After having thoroughly read over my letters, I had leisure to think of my companions. Some, I could see by the expression of the eyes, and nervous exhilarated step, had received good news from home; others, by their troubled air, displayed their reception of unwelcome tidings; whilst those who had received none, either walked alone with compressed lip and lowering brow, refusing all sympathy, or strove by an affected gayety to laugh off the carelessness of their people in not writing.
As the reception of a letter from home, by the seaman, after a long cruise, exhilarates, and encourages him, developing all the best principles of his nature, so, on the other hand, the least inattention or slight on the part of his friends, depresses him; and, on arriving in port where he has long expected intelligence; on being disappointed he goes ashore and is ready to engage in any dissipation, apologizing to himself for his departure from virtue, by the reflection that nobody cares for him, or else they would take the trouble to write to him. Mark a case in point. One of our crew, a Massachusetts boy nearly approaching to manhood, had, for months, talked and thought of nothing but his news and letters from home at St. Helena. He had, to my knowledge, written some twenty-five letters; heretofore he had received no letters from home, but thought, of course, they had written, and their missives were aboard ships we had not seen. Meantime, he had been at work for months, manufacturing trinkets and other articles from ivory, for the purpose of presenting them to his friends and relatives. On arriving at St. Helena, there was not a word or line from home for him. I never saw a person so depressed; his trinkets were given away or sold, and he asserted it as his firm determination, when he did land in the United States, not to go home.
Mothers who wish to keep their sons in the path of virtue, and sisters who cherish a brother’s memory, when far away upon the sea, would do well to bear this fact in mind, and be careful to write, so that at every civilized port the object of their solicitude may receive intelligence from home; this, by a little inquiry at the outset of the voyage, can be easily arranged. It does not make so much difference about the reception of letters at sea, for there but few temptations to the grosser paths of sin are experienced; but when, after a long and arduous cruise, his ship enters port, he feels need of relaxation, and, unless reminded of home and kindred, he easily falls a prey to the wiles of the courtezan and the publican, who are ever on the alert to entrap the unwary and inexperienced.
But it is time that I should return to my original topic—the consideration of the Island of St. Helena and its residents. Not having had opportunity to go ashore myself, I must see it through the eyes of others and describe it from their lips. Here comes the boat’s crew; it consists of six, who, although dressed alike and of the same country, vastly differ in sentiment. First, we will ask the less refined of the lot—those two whose reckless, careless air, bespeak them jovial, hearty fellows, ever ready for a lark without thinking of or caring for consequences—their answer to my inquiry as to what kind of place it was, being characteristic of their class (which is largely represented in the whaling fleet), “That Jamestown is a sailor’s paradise.” “Why so, my hearty?” “Because there is neither lack of women nor wine.”
We will now turn to the next comer; he is a Western man, from Milwaukie, Wisconsin, of Scotch parentage, has been with us all the voyage, and is one of the best and most reliable men in the ship; to a naturally strong mind, he unites an acute perception of men and manners, and, withal, a high moral tone pervades all he says and does.
His statement was, that on going ashore he found a stepping-stone, some twenty feet in width, in front of the town, for the convenience of boats landing; they pulled to it and landed, but the swell continually heaving in, rendered it impossible to moor the boat without certainly calculating on her being stoven; so a couple of the boys, of whom numbers were swarming along ashore, were entrusted with her, and our fellows went on a cruise about the town. He described the town as not unlike other colonial cities, with the usual number of government buildings, and red-coated soldiery standing guard, as if to keep these massive stone heaps from escaping. The inhabitants were of all colors, from black to white, each moving in its particular sphere. The blacks are slaves, captured by British cruisers, and sent here to labor and pay the expenses of their capture. Some months since, a cargo of six hundred of these Africans was landed in Rupert’s Valley; they were awarded by the Government a twelvemonths’ stay at St. Helena; at the expiration of the year they were to be sent to the British West Indian possessions to be disposed of as apprentices. The other inhabitants of St. Helena are bitterly opposed to the introduction of these creatures into their quiet island, stating that they are indolent and insolent to an extreme degree, and are firmly persuaded that the island is a part of Africa and belongs to them. The inhabitants have petitioned the queen for their removal, but she has declined complying with their request.
D.’s principal object in going ashore was to deliver several letters, which had been handed to him by natives of St. Helena, on board ships in the Indian Ocean. One of the parties he found, and made a mother’s heart glad by tidings of the good health of her son; after perusing it, she loaded the bearer of the missive with thanks. Another party, for whom he had a letter, was dead; this was from a son who had not seen home or parents for six years. I heard him speak of his home and his anticipated return; but, alas! he will find a cheerless hearthstone—his parents dead, and none but strangers to yield him sympathy.
These people, or rather those who are natives, are brunettes. A number of the children, who were on our vessel, seemed to be perfectly at home upon the water. Their voices are peculiarly sweet, and we were enlivened by these youngsters singing a number of whaling and naval songs; and the spirit with which they entered into the performance, rendered a prophecy of their future callings in life a matter of certainty and easy augury.
I have before me the St. Helena Almanac for 1858, which contains much information regarding the island—its trade, and inhabitants. From it I learn that the population numbers five thousand four hundred and ninety souls, and to attend to the health of this population, there is but one doctor of medicine; so here is a fair held for any Yankee disciple of Esculapius who wishes for employment, and does not object to leaving home to find it.
The amount of importation for the year 1856, reached the sum of one hundred and one thousand five hundred and sixty-two pounds, of which one-fourth was through American whaleships engaged in the South Sea fishery; the balance was from all parts of the world. The exports for the same time amounted to twenty-four thousand nine hundred and twenty-five pounds, twenty-two thousand five hundred and eighty-five pounds of which was to the United States. These facts show the importance of the whaling trade to the revenue of the island.