city, is much wider than it is opposite to that place; and a little further down there is a narrow and marshy island about four miles in length. Here we landed and refreshed ourselves from the General’s provision baskets. Upon this island we found an almost innumerable number of ducks; they were heard in the grass in every direction. Vast flocks of wild fowl are almost continually swimming in the river Detroit.
Soon after leaving this island we arrived at Grose Isle.[[129]] The latter divides the river into two channels. [136] Its soil appears to be good, and its timber valuable. Upon this island, situated about three miles above Malden, there is a small fort in which the United States have stationed a few troops. The situation is very pleasant; and as a military post, is of consequence. A little below this place is a beautiful summer residence belonging to General Macomb, and which, I believe, is called St. Helena. The outlet to Lake Erie, between Malden and the adjoining land, is very narrow. Malden itself is a wretched looking place. It appears, indeed, like a scalp shop. One store, a warehouse, and a few small buildings constitute the whole of this celebrated position. I saw no inhabitants there excepting two or three crippled Indians.
After remaining one night at Grose Isle, I proceeded to Malden, and from thence entered the lake. During the night the wind was high, and we run back a considerable way to avoid several islands called the Sisters. Towards morning, the wind being fair, we continued our course. At daylight we experienced a gale of wind, and run for Put-in-Bay. Our Captain was a very experienced seaman, and perfectly understood the navigation of the lake; but having got among a cluster of little islands, situated near the bay, he was, for a moment, bewildered. Our situation was highly interesting. The darkness of the gale seemed to contend with the dawn; and fancy could almost see it hold the reins of the car of day. The waves dashed, our sloop ploughed the foam, many little islands reared, through night, their ragged tops, our Captain exclaimed, “where are we?” and all was hurly. We were now passing over the battle waves of the gallant Perry. Our little gunless keel moved where whole fleets had stormed. In fancy’s ear, the cannon’s roar had not ceased to reverberate; the undulating wave seemed [137] anxious to bury the dead; the wind, through our scanty shrouds, whispered in the ear of death; and the green wave, reddened by battle, greedily sported around our sides.[[130]]
Many of the islands near the Bay are not larger than a dwelling house. Their sides consist of ragged rocks, and on their summits are a few weather-beaten trees.
The storm continuing, we remained at anchor in Put-in-Bay four days. During this time I frequently went ashore, and surveyed the island of this name. Wild fowl are numerous here, and in the woods there are swine. The island is uninhabited. Its soil and the growth of its timber are very good. The former abounds with limestone.
This island is rendered interesting by its forming the bay in which our fleet was moored both before and after its great victory; and also by its containing the graves of some of those who fell in the engagement. My visit to these graves excited melancholy reflections. The parade and confusion of battle had passed; and nothing was heard but the chill blast, wending its devious way through the rank weeds. So bloody was this battle, that the victor himself might well have mourned.
It was natural for me here to reflect upon our naval history. During the Revolution our prowess upon the ocean promised every thing; and in the late war even the prophecies of philosophy, and the inspirations of liberty, were distanced. But I must speak of Renown! Where is our Wasp?[[131]] True glory was her object; and she returns not for earthly honours. Langdon and Toscin sleep in France:[[132]]—they were buds of fame. Lawrence fell, like Hector, by the shaft of fate.[[133]] My memory is full of valour’s sons; but they need not the eulogy of my pen.