The tempest gradually subsided, and at the end of two or three days scarcely a breath of wind was to be felt. Angry Nature had changed her frowns for sportive smiles; the face of the great deep was like polished glass; but there was a long swell of the ocean, apparently of miles in length; its bosom heaving and sinking, as if still oppressed with its late troubles. Our ship lay utterly unmanageable, her sails flapping idly against the masts. There was not sufficient wind to make her answer the helm; and there we lay, rolling and plunging, expecting every moment to see our masts go by the board. The lower yards dipped at every roll; and so great was the strain, that it drew the strong iron ring-bolts by which the guns were secured, and the lashings which fastened the large water-butts broke loose. This was at night; and the power and speed with which these heavy articles were driven from side to side was truly terrific. It took all hands the whole night, (and not without great danger) to secure them. The next day, a new and greater danger presented itself in a different form. A large ship, about the size of our own, lay in the same helpless condition; and by reason of a current, or some other cause, approached so near that it became truly alarming. Both vessels were rolling their keels nearly out of the water; and had they come in contact, it would have been certain destruction to both. It was necessary that something should be done immediately; and the crews of both vessels were ordered into their respective boats, with lines attached to the ships; and with several hours’ hard labor at the oars, they were enabled to separate them.
It was about this time that I had a view, not of the Flying Dutchman exactly, but of his ship, while standing on the forecastle early one morning. There had been a fog during the night, and a portion of the vapor still hung over the surface of the water. I had remained in that position but a few moments, when my attention was called by the boatswain’s-mate, who stood near by: ‘Look yonder!’ said he, pointing with his finger. I looked in the direction indicated, and lo! there lay the mystic ‘Phantom Ship.’ She was only a few yards off; perfectly becalmed, with no more motion than if painted on canvass, and apparently not over six feet long, yet perfect in every respect. I was gazing in admiration, with my eyes rivetted upon the object, when there came a light breath of air, so light that I could hardly feel it; presently the mist began gradually to rise and disperse; the ship began to recede; the magic scene was at an end! A breeze had sprung up, and the phantom-ship proved to be one of the fleet; and by a signal from the Commodore, she took her station in line with the other vessels. I never saw any thing like it before nor since. The atmospheric delusion was astonishing; but it was nothing new to the old boatswain’s-mate. All the other vessels were obscured by the fog, and this happened to be the nearest to us. Had the others been in sight they might (or might not) have presented the same appearance. Possibly the position of that particular ship helped to produce the effect. The sight of so large a fleet formed in two lines, extending four or five miles, each convoyed by a man-of-war, like a troop of soldiers led on in single-file by its officers, was ‘beautiful exceedingly;’ especially when the rising or setting sun illuminated their white sails, and a signal-gun from the Commodore changed their course; every ship in that vast fleet, at the cry of ‘About ship!’ moving as by one mind, and gracefully bowing to, and as it were saluting, the breeze! It was a scene never to be forgotten.
The wind gradually increased until it became a smart breeze, and we soon neared the Island of St. Helena. Here we first heard of the downfall of Napoleon, the greatest warrior of all ages; one who struck such terror into the souls of combined Europe, that they dared not let him go free, and imposed upon Great Britain the honorable task of becoming his jailor; and her very heart quaked within her bosom while life remained in his; doomed though he was to perpetual and hopeless exile, upon an isolated rock in the midst of the ocean. On seeing the yellow flags, with the motto ‘Orange boven,’ flying at the mast-heads of the shipping, and hearing of the overthrow of the power of France, our old Dutch boatswain’s-mate, (who in his youth had served with the brave Admiral De Winter, and who had braved the ‘battle and the breeze’ for more than half a century,) was touched to the very depths of his stout heart. He was completely melted, and wept like a child over the fallen fortunes of Napoleon. ‘Holland,’ said he, ‘has lost her best friend. Who like him will watch over and protect my country!’ He was naturally of a cheerful disposition; but from that time to the close of the voyage, he appeared sad and disheartened, and a smile scarce ever came over his countenance. I may remark in passing, that there were on board of our ship some ten or fifteen Dutch prisoners, who were the remnant of a large force that had formerly been garrisoned at the island of Java. All but these few had been gradually wasted away by pestilence and the poisoned spears and knives of the natives; and Holland, being so much engaged in her wars at home, had no means of aiding so distant a colony. Such was their condition when the island fell into the hands of the English; and they were rescued from destruction by the natives, only by becoming prisoners of war to the English. They were all old men, and some of them could speak a little English: they used to relate to me their former condition, and talk of their future prospects. The tale was a sad one. When young they were ‘kidnapped,’ as they termed it, by the government, as no volunteers could be got to serve in that sickly climate. They were forced from home and their parents at a tender age and sent to that far country, whence they had no prospect of ever returning, or hearing from their friends. Some of them had been absent for forty years, during which time they had seen none of their connexions, and seldom heard from them; for many years all intercourse had been dropped. They felt themselves entire strangers in the world; they were going to Holland to be sure, but not to their home. After the lapse of so many years, where could they seek for their friends? Death and other causes had removed and scattered them; and they almost dreaded the time when they should again set their feet upon the land of their fathers. Having been many months their associate in imprisonment, I took a deep interest in these poor fellows; participated in their feelings, and parted from them with regret. Peace to their memories! They have without doubt long ere this ended their weary pilgrimage of life.
We remained at St. Helena several weeks, waiting for the China fleet, during which time we took in a fresh supply of provisions, water, etc. This now famed island is nothing more nor less than a huge irregular block of granite, rising perpendicularly from the midst of the sea. The town, what there is of it, is built in a gully or chasm in the rock: the inhabitants are composed mostly of the military establishment and those connected with it, with perhaps a few exceptions. The island is only useful as a stopping-place for outward and homeward bound India-men, etc; and the inhabitants would be in a state of starvation, were it not for the supplies of provisions which they obtain from the shipping which put in there. All manner of coins from all manner of countries are in circulation here; and all copper coin goes for a penny, be it twice the size of a dollar, or as small as a five-cent piece. A person that way minded might soon make a large and curious collection here.
The China fleet now made its appearance, and after a few days’ delay we all got under weigh, with a convoy of a frigate, a sloop-of-war, and a transport full of troops, who on their arrival in England were ordered immediately to the United States, where they were sadly cut up at the battle of New-Orleans. We left the island with a stiff breeze, which continued with fine clear weather for several days. The fleet amounted to over seventy sail, and was arranged in two lines; and in fine weather, with all sail set, we composed a beautiful spectacle. During the whole of the voyage the utmost precaution was used to prevent an attack or capture by privateers, or national vessels of the enemy. Lights of every kind were strictly forbidden at night, except through a special order from a superior officer, and a double watch was kept day and night.
‘Land, ho!’ cried the look-out at the mast-head, one day. It proved to be what is termed the Western Islands, which lay directly ahead of us. ‘Sail, ho!’ was the next cry; and all eyes were turned toward the strangers. They were two ‘long, low, black-looking schooners,’ lying-to very quietly, about three miles ahead. ‘See the d——d Yankees!’ shouted all hands, in full chorus, as the American flag was displayed at their gaff. A thrill shot through my nerves; my heart swelled, and my eyes filled with tears, as I beheld the Flag of my Country for the first time for many months. No one can imagine the love he bears his native land, until he tests it as I have done. Many were the speculations as to the probability of capturing the saucy privateersman; for by this time all the sail that the convoy could possibly set was spread in chase of the enemy, who as yet had made no attempt to fly, although apparently but a stone’s throw ahead of us. Our captain was the only one in my hearing who seemed to doubt their being taken: ‘The d——d scamps know too well,’ said he, ‘what their craft can do, to trust themselves so near us.’ We now appeared close on board of them, and the chase well under way, when each fired a gun in defiance or derision, and darted off like birds. It was now nearly dark, and we were not far from land, for which one of the schooners seemed to fly right before the wind, closely pursued by the frigate, under all the canvass she could set. The other put out to sea, close-hauled upon the wind. The brig and transport, the fastest craft in the fleet, crowded all sail, but without nearing the schooner, as she could lie at least two points more to windward than her pursuers. They both escaped! The frigate being disabled, by springing her fore-top-mast, gave up the chase; the others relinquished the pursuit as fruitless, and rejoined the fleet.
The night was extremely dark; and the next morning two large vessels were missing. It seemed that the privateers had returned, and hovering around, watched their opportunity, and captured two of our most richly-freighted ships; but as those seas were swarming with British cruisers, they were shortly re-captured and sent to England, where the whole fleet soon arrived. The West-India fleet came into port about the same time; and the amount of wealth brought into London by the safe arrival of the Bengal, China, and West-India fleets, must have been almost incredible. For myself, I was consigned to a dreary prison, ‘as will more particularly appear’ in an ensuing number.
A VERITABLE SEA STORY.
BY HARRY FRANCO.
‘The sea, the sea, the o—pen sea, the blue, the fresh;’ but here we halt;