Personal Narrative of Events, From 1799 to 1815

by William Stanhope Lovell

After one of our long summer cruises I got leave of absence for ten days, and travelled with a friend, an officer of the Royal Engineers, in his gig, across the country to Annapolis Royal; the scenery did not strike me as being particularly interesting. I saw a great deal of barren, dreary, uncultivated land, that wanted the hand of man to clear it, and make it “bring forth its fruit in due season.”

Driving along the road we frequently started coveys of spruce partridges. I used occasionally, when time permitted, to get a shot at them. These birds do not, like our partridges, take to the fields, but on rising from the ground always fly into fir trees; they are very stupid, and once in a tree will allow you to shoot them all, provided you begin with the lowest and proceed upwards.

I recollect at one place where we breakfasted after leaving Windsor, a large brown bear and two cubs had been caught during the night in a pit fall; the old one was shot in the pit, and the young ones kept alive, probably to be sent to England.

The native Mic Mac Indians are a poor race, those, at least, that I saw in Halifax and its neighbourhood. They are confined to a few families. They used to come to the town in their slight bark canoes, bringing game, and skins of the silver and black fox, and boxes made of the bark of the birch tree, ornamented with the small quills of the porcupine, dyed of various colours. I have often been in their wigwams, and always found the people civil. Some of the young squaws were passable, but the old women frightful. These wigwams are easily built: half a dozen poles placed triangularly and covered with the bark of the birch tree, is the general plan; the fire is in the middle of the hut, the smoke finding its way out at the top, and by the door-way. These habitations appear warm, and the inmates healthy. When travelling, the women carry their babies in a kind of basket, strapped to their back, which resembles the lower part of a fiddle-case, peeping out of which their little smoked faces have a curious appearance. After disposing of their wares, these people generally get drunk and fight, the men beating the squaws, who, in their turn, belabour the men. It not unfrequently happens that those who return by water contrive to upset their canoes, when they lose all the articles they have bought; it is, however, very rare that any of the crew are drowned. Fish of various sorts are most abundant, and the market very good. The harbour of Halifax is safe, but sometimes difficult to make, on account of the thick fogs, which in particular winds,—those from south-east to south-west,—hang about the coast.

A very provoking circumstance occurred to one of the lieutenants, who was a Welchman, and a married man, during a cruise, caused by a nanny-goat eating his letters that he had just received from England, previous to his having read them.

A schooner joined us at sea from Bermuda, bringing the mail and letters from there and Halifax, Nova Scotia. We all felt very anxious about news, for it was nearly ten months since we had heard from “sweet home;” in consequence of our being out cruising, and going from place to place, they had missed us.

The weather was squally when the above vessel joined us with the letters, and by the time her boat had reached us, and they were delivered to their owners, it was necessary to turn the hands up to reef the topsails. Poor M——, for fear his letters should get wet in his pocket, for it began to rain as well as blow, left them for safety on the rudder-head in the wardroom, and went on deck to his station. No sooner was the evolution performed than down he ran below, thinking, poor fellow! to have a nice, quiet reading of his two letters from his wife, giving an account of a new bit of mischief that had been added to his establishment during his absence, for he had left his wife near her confinement, previous to his leaving England. Now, only imagine M——’s rage, vexation, and consternation, on beholding Mrs. Taffy, the Welch goat, mounted on the rudder-head, very quietly eating up the letters. One was quite gone, and a very small corner of the other sticking out of the goat’s mouth, which she was endeavouring to masticate with all possible dispatch. “Nanny” was seized by the throat in a moment, and measures adopted to make her disgorge the precious writing, but all in vain, for she had taken such good care to bite them in small pieces, in order that they might the more easily be swallowed, and readily digested, that not a fragment larger than a crown piece was recovered, and he had to wait eight long months more, before he got others to tell him the contents of those, and give him information about his family.

This was a trial of temper. We commiserated, sympathised, and found fault with him for not putting them in his pocket, writing-desk, or any safer place than where he had left them; in short, he had all Job’s comforters, but was obliged to have recourse to Dame Patience, hoping that some other vessel might soon come from home and bring him others. Eight long months elapsed ere he received information from England—making in the whole nearly eighteen months—a vexatious period at any time, but still more so in his case. The goat had been used to run in and out of the ward-room, for she was a great pet, and generally after dinner had some biscuit and a little wine or grog given to her, which she was very fond of. After the unfortunate affair of the letters she was banished for a month. After that period it was forgotten, and she came in for her biscuit and grog as usual.

On one of our spring cruises, in May, 1810, we lost our captain (John Conn), who, in a fit of derangement, jumped overboard out of his stern cabin, and was drowned. He was a thorough seaman, and very much beloved by us all. He served in Lord Rodney’s fleet in the action of the 12th of April, 1782, and commanded the Dreadnought (98), at the battle of Trafalgar. He was mate of the Ramilies (74), Rear-Admiral Thomas Graves, when she was lost in that dreadful gale, which proved fatal to the Ville de Paris (110), Glorieux (74), Centaur (74), and various other men-of-war, transports, and merchant ships, in the gulf stream, not far from the latitude of Bermuda, when returning to England in August of that year with the prizes taken by Lord Rodney.