The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“What—you don’t mean to say so!—did Mr Foley escape with you?” exclaimed the old mate, his countenance falling, and his whole air changing in a moment. Gerald then, with infinite satisfaction, described the way he and the lieutenant had been left on board the Ouzel Galley. Not being required just then, he dived into the berth to recount his adventures to the rest of his messmates.

In a short time the two frigates came in, and anchored near the Champion, where already lay several other large ships of war forming the Jamaica fleet, under the command of Admiral Cotes. Gerald found his messmates not very much out of spirits at the loss of Beater. The old mate’s body lay between two guns, covered by an ensign; and it, with that of two other men who had been killed, was carried on shore and buried in the graveyard of Port Royal, where so many gallant British seamen sleep their last.

Meantime Mr Ferris and Ellen had gone on shore, escorted by Lieutenant Foley. Those were the palmy days of Kingston. Men-of-war and privateers were constantly coming in with rich prizes, whose cargoes added greatly to the wealth of the city; the streets were crowded with blacks carrying bales of all descriptions to the stores; merchants’ clerks were hurrying to the quays to superintend the unloading of vessels, and naval and military officers were moving about in all directions; the seamen on leave were rolling here and there, shouting forth their sea ditties; while black and brown women with baskets of fruit and vegetables were standing at the corners of the streets, often surrounded by a party of Jack-tars, who quickly emptied them of their contents.

A short walk soon brought the lieutenant and his friends to the counting-house of Mr Thomas Twigg, the agent of the firm, and a relative of one of the partners. They were at once shown to a large airy room over the office, looking out on the harbour, containing a table spread for luncheon, consisting of numerous West Indian delicacies. Mr Twigg, of course, pressed the lieutenant to remain.

“You don’t know whether your ship has come in, and even if she has, they’ve got on very well without you, and an hour more or less can make no difference,” he observed. Norman Foley was in no hurry to take his departure. “Mr and Miss Ferris are coming to my pen, about five miles off,” continued Mr Twigg, “and I hope you will accompany them. We shall start in about a couple of hours, when there will be more shade on the road than there is at present.”

The lieutenant, very unwillingly, was compelled to decline the invitation, but agreed to remain to see his friends off. On hearing of Gerald, Mr Twigg insisted on sending on board the Ouzel Galley to invite him, and Gerald afterwards found that in his eagerness to witness the disappointment of his messmate he had thereby lost a pleasant expedition, he having left the ship before the message arrived on board; but, soon afterwards, who should come in but Captain Olding, who was so delighted to find that his lieutenant and midshipman had escaped, that he at once gave them both leave to accept Mr Twigg’s invitation. Norman Foley had the happiness of accompanying Ellen in one carriage, while Mr Ferris and his friend, who had much to talk about, went in another. Ellen was, of course, delighted with the scenery and the tropical vegetation, so new to her, though she possibly did not examine them as minutely as she might have done under other circumstances: Norman would have to leave her in a day or two, and he might not return for a long time. She had heard her father say that he expected shortly to accompany Mr Twigg to an estate on the other side of the island, and even should Norman’s ship come into Port Royal, he might not be able to pay her a visit. Of course he promised to come if he could, even though he might be able to remain only a few hours. Bellevue was a beautiful spot about fifty miles off, on the other side of the Blue Mountains, a short distance from Saint Ann’s Bay, and Norman hoped that his ship might be cruising off the north coast, and that he would then have an opportunity of seeing her. At all events, they neither of them were more unhappy than was necessary at the thoughts of their approaching separation.

On their arrival at East Mount, Mr Twigg’s country house, Ellen was amused by the number of black slaves who rushed out to receive them, chattering and laughing, and doing their best to welcome the strangers. The house was a one-storied building, with a broad verandah round it, standing on the summit of a hill of considerable elevation overlooking the plain, with Kingston and the harbour in the distance; it was thus exposed to the sea breeze, so necessary to anything like enjoyment in the tropics. Mrs Twigg, a buxom little lady—a fitting partner to her sprightly, jovial spouse—received Ellen with a hearty welcome to Jamaica. She evidently saw how matters stood between her and the young lieutenant, and, as far as her sense of the duties of a hostess would allow her, left them together as much as they could desire, while Mr Ferris and her husband were for the greater part of the day absent at Kingston. Those two days while Norman remained at East Mount were among the brightest they had hitherto enjoyed. The place seemed a perfect Eden, with its green lawn kept ever verdant by the sparkling stream which flowed down on one side from the hill above, bordered by the graceful and variously shaped trees of the tropics—the tall maple arrow, surrounded by its flowering crown of yellow; the Spanish needle, with its dagger-like leaves; the quilled pimploe, a species of cactus; and numberless others, from the branches of which hung lilac and purple wreaths in rich festoons—while the sweet notes of the feathered songsters ever and anon burst forth, and here and there could be seen tiny humming-birds flitting from flower to flower, fluttering for a moment and then darting off with the speed of lightning, their gem-like plumage glittering in the sun.

Ellen and Norman, though they often talked of the past, spoke most of the future, when he should have gained his promotion, and, the war being over, might quit the service without dishonour and live on shore.

After arranging his affairs in Jamaica, which he believed would occupy some months, Mr Ferris proposed returning to Ireland. He intended to make the voyage in the Ouzel Galley when she could sail under safe convoy. In the mean time he expected to spend two or three months at Bellevue, and Norman hoped that they might there again meet. Happily for themselves, they were ignorant of the dark storm which was brewing over the island.

At length Norman’s leave expired, and he had to return on board the Champion. A few days afterwards Mr Ferris and Ellen, accompanied by Mr and Mrs Twigg and their family, set off across the island for Bellevue.