PERILS AND CAPTIVITY;

COMPRISING

THE SUFFERINGS OF THE PICARD FAMILY

AFTER THE SHIPWRECK OF THE MEDUSA, IN THE YEAR 1816.

NARRATIVE

OF THE CAPTIVITY OF M. DE BRISSON, IN THE YEAR 1785.

VOYAGE OF MADAME GODIN

ALONG THE RIVER OF THE AMAZONS, IN THE YEAR 1770.

EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR CONSTABLE AND CO.
AND
THOMAS HURST AND CO. LONDON.

1827.

PREFACE.

The expeditions in which it is attempted to explore unknown and distant oceans, are usually those which are most pregnant with adventure and disaster. But land has its perils as well as sea; and the wanderer, thrown into the unknown interior of the Continents of Africa and America, through regions of burning sand and trackless forest, occupied only by rude and merciless barbarians, encounters no less dreadful forms of danger and suffering. Several such examples are presented in the present volume, which exhibit peril, captivity, and 'hair-breadth escape,' in some of their striking and tragical results.

The catastrophe of the Medusa is already known to the public, as one of the most awful and appalling that ever befel any class of human beings. The Shipwreck, and the dreadful scenes on the Raft, have been recorded in the Narrative of Messrs Savigny and Corréard. But the adventures of the party who were cast ashore, and forced to find their way through the African Desert, could be reported only imperfectly by those gentlemen who were not eye-witnesses. This want is supplied in the first part of the present volume, which contains the Narrative by Mad. Dard, then Mademoiselle Picard, one of the suffering party, and for the translation of which, the Editor is much indebted to Mr Maxwell.

There is in it so much feeling and good sense, mixed with an amiable and girlish simplicity, as to render it particularly engaging. There is also something peculiarly gratifying to an Englishman in the reflection, that such disaster could not have befallen almost any British crew. It was evidently nothing but the utter and thorough selfishness which actuated the leaders and most of those on board both of the ship and the raft, which rendered the affair at all very serious. A wise plan formed and acted upon, with a view to the general good, would have enabled them, without difficulty, to save the crew, the cargo, and perhaps the vessel. The narrative of the shipwreck and journey is also combined with the adventures of an interesting Family, related in such a manner as to give them a strong hold in our sympathy.

The Second Part of the Volume has an affinity to that which has now been mentioned. The western coast of Africa, lying along a great maritime and commercial route, and being heavily encumbered by rocks and shoals, has been the theatre of frequent shipwrecks; and Europeans, when cast ashore, have always experienced the most dreadful fate from the inhuman and bigotted natives. Several relations of this nature have been lately published, but under somewhat of a romantic and dubious aspect. That of Brisson, here inserted, appears the most authentic, and at the same time to present the most interesting and varied train of vicissitudes; and although it is already not unknown to the English reader, its republication, we presume, will not be altogether unacceptable.

The Third Relation carries them into quite a different quarter of the world—to the shores of the mighty River of the Amazons in South America, and to the boundless forests and deserts by which it is bordered. We shall not anticipate the narrative of what befel Madame Godin in her voyage down this river; but it will not probably be denied to present as extraordinary a series of perils, adventures, and escapes, as are anywhere to be found on record. It is drawn from the account of the Mission of M. de la Condamine, sent, in 1743, by the French Government, along with M. Bouguer and other Academicians, to measure an arc of the meridian, under the latitude of Quito, and thus ascertain the figure of the earth. This forms a well known and respectable source; but the Mission being directed almost exclusively to scientific objects, the narrative may not perhaps have often met the eye of the general reader.

Edinburgh, August 1827.

CONTENTS.

I.

HISTORY OF THE SUFFERINGS AND MISFORTUNES OF THE PICARD FAMILY,

AFTER THE SHIPWRECK OF THE MEDUSA, ON THE WESTERN COAST OF AFRICA,

IN THE YEAR 1816.

FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME DARD, ONE OF THE SUFFERERS.

BY P. MAXWELL, Esq.

THIS TRANSLATION
OF MADAME DARD'S NARRATIVE
OF HER
SHIPWRECK AND MISFORTUNES,
IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED
TO
MISS AGNES MALCOLM,
BY HER AFFECTIONATE AND GRATEFUL COUSIN,
THE TRANSLATOR.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

The following pages are translated from the "African Cottage," of Mad. Dard.[1] They contain no romance, but a well authenticated story, corroborated by the previous Narrative of MM. Corréard and Savigny. Those gentlemen have detailed their sufferings on the fatal raft, after the disastrous shipwreck of the Medusa frigate; but the account concerning those who escaped, by aid of their boats, to the shores of Sahara, deficient in their recital, is supplied by Madame Dard, who was present at all the scenes she relates. Interwoven with the Narrative, is an interesting account of the Picard Family, whose wrongs cannot fail to excite pity, and to engage those feeling hearts in her favour, to whom the fair authoress has addressed the story of her misfortunes.

[1] "La Chaumière Africaine; ou, Histoire d'une Famille Française jetée sur la côté occidentale de l'Afrique, à la suite du naufrage de la Frégate la Meduse. Par Mme. Dard, née Charlotte Adelaide Picard, aînée de cette famille, et l'une des naufragés de la Meduse." Dijon. 1824, 12mo.

There is not, on the records of misery, an instance of more severe and protracted suffering; and I trust there is not, nor ever will be any, where human nature was more foully outraged and disgraced. There are, nevertheless, some pleasing traits of character in the story, and, I am proud to say, some of the brightest of them belong to our own nation. These present a beautiful relief to the selfishness and brutality which so much abound in the dark picture; and are, to our minds, the green spots of the Desert—the fountain and the fruit-tree—as they were in very truth, to the poor wretches they assisted with such genuine singleness of heart.

To the end of the Narrative I have subjoined an Appendix, translated and abridged from the work of MM. Corréard and Savigny, detailing at greater length the sufferings of those who were exposed upon the Raft. I have also added some Notes, extracted from several Authors, illustrative of various matters mentioned in the course of the Narrative.

It may be satisfactory for some readers to know, that, in 1824, Madame Dard was living with her husband in comfort at Bligny-sous-Beaune, a short distance from Dijon. I have lately seen in a French Catalogue, a Dictionary and Grammar of the Woloff and Bambara languages, by M. J. Dard, Bachelier des Sciences, Ancien Instituteur de l'Ecole du Sénégal, brought out under the auspices of the French Government.

Patrick Maxwell.
Edinburgh, July 1827.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

Those who have read the Account of the Shipwreck of the Medusa, by MM. Savigny and Corréard, are already acquainted with the Picard family.

Attracted to Senegal by a faint prospect of advantage, my father, head of that unfortunate family, could not, in spite of a good constitution and the strength of his spirits, resist that destiny, from the mortal influence of which none of us save three escaped out of a family of nine. On his deathbed, he expressed to me the desire that our misfortunes should not remain unknown. This then became my duty, and a duty sacred to the public. I feel a pleasure in fulfilling it, and consolation in the thought, that no feeling mind will read the story of our misfortunes without being affected; and that those who persecuted us will at least experience some regret.

The recital of the shipwreck of the Medusa was necessary, as much to explain the origin of our misfortunes, as the cause of the connexion between that disastrous event, and the terrible journey in the Desert of Sahara, by which we at last reached Senegal. It will furnish me, also, with an opportunity of adverting to some errors in the work of Messrs Savigny and Corréard.

It only now remains for me to crave the indulgence of the reader for my style. I trust such will not be refused to one who has dared to take the pen, only in compliance with a father's dying request.

SHIPWRECK OF THE MEDUSA.

CHAPTER I.

M. PICARD MAKES HIS FIRST VOYAGE TO AFRICA, LEAVING AT PARIS HIS WIFE AND TWO YOUNG DAUGHTERS—DEATH OF MADAME PICARD—THE CHILDREN TAKEN HOME TO THE HOUSE OF THEIR GRANDFATHER—RETURN OF M. PICARD AFTER NINE YEARS ABSENCE—HE MARRIES AGAIN, AND DEPARTS A SHORT WHILE AFTER, WITH ALL HIS FAMILY, FOR SENEGAL—DESCRIPTION OF THE JOURNEY BETWEEN PARIS AND ROCHEFORT.

About the beginning of 1800, my father solicited and obtained the situation of resident attorney at Senegal, on the west coast of Africa. My mother was then nursing my youngest sister, and could not be persuaded to expose us, at so tender an age, to the fatigue and danger of so long a voyage. At this period I was not quite two years old.

It was then resolved that my father should go alone, and that we should join him on the following year; but my mother's hopes were disappointed, war having rendered impossible all communication with our colonies. In despair, at a separation which placed her nearly two thousand leagues from her husband, and ignorant how long it might continue, she soon after fell into a languid condition; and death deprived us of her, at the end of five years of suffering. My grandfather, at whose house we had hitherto lived, now became both father and mother to us; and I owe it to the good old man to say, that his care and attention soon made us forget we were orphans. Too young to reflect, that the condition of happiness which we enjoyed under his guardianship would ever have an end, we lived without a care for the future, and our years glided on in perfect tranquillity.

Thus were we living when, in 1809, the English captured the colony of Senegal, and permitted our father to return to his family. But what a change did he meet with on his arrival at Paris! Wife, home, furniture, friends, had all disappeared; and nothing remained but two young daughters, who refused to acknowledge him for their father: so much were our young minds habituated to see and love but one in the world—the worthy old man who had watched over our infancy.

In 1810, our father thought fit to marry a second time; but a great misfortune befel his children in the death of their grandfather. Our tears were scarcely dry, when we were conducted home to her who had become our second mother. We would hardly acknowledge her. Our sorrow was excessive, and the loss we had sustained irreparable. But they strove to comfort us; dresses, playthings, amusements in abundance, were given to us to obliterate the loss of our best friend. In this state of perfect happiness we were living, when the armies of the Allies entered Paris in 1814.

France having had the good fortune to recover her King, and with him the blessing of peace, an expedition was fitted out at Brest to go and resume possession of Senegal, which had been restored to us. My father was instantly reinstated in his place of resident attorney, and went in the month of November to Brest.

As our family had become more numerous since the second marriage of my father, he could only take with him our stepmother and the younger children. My sister Caroline and myself were placed in a boarding school at Paris, until the Minister of Marine and the Colonies would grant us a passage; but the events of 1815 caused the expedition to Senegal to be abandoned, while it was still in the harbour of Brest, and all the officers dismissed. My father then returned to Paris, leaving at Brest my stepmother, who was then in an unfit condition for travelling.

In 1816, a new expedition was fitted out. My father was ordered to repair to Rochefort, whence it was to set off. He took measures also for taking along with him his wife, who had remained at Brest during the "hundred days." The design of our accompanying him to Africa, obliged him to address a new petition to the Minister of Marine, praying him to grant us all a passage, which he obtained.

The 23d of May was the day on which we were to quit the capital, our relations and friends. In the meanwhile, my sister and myself left the boarding school where we had been placed, and went to take farewell of all those who were dear to us. One cousin, who loved us most tenderly, could not hear of our approaching departure without shedding tears; and as it was impossible for her to change our destiny, she offered to share it. Immediately she appeared before the minister, and M. le Baron Portal, struck with a friendship which made her encounter the dangers of so long a voyage, granted her request.

At last, a beautiful morning announced to us the afflicting moment when we were to quit Paris. The postilion, who was to convey us to Rochefort, was already at the door of the house in which we lived, to conduct us to his carriage, which waited for us at the Orléans gate. Immediately an old hackney coach appeared; my father stept into it, and in an instant it was filled. The impatient coachman cracked his whip, sparks flashed from the horse's feet, and the street of Lille, which we had just quitted, was soon far behind us. On arriving before the garden of the Luxumbourg, the first rays of the morning's sun darted fiercely through the foliage, as if to say, you forsake the zephyrs in quitting this beautiful abode. We reached the Observatory, and in an instant passed the gate d'Enfer. There, as yet for a moment to breathe the air of the capital, we alighted at the Hotel du Pantheon, where we found our carriage. After a hasty breakfast, the postilion arranged our trunks, and off again we set. It was nearly seven in the morning when we quitted the gates of Paris, and we arrived that evening at the little village of d'Etampes, where our landlord, pressing us to refresh ourselves, almost burned his inn in making us an omelet with rotten eggs. The flames, ascending the old chimney, soon rose to the roof of the house, but they succeeded in extinguishing them. We were, however, regaled with a smoke which made us shed tears. It was broad day when we quitted d'Etampes; and our postilion, who had spent the greater part of the night in drinking with his comrades, was something less than polite. We reproached him, but he made light of the circumstance; for, in the evening, he was completely drunk. On the twenty-fifth of May, at ten in the morning, my father told me we were already thirty-two leagues from Paris. Thirty-two leagues! cried I; alas, so far! Whilst I made this reflection, we arrived at Orléans. Here we remained about three hours to refresh ourselves as well as our horses. We could not leave the place without visiting the statue raised in honour of Joan of Arc, that extraordinary woman, to whom the monarchy once owed its safety.

On leaving Orléans, the Loire, and the fertile pastures through which it rolls its waters, excited our admiration. We had on our right the beautiful vineyards of Beaugency. The road, as far as Amboise, is delightful. I then began to think, that Paris and its environs might perhaps be forgotten, if the country of Senegal, to which we were going, was as fine as that through which we were journeying. We slept at Amboise, which, being situated at the confluence of the Loire and the Maise, presents a most agreeable appearance.

When we set off, the sun began to show us verdant groves, watered by the majestic course of the river. His disk looked like a glorious lustre suspended in the azure vault of heaven. Our road was studded on both sides with lofty poplars, which seemed to shoot their pyramidal heads into the clouds. On our left was the Loire, and on our right a large rivulet, whose crystal waters every where reflected the bright beams of the sun. The birds, with their songs, celebrated the beauty of the day, whilst the dews, in the form of pearls, quivering fell from the tender boughs, fanned by the zephyrs. A thousand picturesque objects presented themselves to our view. On the one hand were delightful groves, the sweet flowers of which perfumed the air we breathed; on the other, a clear fountain sprang bubbling from the crevice of a rock, and, after falling from the top of a little hill among a tuft of flowers, bent its devious course to join the waters of the river. More distant, a small wood of filbert trees served as a retreat to the ringdoves who cooed, and the nightingales who chanted the spring.

We enjoyed this truly enchanting spectacle till we arrived at Tours. But as our route from Orléans had been diversified and agreeable, from the latter place to Rochefort it was monotonous and tiresome. However, the towns of Chatellerault, Poitiers, and Niort made a slight change in the sameness of the scene. From Niort to Rochefort the road was nearly impassable. We were frequently obliged to alight from the carriage, in order to allow the horses to drag it out from the deep ruts which we met. In approaching to a hamlet, named Charente, we stuck so fast in the mud, that even after removing the trunks and other baggage, we found it almost next to an impossibility to drag it out. We were in the midst of a wood, and no village within view. It was then resolved to wait till some good soul would be passing, who would assist to extricate us from our embarrassment. After vainly waiting a long hour for this expected succour, the first people who appeared were travelling merchants, who would not stay on any account to give us assistance. At length we saw a young lady upon a little path, which was at the extremity of the wood, walking with a book in her hand. My father instantly ran towards her, and acquainted her with our situation. This lady, far from acting like the travellers we formerly met, went to an adjoining field where were some farmers at work, and requested them to go with their oxen to free us from our jeopardy, and returned herself with them. When our carriage was put in a condition to continue our route, she invited us to refresh ourselves in her country seat, situated in the middle of the wood. We then took the cross-way, and returned with our carriage at the instance of the amiable lady, who received us in the most affable and generous manner. She offered us at first some pears, which were already very good; after which we were served with an exquisite collation, at the end of which a child, beautiful as the loves, presented us with a basket filled with the fairest flowers of the spring. We accepted the gift of Flora, in testimony of our regard for our generous landlady and her charming child. Traversing after that the park of our hospitable hostess, we rejoined the route to Rochefort.

In paying this just tribute of remembrance to the offices of that person who gave us so great assistance, I cannot resist the pleasure of mentioning her name. She is the wife of M. Télotte, superior officer of the general magazine at Rochefort.

Already the masts of the ships appeared in the horizon, and we heard in the distance a hollow and confused sound, like that made by a multitude of people engaged in various occupations. On approaching nearer to Rochefort, we found that the tumult we heard was caused by the labourers in the wood-yards and the galley-slaves, who, painfully dragging their fetters, attended to the various labours of the port. Having entered the town, the first picture which presented itself to our eyes was that of these unfortunate creatures, who, coupled two and two by enormous chains, are forced to carry the heaviest burdens. It may be mentioned, in passing, that the sight is not very attracting to young ladies who have never been out of Paris; for, in spite of all the repugnance we can have for those who are condemned by the laws to live apart from society, we can never look with indifference on that crowd of thinking beings, degraded, by following their vicious actions, to a level with the beasts of burden.

My mind was yet occupied with these painful reflections, when my father, opening the door of the carriage, requested us to follow him into an hotel in the street Dauphine, where already were our stepmother and our young brothers and sisters, who had returned with her from Brest. Soon our numerous family were again united. What transports of joy, what saluting and embracing! O! there is nothing comparable to the pleasure of meeting with those we love after a long absence!

My father went to visit the officers who were to make the voyage to Senegal along with us. My step-mother busied herself in preparing supper, and my sister Caroline, my cousin, and myself, went to sleep; for any farther exercise but ill accorded with the fatigue we had already undergone; otherwise we could easily have sat till supper, after having eat of the good things we had had at the farm of Charente.

We spent the morrow, the 3d of June, in running about the town. In the space of two hours we had seen every thing worth seeing. What a fine thing a maritime town is for a maker of romances! But as I have neither talents nor desire to write one, and as I have promised to the reader to adhere strictly to the truth, I will content myself by telling him, that in nine days I was tired of Rochefort.

CHAPTER II.

DEPARTURE FROM ROCHEFORT—THE PICARD FAMILY EMBARK IN THE MEDUSA FRIGATE—ACCOUNT OF THE VOYAGE TILL THEY REACH THE ARGUIN BANK.

Early on the morning of the 12th of June, we were on our way to the boats that were to convey us on board the Medusa, which was riding at anchor off the island of Aix, distant about four leagues from Rochefort. The field through which we passed was sown with corn. Wishing, before I left our beautiful France, to make my farewell to the flowers, and, whilst our family went leisurely forward to the place where we were to embark upon the Charente, I crossed the furrows, and gathered a few blue-bottles and poppies. We soon arrived at the place of embarkation, where we found some of our fellow-passengers, who, like myself, seemed casting a last look to Heaven, whilst they were yet on the French soil. We embarked, however, and left these happy shores. In descending the tortuous course of the Charente, contrary winds so impeded our progress, that we did not reach the Medusa till the morrow, having taken twenty-four hours in sailing four leagues. At length we mounted the deck of the Medusa, of painful memory. When we got on board, we found our births not provided for us, consequently were obliged to remain indiscriminately together till next day. Our family, which consisted of nine persons, was placed in a birth near the main deck. As the wind was still contrary, we lay at anchor for seventeen days.

On the 17th of June, at four in the morning, we set sail, as did the whole expedition, which consisted of the Medusa frigate, the Loire store-ship, the Argus brig, and the Echo corvette. The wind being very favourable, we soon lost sight of the green fields of l'Aunis. At six in the morning, however, the island of Rhé still appeared above the horizon. We fixed our eyes upon it with regret, to salute for the last time our dear country. Now, imagine the ship born aloft, and surrounded by huge mountains of water, which at one moment tossed it in the air, and at another plunged it into the profound abyss. The waves, raised by a stormy north-west breeze, came dashing in a horrible manner against the sides of our ship. I know not whether it was a presentiment of the misfortune which menaced us that had made me pass the preceding night in the most cruel inquietude. In my agitation, I sprang upon deck, and contemplated with horror the frigate winging its way upon the waters. The winds pressed against the sails with great violence, strained and whistled among the cordage; and the great hulk of wood seemed to split every time the surge broke upon its sides. On looking a little out to sea I perceived, at no great distance on our right, all the other ships of the expedition, which quieted me much. Towards ten in the morning the wind changed; immediately an appalling cry was heard, concerning which the passengers, as well as myself, were equally ignorant. The whole crew were in motion. Some climbed the rope ladders, and seemed to perch on the extremities of the yards; others mounted to the highest parts of the mast; these bellowing and pulling certain cordages in cadence; those crying, swearing, whistling, and filling the air with barbarous and unknown sounds. The officer on duty, in his turn, roaring out these words, starboard! larboard! hoist! luff! tack! which the helmsman repeated in the same tone. All this hubbub, however, produced its effect: the yards were turned on their pivots, the sails set, the cordage tightened, and the unfortunate sea-boys having received their lesson, descended to the deck. Every thing remained tranquil, except that the waves still roared, and the masts continued their creaking. However the sails were swelled, the winds less violent, though favourable, and the mariner, whilst he caroled his song, said we had a noble voyage.

During several days we did indeed enjoy a delightful passage. All the ships of the expedition still kept together; but at length the breeze became changeable, and they all disappeared. The Echo, however, still kept in sight, and persisted in accompanying us, as if to guide us on our route. The wind becoming more favourable, we held due south, sailing at the rate of sixty-two leagues a day. The sea was so fine, and our journey so rapid, that I began to think it nearly as agreeable to travel by sea as by land; but my illusion was not of long duration.

On the 28th of June, at six in the morning, we discovered the Peak of Teneriffe, towards the south, the summit of whose cone seemed lost among the clouds. We were then distant about two leagues, which we made in less than a quarter of an hour. At ten o'clock we brought to before the town of St Croix. Several officers got leave to go on shore to procure refreshments.

Whilst these gentlemen were away, a certain passenger, member of the self-instituted Philanthropic Society of Cape Verd,[2] suggested that it was very dangerous to remain where we were, adding that he was well acquainted with the country, and had navigated in all these latitudes. M. Le Roy Lachaumareys, Captain of the Medusa, believing the pretended knowledge of the intriguing Richefort, gave him the command of the frigate. Various officers of the navy, represented to the captain how shameful it was to put such confidence in a stranger, and that they would never obey a man who had no character as a commander. The captain despised these wise remonstrances; and, using his authority, commanded the pilots, and all the crew, to obey Richefort; saying he was king, since the orders of the king were, that they should obey him. Immediately the impostor, desirous of displaying his great skill in navigation, made them change the route for no purpose but that of showing his skill in manœuvring a ship. Every instant he changed the tack, went, came, and returned, and approached the very reefs, as if to brave them. In short, he beat about so much, that the sailors at length refused to obey him, saying boldly that he was a vile impostor. But it was done. The man had gained the confidence of Captain Lachaumareys, who, ignorant of navigation himself, was doubtless glad to get some one to undertake his duty. But it must be told, and told, too, in the face of all Europe, that this blind and inept confidence was the sole cause of the loss of the Medusa frigate, as well as of all the crimes consequent upon it.

[2] This Society, which was so ill named Philanthropic, was composed of sixty individuals of all nations, among whom figured Hébrard, Corréard,[3] Richefort, &c. They had obtained from government a free passage, and authority to go and cultivate the peninsula of Cape Verd; but that new colony afterwards ended like that of Champ-d'Asile.

[3] Not that Corréard, the coadjutor of Savigny, mentioned in the Author's preface. Trans.

Towards three in the afternoon, those officers who had gone on shore in the morning, returned on board loaded with vegetables, fruits, and flowers. They laughed heartily at the manœuvres that had been going on during their absence, which doubtless did not please the captain, who flattered himself he had already found in his pilot Richefort a good and able seaman: such were his words. At four in the afternoon we took a southerly direction. M. Richefort then beaming with exultation for having, as he said, saved the Medusa from certain shipwreck, continued to give his pernicious counsels to Captain Lachaumareys, persuading him he had been often employed to explore the shores of Africa, and that he was perfectly well acquainted with the Arguin Bank. The journals of the 29th and 30th afford nothing very remarkable.

The hot winds from the desert of Sahara began to be felt, which told us we approached the tropic; indeed, the sun at noon seemed suspended perpendicularly above our heads, a phenomenon which few among us had ever seen.

On the 1st of July, we recognised Cape Bojador, and then saw the shores of Sahara. Towards ten in the morning, they set about the frivolous ceremony which the sailors have invented for the purpose of exacting something from those passengers who have never crossed the line. During the ceremony, the frigate doubled Cape Barbas, hastening to its destruction. Captain Lachaumareys very good humouredly presided at this species of baptism, whilst his dear Richefort promenaded the forecastle, and looked with indifference upon a shore bristling with dangers. However that may be, all passed on well; nay, it may be even said that the farce was well played off. But the route which we pursued soon made us forget the short-lived happiness we had experienced. Every one began to observe the sudden change which had taken place in the colour of the sea, as we ran upon the bank in shallow water. A general murmur rose among the passengers and officers of the navy;—they were far from partaking in the blind confidence of the captain.

On the 2d of July, at five in the morning, the captain was persuaded that a large cloud, which was discovered in the direction of Cape Blanco, was that Cape itself. After this pretended discovery, they ought to have steered to the west, for about fifty leagues, to have gained sea room to double with certainty the Arguin Bank; moreover, they ought to have conformed to the instructions which the Minister of Marine had given to the ships which set out for Senegal. The other part of the expedition, from having followed these instructions arrived in safety at their destination. During the preceding night, the Echo, which had hitherto accompanied the Medusa, made several signals, but being replied to with contempt, abandoned us. Towards ten in the morning, the danger which threatened us was again represented to the Captain, and he was strongly urged, if he wished to avoid the Arguin Bank, to take a westerly course; but the advice was again neglected, and he despised the predictions. One of the officers of the frigate, from having wished to expose the intriguing Richefort, was put under arrest. My father, who had already twice made the voyage to Senegal, and who with various persons was persuaded they were going right upon the bank, also made his observations to the unfortunate pilot. His advice was no better received than those of Messrs Reynaud, Espiau, Maudet, &c. Richefort, in the sweetest tone, replied, "My dear, we know our business; attend to yours, and be quiet. I have already twice passed the Arguin Bank; I have sailed upon the Red Sea, and you see I am not drowned." What reply could be made to such a preposterous speech? My father, seeing it was impossible to get our route changed, resolved to trust to Providence to free us from our danger, and descended to our cabin, where he sought to dissipate his fears in the oblivion of sleep.

CHAPTER III.

THE MEDUSA FRIGATE RUNS AGROUND ON THE ARGUIN BANK—DESCRIPTION OF THE SHIPWRECK—A RAFT IS CONSTRUCTED—THEY SWEAR NOT TO ABANDON THOSE WHO WISH TO GO UPON IT.

At noon, on the 2d of July, soundings were taken. M. Maudet, ensign of the watch, was convinced we were upon the edge of the Arguin Bank. The Captain said to him, as well as to every one, that there was no cause of alarm. In the mean while, the wind blowing with great violence, impelled us nearer and nearer to the danger which menaced us. A species of stupor overpowered all our spirits, and every one preserved a mournful silence, as if they were persuaded we would soon touch the bank. The colour of the water entirely changed, a circumstance even remarked by the ladies. About three in the afternoon, being in 19° 30' north latitude, and 19° 45' west longitude, an universal cry was heard upon deck. All declared they saw sand rolling among the ripple of the sea. The Captain in an instant ordered to sound. The line gave eighteen fathoms; but on a second sounding it only gave six. He at last saw his error, and hesitated no longer on changing the route, but it was too late. A strong concussion told us the frigate had struck. Terror and consternation were instantly depicted on every face. The crew stood motionless; the passengers in utter despair. In the midst of this general panic, cries of vengeance were heard against the principal author of our misfortunes, wishing to throw him overboard; but some generous persons interposed, and endeavoured to calm their spirits, by diverting their attention to the means of our safety. The confusion was already so great, that M. Poinsignon, commandant of a troop, struck my sister Caroline a severe blow, doubtless thinking it was one of his soldiers. At this crisis my father was buried in profound sleep, but he quickly awoke, the cries and the tumult upon deck having informed him of our misfortunes. He poured out a thousand reproaches on those whose ignorance and boasting had been so disastrous to us. However, they set about the means of averting our danger. The officers, with an altered voice, issued their orders, expecting every moment to see the ship go in pieces. They strove to lighten her, but the sea was very rough and the current strong. Much time was lost in doing nothing; they only pursued half measures, and all of them unfortunately failed.

When it was discovered that the danger of the Medusa was not so great as was at first supposed, various persons proposed to transport the troops to the island of Arguin, which was conjectured to be not far from the place where we lay aground. Others advised to take us all successively to the coast of the desert of Sahara, by the means of our boats, and with provisions sufficient to form a caravan, to reach the island of Saint Louis, at Senegal. The events which afterwards ensued proved this plan to have been the best, and which would have been crowned with success; unfortunately it was not adopted. M. Schmaltz, the governor, suggested the making of a raft of a sufficient size to carry two hundred men, with provisions: which latter plan was seconded by the two officers of the frigate, and put in execution.

The fatal raft was then begun to be constructed, which would, they said, carry provisions for every one. Masts, planks, boards, cordage, were thrown over board. Two officers were charged with the framing of these together. Large barrels were emptied and placed at the angles of the machine, and the workmen were taught to say, that the passengers would be in greater security there, and more at their ease, than in the boats. However, as it was forgotten to erect rails, every one supposed, and with reason, that those who had given the plan of the raft, had had no design of embarking upon it themselves.

When it was completed, the two chief officers of the frigate publicly promised, that all the boats would tow it to the shore of the Desert; and, when there, stores of provisions and fire-arms would be given us to form a caravan to take us all to Senegal. Why was not this plan executed? Why were these promises, sworn before the French flag, made in vain? But it is necessary to draw a veil over the past. I will only add, that if these promises had been fulfilled, every one would have been saved, and that, in spite of the detestable egotism of certain personages, humanity would not now have had to deplore the scenes of horror consequent on the wreck of the Medusa!

On the 3d of July, the efforts were renewed to disengage the frigate, but without success. We then prepared to quit her. The sea became very rough, and the wind blew with great violence. Nothing now was heard but the plaintive and confused cries of a multitude, consisting of more than four hundred persons, who, seeing death before their eyes, deplored their hard fate in bitter lamentations. On the 4th, there was a glimpse of hope. At the hour the tide flowed, the frigate, being considerably lightened by all that had been thrown over board, was found nearly afloat; and it is very certain, if on that day they had thrown the artillery into the water, the Medusa would have been saved; but M. Lachaumareys said, he could not thus sacrifice the King's cannon, as if the frigate did not belong to the King also. However, the sea ebbed, and the ship sinking into the sand deeper than ever, made them relinquish that on which depended our last ray of hope.

On the approach of night, the fury of the winds redoubled, and the sea became very rough. The frigate then received some tremendous concussions, and the water rushed into the hold in the most terrific manner, but the pumps would not work. We had now no alternative but to abandon her for the frail boats, which any single wave would overwhelm. Frightful gulfs environed us; mountains of water raised their liquid summits in the distance. How were we to escape so many dangers? Whither could we go? What hospitable land would receive us on its shores? My thoughts, then reverted to our beloved country. I did not regret Paris, but I could have esteemed myself happy to have been yet in the marshes on the road to Rochefort. Then starting suddenly from my reverie, I exclaimed: "O terrible condition! that black and boundless sea resembles the eternal night which will ingulf us! All those who surround me seem yet tranquil; but that fatal calm will soon be succeeded by the most frightful torments. Fools, what had we to find in Senegal, to make us trust to the most perfidious of elements! Did France not afford every necessary for our happiness? Happy! yes, thrice happy, they who never set foot on a foreign soil! Great God! succour all these unfortunate beings; save our unhappy family!"

My father perceived my distress, but how could he console me? What words could calm my fears, and place me above the apprehension of those dangers to which we were exposed? How, in a word, could I assume a serene appearance, when friends, parents, and all that was most dear to me were, in all human probability, on the very verge of destruction? Alas! my fears were but too well founded. For I soon perceived that, although we were the only ladies, besides the Misses Schmaltz, who formed a part of the Governor's suit, they had the barbarity of intending our family to embark upon the raft, where were only soldiers, sailors, planters of Cape Verd, and some generous officers who had not the honour (if it could be accounted one) of being considered among the ignorant confidents of MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys. My father, indignant at a proceeding so indecorous, swore we would not embark upon the raft, and that, if we were not judged worthy of a place in one of the six boats, he would himself, his wife, and children, remain on board the wrecks of the frigate. The tone in which he spoke these words, was that of a man resolute to avenge any insult that might be offered to him. The governor of Senegal, doubtless fearing the world would one day reproach him for his inhumanity, decided we should have a place in one of the boats. This having in some measure quieted our fears concerning our unfortunate situation, I was desirous of taking some repose, but the uproar among the crew was so great I could not obtain it.

Towards midnight, a passenger came to inquire at my father if we were disposed to depart; he replied, we had been forbid to go yet. However, we were soon convinced that a great part of the crew and various passengers were secretly preparing to set off in the boats. A conduct so perfidious could not fail to alarm us, especially as we perceived among those so eager to embark unknown to us, several who had promised, but a little while before, not to go without us.

M. Schmaltz, to prevent that which was going on upon deck, instantly rose to endeavour to quiet their minds; but the soldiers had already assumed a threatening attitude, and, holding cheap the words of their commander, swore they would fire upon whosoever attempted to depart in a clandestine manner. The firmness of these brave men produced the desired effect, and all was restored to order. The governor returned to his cabin; and those who were desirous of departing furtively were confused and covered with shame. The governor, however, was ill at ease; and as he had heard very distinctly certain energetic words which had been addressed to him, he judged it proper to assemble a council. All the officers and passengers being collected, M. Schmaltz there solemnly swore before them not to abandon the raft, and a second time promised, that all the boats would tow it to the shore of the Desert, where they would all be formed into a caravan. I confess this conduct of the governor greatly satisfied every member of our family; for we never dreamed he would deceive us, nor act in a manner contrary to what he had promised.

CHAPTER IV.

THE HELM OF THE MEDUSA IS BROKEN BY THE WAVES—IT IS DETERMINED TO ABANDON THE WRECK OF THE FRIGATE—THE MILITARY ARE PUT UPON THE RAFT—THE GREATER PART OF THE OFFICERS GO INTO THE BOATS—THE PICARD FAMILY ARE ABANDONED UPON THE MEDUSA—PROCEEDINGS OF M. PICARD TO GET HIS FAMILY INTO A BOAT.

About three in the morning, some hours after the meeting of the council, a terrible noise was heard in the powder room; it was the helm which was broken. All who were sleeping were roused by it. On going on deck every one was more and more convinced that the frigate was lost beyond all recovery. Alas! the wreck was for our family the commencement of a horrible series of misfortunes. The two chief officers then decided with one accord, that all should embark at six in the morning, and abandon the ship to the mercy of the waves. After this decision, followed a scene the most whimsical, and at the same time the most melancholy that can be well conceived. To have a more distinct idea of it, let the reader transport himself in imagination to the midst of the liquid plains of the ocean; then let him picture to himself a multitude of all classes, of every age, tossed about at the mercy of the waves upon a dismasted vessel, foundered, and half submerged; let him not forget these are thinking beings with the certain prospect before them of having reached the goal of their existence.

Separated from the rest of the world by a boundless sea, and having no place of refuge but the wrecks of a grounded vessel, the multitude addressed at first their vows to heaven, and forgot, for a moment, all earthly concerns. Then, suddenly starting from their lethargy, they began to look after their wealth, the merchandise they had in small ventures, utterly regardless of the elements which threatened them. The miser, thinking of the gold contained in his coffers, hastening to put it in a place of safety, either by sewing it into the lining of his clothes, or by cutting out for it a place in the waistband of his trousers. The smuggler was tearing his hair at not being able to save a chest of contraband which he had secretly got on board, and with which he had hoped to have gained two or three hundred per cent. Another, selfish to excess, was throwing over board all his hidden money, and amusing himself by burning all his effects. A generous officer was opening his portmanteau, offering caps, stockings, and shirts, to any who would take them. These had scarcely gathered together their various effects, when they learned that they could not take any thing with them; those were searching the cabins and store-rooms to carry away every thing that was valuable. Ship-boys were discovering the delicate wines and fine liqueurs, which a wise foresight had placed in reserve. Soldiers and sailors were penetrating even into the spirit-room, broaching casks, staving others, and drinking till they fell exhausted. Soon the tumult of the inebriated made us forget the roaring of the sea which threatened to ingulf us. At last the uproar was at its height; the soldiers no longer listened to the voice of their captain. Some knit their brows and muttered oaths; but nothing could be done with those whom wine had rendered furious. Next, piercing cries mixed with doleful groans were heard—this was the signal of departure.

At six o'clock on the morning of the 5th, a great part of the military were embarked upon the raft, which was already covered with a large sheet of foam. The soldiers were expressly prohibited from taking their arms. A young officer of infantry, whose brain seemed to be powerfully affected, put his horse beside the barricadoes of the frigate, and then, armed with two pistols, threatened to fire upon any one who refused to go upon the raft. Forty men had scarcely descended when it sunk to the depth of about two feet. To facilitate the embarking of a greater number, they were obliged to throw over several barrels of provisions which had been placed upon it the day before. In this manner did this furious officer get about one hundred and fifty heaped upon that floating tomb; but he did not think of adding one more to the number by descending himself, as he ought to have done, but went peaceably away, and placed himself in one of the best boats. There should have been sixty sailors upon the raft, and there were but about ten. A list had been made out on the 4th, assigning each his proper place; but this wise precaution being disregarded, every one pursued the plan he deemed the best for his own preservation. The precipitation with which they forced one hundred and fifty unfortunate beings upon the raft was such, that they forgot to give them one morsel of biscuit. However, they threw towards them twenty-five pounds in a sack, whilst they were not far from the frigate; but it fell into the sea, and was with difficulty recovered.

During this disaster, the governor of Senegal, who was busied in the care of his own dear self, effeminately descended in an arm-chair into the barge, where were already various large chests, all kinds of provisions, his dearest friends, his daughter and his wife. Afterwards the captain's boat received twenty-seven persons, amongst whom were twenty-five sailors, good rowers. The shallop, commanded by M. Espiau, ensign of the ship, took forty-five passengers, and put off. The boat, called the Senegal, took twenty-five; the pinnace thirty-three; and the yawl, the smallest of all the boats, took only ten.

Almost all the officers, the passengers, the mariners and supernumeraries, were already embarked—all, but our weeping family, who still remained upon the boards of the frigate, till some charitable souls would kindly receive us into a boat. Surprised at this abandonment, I instantly felt myself roused, and, calling with all my might to the officers of the boats, besought them to take our unhappy family along with them. Soon after, the barge, in which were the governor of Senegal and all his family, approached the Medusa, as if still to take some passengers, for there were but few in it. I made a motion to descend, hoping that the Misses Schmaltz, who had, till that day, taken a great interest in our family, would allow us a place in their boat; but I was mistaken: those ladies, who had embarked in a mysterious incognito, had already forgotten us; and M. Lachaumareys, who was still on the frigate, positively told me they would not embark along with us. Nevertheless I ought to tell, what we learned afterwards, that that officer who commanded the pinnace had received orders to take us in, but, as he was already a great way from the frigate, we were certain he had abandoned us. My father however hailed him, but he persisted on his way to gain the open sea. A short while afterwards we perceived a small boat among the waves, which seemed desirous to approach the Medusa; it was the yawl. When it was sufficiently near, my father implored the sailors who were in it to take us on board, and to carry us to the pinnace, where our family ought to be placed. They refused. He then seized a firelock, which lay by chance upon deck, and swore he would kill every one of them if they refused to take us into the yawl, adding that it was the property of the king, and that he would have advantage from it as well as another. The sailors murmured, but durst not resist, and received all our family, which consisted of nine persons, viz. Four children, our stepmother, my cousin, my sister Caroline, my father, and myself. A small box, filled with valuable papers, which we wished to save, some clothes, two bottles of ratafia, which we had endeavoured to preserve amidst our misfortunes, were seized and thrown over board by the sailors of the yawl, who told us we would find in the pinnace every thing which we could wish for our voyage. We had then only the clothes which covered us, never thinking of dressing ourselves in two suits; but the loss which affected us most was that of several MSS. at which my father had been labouring for a long while. Our trunks, our linen, and various chests of merchandise of great value, in a word, every thing we possessed, was left in the Medusa. When we boarded the pinnace, the officer who commanded it began excusing himself for having set off without forewarning us, as he had been ordered, and said a thousand things in his justification. But without believing the half of his fine protestations, we felt very happy in having overtaken him; for it is most certain they had had no intention of encumbering themselves with our unfortunate family. I say encumber, for it is evident that four children, one of whom was yet at the breast, were very indifferent beings to people who were actuated by a selfishness without all parallel. When we were seated in the long-boat, my father dismissed the sailors with the yawl, telling them he would ever gratefully remember their services. They speedily departed, but little satisfied with the good action they had done. My father hearing their murmurs and the abuse they poured out against us, said, loud enough for all in the boat to hear: "We are not surprised sailors are destitute of shame, when their officers blush at being compelled to do a good action." The commandant of the boat feigned not to understand the reproaches conveyed in these words, and, to divert our minds from brooding over our wrongs, endeavoured to counterfeit the man of gallantry.

CHAPTER V.

DEPARTURE OF THE BOATS—THEY SEEM DESIROUS OF TOWING THE RAFT—GENEROUS CONDUCT OF A NAVAL OFFICER—THE ABANDONMENT OF THE RAFT—DESPAIR OF THE WRETCHES WHO ARE LEFT TO THE FURY OF THE WAVES—REPROACHES OF M. PICARD TO THE AUTHORS OF THE ABANDONING THE RAFT—DESCRIPTION OF THE SMALL FLEET WHICH THE BOATS FORMED—FRIGHTFUL FATE, AND DEPLORABLE END OF THE GREATER PART OF THE INDIVIDUALS ON THE RAFT.

All the boats were already far from the Medusa, when they were brought to, to form a chain in order to tow the raft. The barge, in which was the governor of Senegal, took the first tow, then all the other boats in succession joined themselves to that. M. Lachaumareys embarked, although there yet remained upon the Medusa more than sixty persons. Then the brave and generous M. Espiau, commander of the shallop, quitted the line of boats, and returned to the frigate, with the intention of saving all the wretches who had been abandoned. They all sprung into the shallop; but as it was very much overloaded, seventeen unfortunates preferred remaining on board, rather than expose themselves as well as their companions to certain death. But, alas! the greater part afterwards fell victims to their fears or their devotion. Fifty-two days after they were abandoned, no more than three of them were alive, and these looked more like skeletons than men. They told that their miserable companions had gone afloat upon planks and hen-coops, after having waited in vain forty-two days for the succour which had been promised them, and that all had perished.[4]

[4] Two, out of the three wretches who were saved from the wrecks of the Medusa, died a few days after their arrival at the colony; and the third, who pretended to know a great many particulars relative to the desertion of the frigate, was assassinated in his bed at Senegal, when he was just upon the eve of setting off for France. The authorities could not discover the murderer, who had taken good care to flee from his victim after having killed him.

The shallop, carrying with difficulty all those she had saved from the Medusa, slowly rejoined the line of boats which towed the raft. M. Espiau earnestly besought the officers of the other boats to take some of them along with them; but they refused, alleging to the generous officer that he ought to keep them in his own boat, as he had gone for them himself. M. Espiau, finding it impossible to keep them all without exposing them to the utmost peril, steered right for a boat which I will not name. Immediately a sailor sprung from the shallop into the sea, and endeavoured to reach it by swimming; and when he was about to enter it, an officer who possessed great influence, pushed him back, and, drawing his sabre, threatened to cut off his hands, if he again made the attempt. The poor wretch regained the shallop, which was very near the pinnace, where we were. Various friends of my father supplicated M. Lapérère, the officer of our boat, to receive him on board. My father had his arms already out to catch him, when M. Lapérère instantly let go the rope which attached us to the other boats, and tugged off with all his force. At the same instant every boat imitated our execrable example; and wishing to shun the approach of the shallop, which sought for assistance, stood off from the raft, abandoning in the midst of the ocean, and to the fury of the waves, the miserable mortals whom they had sworn to land on the shores of the Desert.

Scarcely had these cowards broken their oath, when we saw the French flag flying upon the raft. The confidence of these unfortunate persons was so great, that when they saw the first boat which had the tow removing from them, they all cried out, the rope is broken! the rope is broken! but when no attention was paid to their observation they instantly perceived the treachery of the wretches who had left them so basely. Then the cries of Vive le Roi arose from the raft, as if the poor fellows were calling to their father for assistance; or, as if they had been persuaded that, at that rallying word, the officers of the boats would return, and not abandon their countrymen. The officers repeated the cry of Vive le Roi, without a doubt, to insult them; but, more particularly, M. Lachaumareys, who, assuming a martial attitude, waved his hat in the air. Alas! what availed these false professions? Frenchmen, menaced with the greatest peril, were demanding assistance with the cries of Vive le Roi; yet none were found sufficiently generous, nor sufficiently French, to go to aid them. After a silence of some minutes, horrible cries were heard; the air resounded with the groans, the lamentations, the imprecations of these wretched beings, and the echo of the sea frequently repeated, Alas! how cruel you are to abandon us!!! The raft already appeared to be buried under the waves, and its unfortunate passengers immersed. The fatal machine was drifted by currents far behind the wreck of the Frigate; without cable, anchor, mast, sail, oars; in a word, without the smallest means of enabling them to save themselves. Each wave that struck it, made them stumble in heaps on one another. Their feet getting entangled among the cordage, and between the planks, bereaved them of the faculty of moving. Maddened by these misfortunes, suspended, and adrift upon a merciless ocean, they were soon tortured between the pieces of wood which formed the scaffold on which they floated. The bones of their feet and their legs were bruized and broken, every time the fury of the waves agitated the raft; their flesh covered with contusions and hideous wounds, dissolved, as it were, in the briny waves, whilst the roaring flood around them was coloured with their blood.

As the raft, when it was abandoned, was nearly two leagues from the frigate, it was impossible these unfortunate persons could return to it: they were soon after far out at sea. These victims still appeared above their floating tomb; and, stretching out their supplicating hands towards the boats which fled from them, seemed yet to invoke, for the last time, the names of the wretches who had deceived them. O horrid day! a day of shame and reproach! Alas! that the hearts of those who were so well acquainted with misfortune, should have been so inaccessible to pity!

After witnessing that most inhuman scene, and seeing they were insensible to the cries and lamentations of so many unhappy beings, I felt my heart bursting with sorrow. It seemed to me that the waves would overwhelm all these wretches, and I could not suppress my tears. My father, exasperated to excess, and bursting with rage at seeing so much cowardice and inhumanity among the officers of the boats, began to regret he had not accepted the place which had been assigned for us upon the fatal raft. "At least," said he, "we would have died with the brave, or we would have returned to the wreck of the Medusa; and not have had the disgrace of saving ourselves with cowards." Although this produced no effect upon the officers, it proved very fatal to us afterwards; for, on our arrival at Senegal, it was reported to the Governor, and very probably was the principal cause of all those evils and vexations which we endured in that colony.

Let us now turn our attention to the several situations of all those who were endeavouring to save themselves in the different boats, as well as to those left upon the wreck of the Medusa.

We have already seen, that the frigate was half sunk when it was deserted, presenting nothing but a hulk and wreck. Nevertheless, seventeen still remained upon it, and had food, which, although damaged, enabled them to support themselves for a considerable time; whilst the raft was abandoned to float at the mercy of the waves, upon the vast surface of the ocean. One hundred and fifty wretches were embarked upon it, sunk to the depth of at least three feet on its fore part, and on its poop immersed even to the middle. What victuals they had were soon consumed, or spoiled by the salt water; and perhaps some, as the waves hurried them along, became food for the monsters of the deep. Two only of all the boats which left the Medusa, and these with very few people in them, were provisioned with every necessary; these struck off with security and despatch. But the condition of those who were in the shallop was but little better than those upon the raft; their great number, their scarcity of provisions, their great distance from the shore, gave them the most melancholy anticipations of the future. Their worthy commander, M. Espiau, had no other hope but of reaching the shore as soon as possible. The other boats were less filled with people, but they were scarcely better provisioned; and, as by a species of fatality, the pinnace, in which were our family, was destitute of every thing. Our provisions consisted of a barrel of biscuit, and a tierce of water; and, to add to our misfortunes, the biscuit being soaked in the sea, it was almost impossible to swallow one morsel of it. Each passenger in our boat was obliged to sustain his wretched existence with a glass of water, which he could get only once a day. To tell how this happened, how this boat was so poorly supplied, whilst there were abundance left upon the Medusa, is far beyond my power. But it is at least certain, that the greater part of the officers commanding the boats, the Shallop, the pinnace, the Senegal boat, and the yawl, were persuaded, when they quitted the frigate, that they would not abandon the raft, but that all the expedition would sail together to the coast of Sahara; that when there, the boats would be again sent to the Medusa to take provisions, arms, and those who were left there; but it appears the chiefs had decided otherwise.

After abandoning the raft, although scattered, all the boats formed a little fleet, and followed the same route. All who were sincere hoped to arrive the same day at the coast of the Desert, and that every one would get on shore; but MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys gave orders to take the route for Senegal. This sudden change in the resolutions of the chiefs was like a thunderbolt to the officers commanding the boats. Having nothing on board but what was barely necessary to enable us to allay the cravings of hunger for one day, we were all sensibly affected. The other boats, which, like ourselves, hoped to have got on shore at the nearest point, were a little better provisioned than we were; they had at least a little wine, which supplied the place of other necessaries. We then demanded some from them, explaining our situation, but none would assist us, not even Captain Lachaumareys, who, drinking to a kept mistress, supported by two sailors, swore he had not one drop on board. We were next desirous of addressing the boat of the Governor of Senegal, where we were persuaded were plenty of provisions of every kind, such as oranges, biscuits, cakes, comfits, plumbs, and even the finest liqueurs; but my father opposed it, so well was he assured we would not obtain any thing.

We will now turn to the condition of those on the raft, when the boats left them to themselves.

If all the boats had continued dragging the raft forward, favoured as we were by the breeze from the sea, we would have been able to have conducted them to the shore in less than two days. But an inconceivable fatality caused the generous plan to be abandoned which had been formed.

When the raft had lost sight of the boats, a spirit of sedition began to manifest itself in furious cries. They then began to regard one another with ferocious looks, and to thirst for one another's flesh. Some one had already whispered of having recourse to that monstrous extremity, and of commencing with the fattest and youngest. A proposition so atrocious filled the brave Captain Dupont and his worthy lieutenant M. L'Heureux with horror; and that courage which had so often supported them in the field of glory, now forsook them.

Among the first who fell under the hatchets of the assassins, was a young woman who had been seen devouring the body of her husband. When her turn was come, she sought a little wine as a last favour, then rose, and without uttering one word, threw herself into the sea. Captain Dupont being proscribed for having refused to partake of the sacrilegious viands with which the monsters were feeding on, was saved as by a miracle from the hands of the butchers. Scarcely had they seized him to lead him to the slaughter, when a large pole, which served in place of a mast, fell upon his body; and believing that his legs were broken, they contented themselves by throwing him into the sea. The unfortunate captain plunged, disappeared, and they thought him already in another world.

Providence, however, revived the strength of the unfortunate warrior. He emerged under the beams of the raft, and clinging with all his might, holding his head above water, he remained between two enormous pieces of wood, whilst the rest of his body was hid in the sea. After more than two hours of suffering, Captain Dupont spoke in a low voice to his lieutenant, who by chance was seated near the place of his concealment. The brave L'Heureux, with eyes glistening with tears, believed he heard the voice, and saw the shade of his captain; and trembling, was about to quit the place of horror; but, O wonderful! he saw a head which seemed to draw its last sigh, he recognised it, he embraced it, alas! it was his dear friend! Dupont was instantly drawn from the water, and M. L'Heureux obtained for his unfortunate comrade again a place upon the raft. Those who had been most inveterate against him, touched at what Providence had done for him in so miraculous a manner, decided with one accord to allow him entire liberty upon the raft.

The sixty unfortunates who had escaped from the first massacre, were soon reduced to fifty, then to forty, and at last to twenty-eight. The least murmur, or the smallest complaint, at the moment of distributing the provisions, was a crime punished with immediate death. In consequence of such a regulation, it may easily be presumed the raft was soon lightened. In the meanwhile the wine diminished sensibly, and the half rations very much displeased a certain chief of the conspiracy. On purpose to avoid being reduced to that extremity, the executive power decided it was much wiser to drown thirteen people, and to get full rations, than that twenty-eight should have half rations. Merciful Heaven! what shame! After the last catastrophe, the chiefs of the conspiracy, fearing doubtless of being assassinated in their turn, threw all the arms into the sea, and swore an inviolable friendship with the heroes which the hatchet had spared. On the 17th of July, in the morning, Captain Parnajon, commandant of the Argus brig, still found fifteen men on the raft. They were immediately taken on board, and conducted to Senegal. Four of the fifteen are yet alive, viz. Captain Dupont, residing in the neighbourhood of Maintenon, Lieutenant L'Heureux, since Captain, at Senegal, Savigny, at Rochefort, and Corréard, I know not where.

CHAPTER VI.

THE CHIEFS OF THE EXPEDITION ORDER THE BOATS TO TAKE THE ROUTE FOR SENEGAL—OBJECTIONS OF SOME GENEROUS OFFICERS—THE SHORES OF THE DESERT OF SAHARA ARE DISCOVERED—IT IS DEFENDED—THE SAILORS OF THE PINNACE ARE DESIROUS OF LANDING—THE BOAT IN WHICH THE PICARD FAMILY IS LEAKS MUCH—UNHEARD-OF SUFFERINGS—TERRIBLE SITUATION OF THE FAMILY—FRIGHTFUL TEMPEST—DESPAIR OF THE PASSENGERS.

On the 5th of July, at ten in the morning, one hour after abandoning the raft, and three after quitting the Medusa, M. Lapérère, the officer of our boat, made the first distribution of provisions. Each passenger had a small glass of water and nearly the fourth of a biscuit. Each drank his allowance of water at one draught, but it was found impossible to swallow one morsel of our biscuit, it being so impregnated with sea-water. It happened, however, that some was found not quite so saturated. Of these we eat a small portion, and put back the remainder for a future day. Our voyage would have been sufficiently agreeable, if the beams of the sun had not been so fierce. On the evening we perceived the shores of the Desert; but as the two chiefs (MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys) wished to go right for Senegal, notwithstanding we were still one hundred leagues from it, we were not allowed to land. Several officers remonstrated, both on account of our want of provisions and the crowded condition of the boats, for undertaking so dangerous a voyage. Others urged with equal force, that it would be dishonouring the French name, if we were to neglect the unfortunate people on the raft, and insisted we should be set on shore, and whilst we waited there, three boats should return to look after the raft, and three to the wrecks of the frigate, to take up the seventeen who were left there, as well as a sufficient quantity of provisions to enable us to go to Senegal by the way of Barbary. But MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys, whose boats were sufficiently well provisioned, scouted the advice of their subalterns, and ordered them to cast anchor till the following morning. They were obliged to obey these orders, and to relinquish their designs. During the night, a certain passenger, who was doubtless no doctor, and who believed in ghosts and witches, was suddenly frightened by the appearance of flames, which he thought he saw in the waters of the sea, a little way from where our boat was anchored. My father, and some others, who were aware that the sea is sometimes phosphorated, confirmed the poor credulous man in his belief, and added several circumstances which fairly turned his brain. They persuaded him the Arabic sorcerers had fired the sea to prevent us from travelling along their deserts.

On the morning of the 6th of July, at five o'clock, all the boats were under way on the route to Senegal. The boats of MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys took the lead along the coast, and all the expedition followed. About eight, several sailors in our boat, with threats, demanded to be set on shore; but M. Lapérère, not acceding to their request, the whole were about to revolt and seize the command; but the firmness of this officer quelled the mutineers. In a spring which he made to seize a firelock which a sailor persisted in keeping in his possession, he almost tumbled into the sea. My father fortunately was near him, and held him by his clothes, but he had instantly to quit him, for fear of losing his hat, which the waves were floating away. A short while after this slight accident, the shallop, which we had lost sight of since the morning, appeared desirous of rejoining us. We plied all hands to avoid her, for we were afraid of one another, and thought that that boat, encumbered with so many people, wished to board us to oblige us to take some of its passengers, as M. Espiau would not suffer them to be abandoned like those upon the raft. That officer hailed us at a distance, offering to take our family on board, adding, he was anxious to take about sixty people to the Desert. The officer of our boat, thinking that this was a pretence, replied, we preferred suffering where we were. It even appeared to us that M. Espiau had hid some of his people under the benches of the shallop. But, alas! in the end we deeply deplored being so suspicious, and of having so outraged the devotion of the most generous officer of the Medusa.

Our boat began to leak considerably, but we prevented it as well as we could, by stuffing the largest holes with oakum, which an old sailor had had the precaution to take before quitting the frigate. At noon the heat became so strong—so intolerable, that several of us believed we had reached our last moments. The hot winds of the Desert even reached us; and the fine sand with which they were loaded, had completely obscured the clearness of the atmosphere. The sun presented a reddish disk; the whole surface of the ocean became nebulous, and the air which we breathed, depositing a fine sand, an impalpable powder, penetrated to our lungs, already parched with a burning thirst. In this state of torment we remained till four in the afternoon, when a breeze from the north-west brought us some relief. Notwithstanding the privations we felt, and especially the burning thirst which had become intolerable, the cool air which we now began to breath, made us in part forget our sufferings. The heavens began again to resume the usual serenity of those latitudes, and we hoped to have passed a good night. A second distribution of provisions was made; each received a small glass of water, and about the eighth part of a biscuit. Notwithstanding our meagre fare, every one seemed content, in the persuasion we would reach Senegal by the morrow. But how vain were all our hopes, and what sufferings had we yet to endure!

At half past seven, the sky was covered with stormy clouds. The serenity we had admired a little while before, entirely disappeared, and gave place to the most gloomy obscurity. The surface of the ocean presented all the signs of a coming tempest. The horizon on the side of the Desert had the appearance of a long hideous chain of mountains piled on one another, the summits of which seemed to vomit fire and smoke. Bluish clouds, streaked with a dark copper colour, detached themselves from that shapeless heap, and came and joined with those which floated over our heads. In less than half an hour the ocean seemed confounded with the terrible sky which canopied us. The stars were hid. Suddenly a frightful noise was heard from the west, and all the waves of the sea rushed to founder our frail bark. A fearful silence succeeded to the general consternation. Every tongue was mute; and none durst communicate to his neighbour the horror with which his mind was impressed. At intervals the cries of the children rent our hearts. At that instant a weeping and agonized mother bared her breast to her dying child, but it yielded nothing to appease the thirst of the little innocent who pressed it in vain. O night of horrors! what pen is capable to paint thy terrible picture! How describe the agonizing fears of a father and mother, at the sight of their children tossed about and expiring of hunger in a small boat, which the winds and waves threatened to ingulf at every instant! Having full before our eyes the prospect of inevitable death, we gave ourselves up to our unfortunate condition, and addressed our prayers to Heaven. The winds growled with the utmost fury; the tempestuous waves arose exasperated. In their terrific encounter a mountain of water was precipitated into our boat, carrying away one of the sails, and the greater part of the effects which the sailors had saved from the Medusa. Our bark was nearly sunk; the females and the children lay rolling in its bottom, drinking the waters of bitterness; and their cries, mixed with the roaring of the waves and the furious north wind, increased the horrors of the scene. My unfortunate father then experienced the most excruciating agony of mind. The idea of the loss which the shipwreck had occasioned to him, and the danger which still menaced all he held dearest in the world, plunged him into a deep swoon. The tenderness of his wife and children recovered him; but alas! his recovery was to still more bitterly to deplore the wretched situation of his family. He clasped us to his bosom; he bathed us with his tears, and seemed as if he was regarding us with his last looks of love.

Every soul in the boat were seized with the same perturbation, but it manifested itself in different ways. One part of the sailors remained motionless, in a bewildered state; the other cheered and encouraged one another; the children, locked in the arms of their parents, wept incessantly. Some demanded drink, vomiting the salt water which choked them; others, in short, embraced as for the last time, intertwining their arms, and vowing to die together.

In the meanwhile the sea became rougher and rougher. The whole surface of the ocean seemed a vast plain furrowed with huge blackish waves fringed with white foam. The thunder growled around us, and the lightning discovered to our eyes all that our imagination could conceive most horrible. Our boat, beset on all sides by the winds, and at every instant tossed on the summit of mountains of water, was very nearly sunk in spite of our every effort in baling it, when we discovered a large hole in its poop. It was instantly stuffed with every thing we could find;—old clothes, sleeves of shirts, shreds of coats, shawls, useless bonnets, every thing was employed, and secured us as far as it was possible. During the space of six hours, we rowed suspended alternately between hope and fear, between life and death. At last towards the middle of the night, Heaven, which had seen our resignation, commanded the floods to be still. Instantly the sea became less rough, the veil which covered the sky became less obscure, the stars again shone out, and the tempest seemed to withdraw. A general exclamation of joy and thankfulness issued at one instant from every mouth. The winds calmed, and each of us sought a little sleep, whilst our good and generous pilot steered our boat on a still very stormy sea.

The day at last, the day so desired, entirely restored the calm; but it brought no other consolation. During the night, the currents, the waves, and the winds had taken us so far out to sea, that, on the dawning of the 7th of July, we saw nothing but sky and water, without knowing whether to direct our course; for our compass had been broken during the tempest. In this hopeless condition, we continued to steer sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, until the sun arose, and at last showed us the east.

CHAPTER VII.

AFTER THE FRIGHTFUL TEMPEST, THE BOAT, IN WHICH ARE THE PICARD FAMILY, IS STILL DESIROUS OF TAKING THE ROUTE TO SENEGAL—CRUEL ALTERNATIVE TO WHICH THE PASSENGERS ARE DRIVEN—IT IS AT LAST DECIDED TO GAIN THE COAST—DESCRIPTION OF THE LANDING—THE TRANSPORTS OF THE SHIPWRECKED.

On the morning of the 7th of July, we again saw the shores of the Desert, notwithstanding we were yet a great distance from it. The sailors renewed their murmurings, wishing to get on shore, with the hope of being able to get some wholesome plants, and some more palatable water than that of the sea; but as we were afraid of the Moors, their request was opposed. However, M. Lapérère proposed to take them as near as he could to the first breakers on the coast; and when there, those who wished to go on shore should throw themselves into the sea, and swim to land. Eleven accepted the proposal; but when we had reached the first waves, none had the courage to brave the mountains of water which rolled between them and the beach. Our sailors then betook themselves to their benches and oars, and promised to be more quiet for the future. A short while after, a third distribution was made since our departure from the Medusa; and nothing more remained than four pints of water, and one half dozen biscuits. What steps were we to take in this cruel situation? We were desirous of going on shore, but we had such dangers to encounter. However, we soon came to a decision, when we saw a caravan of Moors on the coast. We then stood a little out to sea. According to the calculation of our commanding officer, we would arrive at Senegal on the morrow. Deceived by that false account, we preferred suffering one day more, rather than to be taken by the Moors of the Desert, or perish among the breakers. We had now no more than a small half glass of water, and the seventh of a biscuit. Exposed as we were to the heat of the sun, which darted its rays perpendicularly on our heads, that ration, though small, would have been a great relief to us; but the distribution was delayed to the morrow. We were then obliged to drink the bitter sea-water, ill as it was calculated to quench our thirst. Must I tell it! thirst had so withered the lungs of our sailors, that they drank water salter than that of the sea! Our numbers diminished daily, and nothing but the hope of arriving at the colony on the following day sustained our frail existence. My young brothers and sisters wept incessantly for water. The little Laura, aged six years, lay dying at the feet of her mother. Her mournful cries so moved the soul of my unfortunate father, that he was on the eve of opening a vein to quench the thirst which consumed his child; but a wise person opposed his design, observing that all the blood in his body would not prolong the life of his infant one moment.

The freshness of the night-wind procured us some respite. We anchored pretty near to the shore, and, though dying of famine, each got a tranquil sleep. On the morning of the 8th of July at break of day, we took the route for Senegal. A short while after the wind fell, and we had a dead calm. We endeavoured to row, but our strength was exhausted. A fourth and last distribution was made, and, in the twinkling of an eye, our last resources were consumed. We were forty-two people who had to feed upon six biscuits and about four pints of water, with no hope of a farther supply. Then came the moment for deciding whether we were to perish among the breakers, which defended the approach to the shores of the Desert, or to die of famine in continuing our route. The majority preferred the last species of misery. We continued our progress along the shore, painfully pulling our oars. Upon the beach were distinguished several downs of white sand, and some small trees. We were thus creeping along the coast, observing a mournful silence, when a sailor suddenly exclaimed, Behold the Moors! We did, in fact, see various individuals upon the rising ground, walking at a quick pace, and whom we took to be the Arabs of the Desert. As we were very near the shore, we stood farther out to sea, fearing that these pretended Moors, or Arabs, would throw themselves into the sea, swim out, and take us. Some hours after, we observed several people upon an eminence, who seemed to make signals to us. We examined them attentively, and soon recognised them to be our companions in misfortune. We replied to them by attaching a white handkerchief to the top of our mast. Then we resolved to land, at the risk of perishing among the breakers, which were very strong towards the shore, although the sea was calm. On approaching the beach, we went towards the right, where the waves seemed less agitated, and endeavoured to reach it, with the hope of being able more easily to land. Scarcely had we directed our course to that point, when we perceived a great number of people standing near to a little wood surrounding the sand-hills. We recognised them to be the passengers of that boat, which, like ourselves, were deprived of provisions.

Meanwhile we approached the shore, and already the foaming surge filled us with terror. Each wave that came from the open sea, each billow that swept beneath our boat, made us bound into the air; so we were sometimes thrown from the poop to the prow, and from the prow to the poop. Then, if our pilot had missed the sea, we would have been sunk; the waves would have thrown us aground, and we would have been buried among the breakers. The helm of the boat was again given to the old pilot, who had already so happily steered us through the dangers of the storm. He instantly threw into the sea the mast, the sails, and every thing that could impede our proceedings. When we came to the first landing point, several of our shipwrecked companions, who had reached the shore, ran and hid themselves behind the hills, not to see us perish; others made signs not to approach at that place; some covered their eyes with their hands; others, at last despising the danger, precipitated themselves into the waves to receive us in their arms. We then saw a spectacle that made us shudder. We had already doubled two ranges of breakers; but those which we had still to cross raised their foaming waves to a prodigious height, then sunk with a hollow and monstrous sound, sweeping along a long line of the coast. Our boat sometimes greatly elevated, and sometimes ingulfed between the waves, seemed, at the moment, of utter ruin. Bruised, battered, tossed about on all hands, it turned of itself, and refused to obey the kind hand which directed it. At that instant a huge wave rushed from the open sea, and dashed against the poop; the boat plunged, disappeared, and we were all among the waves. Our sailors, whose strength had returned at the presence of danger, redoubled their efforts, uttering mournful sounds. Our bark groaned, the oars were broken; it was thought aground, but it was stranded; it was upon its side. The last sea rushed upon us with the impetuosity of a torrent. We were up to the neck in water; the bitter sea-froth choaked us. The grapnel was thrown out. The sailors threw themselves into the sea; they took the children in their arms; returned, and took us upon their shoulders; and I found myself seated upon the sand on the shore, by the side of my step-mother, my brothers and sisters, almost dead. Every one was upon the beach except my father and some sailors; but that good man arrived at last, to mingle his tears with those of his family and friends.

Instantly our hearts joined in addressing our prayers and praises to God. I raised my hands to heaven, and remained some time immoveable upon the beach. Every one also hastened to testify his gratitude to our old pilot, who, next to God, justly merited the title of our preserver. M. Dumège, a naval surgeon, gave him an elegant gold watch, the only thing he had saved from the Medusa.

Let the reader now recollect all the perils to which we had been exposed in escaping from the wreck of the frigate to the shores of the Desert—all that we had suffered during our four days' voyage—and he will perhaps have a just notion of the various sensations we felt on getting on shore on that strange and savage land. Doubtless the joy we experienced at having escaped, as by a miracle, the fury of the floods, was very great; but how much was it lessened by the feelings of our horrible situation! Without water, without provisions, and the majority of us nearly naked, was it to be wondered at that we should be seized with terror on thinking of the obstacles which we had to surmount, the fatigues, the privations, the pains and the sufferings we had to endure, with the dangers we had to encounter in the immense and frightful Desert we had to traverse before we could arrive at our destination? Almighty Providence! it was in Thee alone I put my trust.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SHIPWRECKED PARTY FORM THEMSELVES INTO A CARAVAN TO GO BY LAND TO SENEGAL—THEY FIND WATER IN THE DESERT—SOME PEOPLE OF THE CARAVAN PROPOSE TO ABANDON THE PICARD FAMILY—GENEROUS CONDUCT OF AN OLD OFFICER OF INFANTRY—DISCOVERY OF AN OASIS OF WILD PURSLAIN—FIRST REPAST OF THE CARAVAN IN THE DESERT—THEY FALL IN WITH A SMALL CAMP OF ARABS—M. PICARD PURCHASES TWO KIDS—THE MOORS OFFER THEIR SERVICES TO THEM—ARRIVAL AT LAST AT THE GREAT CAMP OF THE MOORS—M. PICARD IS RECOGNISED BY AN ARAB—GENEROUS PROCEEDING OF THAT ARAB—SUDDEN DEPARTURE OF THE CARAVAN—THEY HIRE ASSES.

After we had a little recovered from the fainting and fatigue of our getting on shore, our fellow-sufferers told us they had landed in the forenoon, and had cleared the breakers by the strength of their oars and sails; but they had not all been so lucky as we were. One unfortunate person, too desirous of getting quickly on shore, had his legs broken under the Shallop, and was taken and laid on the beach, and left to the care of Providence. M. Espiau, commander of the shallop, reproached us for having doubted him when he wished to board us to take our family along with him. It was most true he had landed sixty-three people that day. A short while after our refusal, he took the passengers of the yawl, who would infallibly have perished in the stormy night of the 6th and 7th. The boat named the Senegal, commanded by M. Maudet, had made the shore at the same time with M. Espiau. The boats of MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys were the only ones which continued the route for Senegal, whilst nine-tenths of the Frenchmen intrusted to these gentlemen were butchering each other on the raft, or dying of hunger on the burning sands of Sahara.

About seven in the morning, a caravan was formed to penetrate into the interior, for the purpose of finding some fresh water. We did accordingly find some at a little distance from the sea, by digging among the sand. Every one instantly flocked round the little wells, which furnished enough to quench our thirst. This brackish water was found to be delicious, although it had a sulphurous taste: its colour was that of whey. As all our clothes were wet and in tatters, and as we had nothing to change them, some generous officers offered theirs. My step-mother, my cousin, and my sister, were dressed in them; for myself, I preferred keeping my own. We remained nearly an hour beside our beneficent fountain then took the route for Senegal; that is, a southerly direction, for we did not know exactly where that country lay. It was agreed that the females and children should walk before the caravan, that they might not be left behind. The sailors voluntarily carried the youngest on their shoulders, and every one took the route along the coast. Notwithstanding it was nearly seven o'clock, the sand was quite burning, and we suffered severely, walking without shoes, having lost them whilst landing. As soon as we arrived on the shore, we went to walk on the wet sand, to cool us a little. Thus we travelled during all the night, without encountering any thing but shells, which wounded our feet.

On the morning of the 9th, we saw an antelope on the top of a little hill, which instantly disappeared, before we had time to shoot it. The Desert seemed to our view one immense plain of sand, on which was seen not one blade of verdure. However, we still found water by digging in the sand. In the forenoon, two officers of marine complained that our family incommoded the progress of the caravan. It is true, the females and the children could not walk so quickly as the men. We walked as fast as it was possible for us, nevertheless, we often fell behind, which obliged them to halt till we came up. These officers, joined with other individuals, considered among themselves whether they would wait for us, or abandon us in the Desert. I will be bold to say, however, that but few were of the latter opinion. My father being informed of what was plotting against us, stepped up to the chiefs of the conspiracy, and reproached them in the bitterest terms for their selfishness and brutality. The dispute waxed hot. Those who were desirous of leaving us drew their swords, and my father put his hand upon a poignard, with which he had provided himself on quitting the frigate. At this scene, we threw ourselves in between them, conjuring him rather to remain in the Desert with his family, than seek the assistance of those who were, perhaps, less humane than the Moors themselves. Several people took our part, particularly M. Bégnère, captain of infantry, who quieted the dispute by saying to his soldiers. "My friends, you are Frenchmen, and I have the honour of being your commander; let us never abandon an unfortunate family in the Desert, so long as we are able to be of use to them." This brief, but energetic speech, caused those to blush who wished to leave us. All then joined with the old captain, saying they would not leave us on condition we would walk quicker. M. Bégnère and his soldiers replied, they did not wish to impose conditions on those to whom they were desirous of doing a favour; and the unfortunate family of Picard were again on the road with the whole caravan. Some time after this dispute, M. Rogéry, member of the Philanthropic Society of Cape Verd, secretly left the caravan, striking into the middle of the Desert, without knowing very well what he sought. He wished perhaps to explore the ancient country of the Numidians and Getulians, and to give himself a slave to the great Emperor of Morocco. What would it avail to acquire such celebrity? That intrepid traveller had not time to find that after which he searched; for a few days after he was captured by the Moors, and taken to Senegal, where the governor paid his ransom.

About noon hunger was felt so powerfully among us, that it was agreed upon to go to the small hills of sand which were near the coast, to see if any herbs could be found fit for eating; but we only got poisonous plants, among which were various kinds of euphorbium. Convolvuluses of a bright green carpeted the downs; but on tasting their leaves we found them as bitter as gall. The caravan rested in this place, whilst several officers went farther into the interior. They came back in about an hour, loaded with wild purslain, which they distributed to each of us. Every one instantly devoured his bunch of herbage, without leaving the smallest branch; but as our hunger was far from being satisfied with this small allowance, the soldiers and sailors betook themselves to look for more. They soon brought back a sufficient quantity, which was equally distributed, and devoured upon the spot, so delicious had hunger made that food to us. For myself, I declare I never eat any thing with so much appetite in all my life. Water was also found in this place, but it was of an abominable taste. After this truly frugal repast, we continued our route. The heat was insupportable in the last degree. The sands on which we trode were burning, nevertheless several of us walked on these scorching coals without shoes; and the females had nothing but their hair for a cap. When we reached the sea-shore, we all ran and lay down among the waves. After remaining there some time, we took our route along the wet beach. On our journey we met with several large crabs, which were of considerable service to us. Every now and then we endeavoured to slake our thirst by sucking their crooked claws. About nine at night we halted between two pretty high sand hills. After a short talk concerning our misfortunes, all seemed desirous of passing the night in this place, notwithstanding we heard on every side the roaring of leopards. We deliberated on the means of securing ourselves, but sleep soon put an end to our fears. Scarcely had we slumbered a few hours when a horrible roaring of wild beasts awoke us, and made us stand on our defence. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and in spite of my fears and the horrible aspect of the place, nature never appeared so sublime to me before. Instantly something was announced that resembled a lion. This information was listened to with the greatest emotion. Every one being desirous of verifying the truth, fixed upon something he thought to be the object; one believed he saw the long teeth of the king of the forest; another was convinced his mouth was already open to devour us; several, armed with muskets, aimed at the animal, and advancing a few steps, discovered the pretended lion to be nothing more than a shrub fluctuating in the breeze. However, the howlings of ferocious beasts had so frightened us, being yet heard at intervals, that we again sought the sea-shore, on purpose to continue our route towards the south.

Our situation had been thus perilous during the night; nevertheless at break of day we had the satisfaction of finding none amissing. About sunrise we held a little to the east to get farther into the interior to find fresh water, and lost much time in a vain search. The country which we now traversed was a little less arid than that which we had passed the preceding day. The hills, the valleys, and a vast plain of sand, were strewed with Mimosa or sensitive plants, presenting to our sight a scene we had never before seen in the Desert. The country is bounded as it were by a chain of mountains, or high downs of sand, in the direction of north and south, without the slightest trace of cultivation.

Towards ten in the morning some of our companions were desirous of making observations in the interior, and they did not go in vain. They instantly returned, and told us they had seen two Arab tents upon a slight rising ground. We instantly directed our steps thither. We had to pass great downs of sand very slippery, and arrived in a large plain, streaked here and there with verdure; but the turf was so hard and piercing, we could scarcely walk over it without wounding our feet. Our presence in these frightful solitudes put to flight three or four Moorish shepherds, who herded a small flock of sheep and goats in an oasis.[5] At last we arrived at the tents after which we were searching, and found in them three Mooresses and two little children, who did not seem in the least frightened by our visit. A negro servant, belonging to an officer of marine, interpreted between us; and the good women, who, when they had heard of our misfortunes, offered us millet and water for payment. We bought a little of that grain at the rate of thirty pence a handful; the water was got for three francs a glass; it was very good, and none grudged the money it cost. As a glass of water, with a handful of millet, was but a poor dinner for famished people, my father bought two kids, which they would not give him under twenty piasters. We immediately killed them, and our Mooresses boiled them in a large kettle. Whilst our repast was preparing, my father, who could not afford the whole of the expense, got others to contribute to it; but an old officer of marine, who was to have been captain of the port of Senegal, was the only person who refused, notwithstanding he had about him nearly three thousand francs, which he boasted of in the end. Several soldiers and sailors had seen him count it in round pieces of gold, on coming ashore on the Desert, and reproached him for his sordid avarice; but he seemed insensible to their reproaches, nor eat the less of his portion of kid with his companions in misfortune.

[5] Oasis, a fertile tract of land situated among sand. T.

When about to resume our journey, we saw several Moors approaching to us armed with lances. Our people instantly seized their arms, and put themselves in readiness to defend us in case of an attack. Two officers, followed by several soldiers and sailors, with our interpreter, advanced to discover their intentions. They instantly returned with the Moors, who said, that far from wishing to do us harm, they had come to offer us their assistance, and to conduct us to Senegal. This offer being accepted of with gratitude by all of us, the Moors, of whom we had been so afraid, became our protectors and friends, verifying the old proverb, there are good people every where! As the camp of the Moors was at some considerable distance from where we were, we set off altogether to reach it before night. After having walked about two leagues through the burning sands, we found ourselves again upon the shore. Towards night, our conductors made us strike again into the interior, saying we were very near their camp, which is called in their language Berkelet. But the short distance of the Moors was found very long by the females and the children, on account of the downs of sand which we had to ascend and descend every instant, also of prickly shrubs over which we were frequently obliged to walk. Those who were barefooted, felt most severely at this time the want of their shoes. I myself lost among the bushes various shreds of my dress, and my feet and legs were all streaming with blood. At length, after two long hours of walking and suffering, we arrived at the camp of that tribe to which belonged our Arab conductors. We had scarcely got into the camp, when the dogs, the children, and the Moorish women, began to annoy us. Some of them threw sand in our eyes, others amused themselves by snatching at our hair, on pretence of wishing to examine it. This pinched us, that spit upon us; the dogs bit our legs, whilst the old harpies cut the buttons from the officers coats, or endeavoured to take away the lace. Our conductors, however, had pity on us, and chased away the dogs and the curious crowd, who had already made us suffer as much as the thorns which had torn our feet. The chiefs of the camp, our guides, and some good women, at last set about getting us some supper. Water in abundance was given us without payment, and they sold us fish dried in the sun, and some bowlfuls of sour milk, all at a reasonable price.

We found a Moor in the camp who had previously known my father at Senegal, and who spoke a little French. As soon as he recognised him, he cried, "Tiens toi, Picard! ni a pas connaître moi Amet?" Hark ye, Picard, know you not Amet? We were all struck with astonishment at these French words coming from the mouth of a Moor. My father recollected having employed long ago a young goldsmith at Senegal, and discovering the Moor Amet to be the same person, shook him by the hand. After that good fellow had been made acquainted with our shipwreck, and to what extremities our unfortunate family had been reduced, he could not refrain from tears; and this perhaps was the first time a Musulman had ever wept over the misfortunes of a Christian. Amet was not satisfied with deploring our hard fate; he was desirous of proving that he was generous and humane, and instantly distributed among us a large quantity of milk and water free of any charge. He also raised for our family a large tent of the skins of camels, cattle and sheep, because his religion would not allow him to lodge with Christians under the same roof. The place appeared very dark, and the obscurity made us uneasy. Amet and our conductors lighted a large fire to quiet us; and at last, bidding us good night, and retiring to his tent, said, "Sleep in peace; the God of the Christians is also the God of the Musulmen."

We had resolved to quit this truly hospitable place early in the morning; but during the night, some people who had probably too much money, imagined the Moors had taken us to their camp to plunder us. They communicated their fears to others, and pretending that the Moors, who walked up and down among their flocks, and cried from time to time, to keep away the ferocious beasts, had already given the signal for pursuing and murdering us. Instantly a general panic seized all our people, and they wished to set off forthwith. My father, although he well knew the perfidy of the inhabitants of the Desert, endeavoured to assure them we had nothing to fear, because the Arabs were too frightened for the people of Senegal, who would not fail to avenge us if we were insulted; but nothing could quiet their apprehensions, and we had to take the route during the middle of the night. The Moors being soon acquainted with our fears, made us all kinds of protestations; and seeing we persisted in quitting the camp, offered us asses to carry us as far as the Senegal. These beasts of burden were hired at the rate of 12 francs a day, for each head, and we took our departure under the guidance of those Moors who had before conducted us to the camp. Amet's wife being unwell, he could not accompany us, but recommended us strongly to our guides. My father was able to hire only two asses for the whole of our family; and as it was numerous, my sister Caroline, my cousin, and myself, were obliged to crawl along, whilst my unfortunate father followed in the suite of the caravan, which in truth went much quicker than we did.

A short distance from the camp, the brave and compassionate Captain Bégnère, seeing we still walked, obliged us to accept of the ass he had hired for himself, saying he would not ride when young ladies, exhausted with fatigue, followed on foot. The King afterwards honourably recompensed this worthy officer, who ceased not to regard our unfortunate family with a care and attention I will never forget.

During the remainder of the night, we travelled in a manner sufficiently agreeable, mounting alternately the ass of Captain Bégnère.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CARAVAN REGAINS THE SHORE—A SAIL IS DISCOVERED—IT BRINGS ASSISTANCE TO THE CARAVAN—GREAT GENEROSITY OF AN ENGLISHMAN—CONTINUATION OF THEIR JOURNEY—EXTRAORDINARY HEAT—THEY KILL A BULLOCK—REPAST OF THE CARAVAN—AT LAST THEY DISCOVER THE RIVER SENEGAL—JOY OF THE UNFORTUNATE—M. PICARD RECEIVES ASSISTANCE FROM SOME OLD FRIENDS AT SENEGAL—HOSPITALITY OF THE INHABITANTS OF THE ISLAND OF ST LOUIS TOWARDS EVERY PERSON OF THE CARAVAN.

At five in the morning of the 11th of July we regained the sea-shore. Our asses, fatigued with the long journey among the sands, ran instantly and lay down among the breakers, in spite of our utmost exertions to prevent them. This caused several of us to take a bath we wished not: I was myself held under my ass in the water, and had great difficulty in saving one of my young brothers who was floating away. But, in the end, as this incident had no unfortunate issue, we laughed, and continued our route, some on foot, and some on the capricious asses. Towards ten o'clock, perceiving a ship out at sea, we attached a white handkerchief to the muzzle of a gun, waving it in the air, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing it was noticed. The ship having approached sufficiently near the coast, the Moors who were with us threw themselves into the sea, and swam to it. It must be said we had very wrongfully supposed that these people had had a design against us, for their devotion could not appear greater than when five of them darted through the waves to endeavour to communicate between us and the ship; notwithstanding, it was still a good quarter of a league distant from where we stood on the beach. In about half an hour we saw these good Moors returning, making float before them three small barrels. Arrived on shore, one of them gave a letter to M. Espiau from M. Parnajon. This gentleman was the captain of the Argus brig, sent to seek after the raft, and to give us provisions. This letter announced a small barrel of biscuit, a tierce of wine, a half tierce of brandy, and a Dutch cheese. O fortunate event! We were very desirous of testifying our gratitude to the generous commander of the brig, but he instantly set out and left us. We staved the barrels which held our small stock of provisions, and made a distribution. Each of us had a biscuit, about a glass of wine, a half glass of brandy, and a small morsel of cheese. Each drank his allowance of wine at one gulp; the brandy was not even despised by the ladies. I however preferred quantity to quality, and exchanged my ration of brandy for that of wine. To describe our joy, whilst taking this repast, is impossible. Exposed to the fierce rays of a vertical sun; exhausted by a long train of suffering; deprived for a long while the use of any kind of spirituous liquors, when our portions of water, wine, and brandy, mingled in our stomachs we became like insane people. Life, which had lately been a great burden, now became precious to us. Foreheads, lowering and sulky, began to unwrinkle; enemies became most brotherly; the avaricious endeavoured to forget their selfishness and cupidity; the children smiled for the first time since our shipwreck; in a word, every one seemed to be born again from a condition melancholy and dejected. I even believe the sailors sung the praises of their mistresses.

This journey was the most fortunate for us. Some short while after our delicious meal, we saw several Moors approaching, who brought milk and butter, so that we had refreshments in abundance. It is true we paid a little dear for them; the glass of milk cost not less than three francs. After reposing about three hours, our caravan proceeded on its route.

About six in the evening, my father finding himself extremely fatigued, wished to rest himself. We allowed the caravan to move on, whilst my step-mother and myself remained near him, and the rest of the family followed with their asses. We all three soon fell asleep. When we awoke, we were astonished at not seeing our companions. The sun was sinking in the west. We saw several Moors approaching us, mounted on camels; and my father reproached himself for having slept so long. Their appearance gave us great uneasiness, and we wished much to escape from them, but my step-mother and myself fell quite exhausted. The Moors, with long beards, having come quite close to us, one of them alighted and addressed us in the following words. "Be comforted, ladies; under the costume of an Arab, you see an Englishman who is desirous of serving you. Having heard at Senegal that Frenchmen were thrown ashore on these deserts, I thought my presence might be of some service to them, as I was acquainted with several of the princes of this arid country." These noble words from the mouth of a man we had at first taken to be a Moor, instantly quieted our fears. Recovering from our fright, we rose and expressed to the philanthropic Englishman the gratitude we felt. Mr Carnet,[6] the name of the generous Briton, told us that our caravan, which he had met, waited for us at about the distance of two leagues. He then gave us some biscuit, which we eat; and we then set off together to join our companions. Mr Carnet wished us to mount his camels, but my stepmother and myself, being unable to persuade ourselves we could sit securely on their hairy haunches, continued to walk on the moist sand, whilst my father, Mr Carnet, and the Moors who accompanied him, proceeded on the camels. We soon reached a little river, called in the country Marigot des Maringoins. We wished to drink of it, but found it as salt as the sea. Mr Carnet desired us to have patience, and we should find some at the place where our caravan waited. We forded that river knee-deep. At last, having walked about an hour, we rejoined our companions, who had found several wells of fresh water. It was resolved to pass the night in this place, which seemed less arid than any we saw near us. The soldiers, being requested to go and seek wood to light a fire, for the purpose of frightening the ferocious beasts which were heard roaring around us, refused; but Mr Carnet assured us, that the Moors who were with him knew well how to keep all such intruders from our camp. In truth, during the whole of the night, these good Arabs promenaded round our caravan, uttering cries at intervals like those we had heard in the camp of the generous Amet.

[6] In the work of MM. Corréard and Savigny, this gentleman is made mention of in substance as follows. "On the evening of the 11th, they met with more of the natives, and an Irishman, captain of a merchantman, who, of his own accord, had left St Louis with the intention of assisting the sufferers. He spoke the language of the country, and was dressed in the Moorish costume. We are sorry we cannot recollect the name of this foreign officer, which we would have a real pleasure in publishing; but, since time has effaced it from our memories, we will at least publish his zeal and his noble efforts, titles well worthy the gratitude of every feeling heart." pp. 164-165. Paris, 1818, 8vo.—Trans.

We passed a very good night, and at four in the morning continued our route along the shore. Mr Carnet left us to endeavour to procure some provisions. Till then our asses had been quite docile; but, annoyed with their riders so long upon their backs, they refused to go forward. A fit took possession of them, and all at the same instant threw their riders on the ground, or among the bushes. The Moors, however, who accompanied us, assisted to catch our capricious animals, who had nearly scampered off, and replaced us on the hard backs of these headstrong creatures. At noon the heat became so violent, that even the Moors themselves bore it with difficulty. We then determined on finding some shade behind the high mounds of sand which appeared in the interior; but how were we to reach them! The sands could not be hotter. We had been obliged to leave our asses on the shore, for they would neither advance nor recede. The greater part of us had neither shoes nor hats; notwithstanding, we were obliged to go forward almost a long league to find a little shade. The heat reflected by the sands of the Desert could be compared to nothing but the mouth of an oven at the moment of drawing out the bread; nevertheless, we endured it; but not without cursing those who had been the occasion of all our misfortunes. Arrived behind the heights for which we searched, we stretched ourselves under the Mimosa-gommier, (the acacia of the Desert), several broke branches from the asclepia (swallow-wort), and made themselves a shade. But whether from want of air, or the heat of the ground on which we were seated, we were nearly all suffocated. I thought my last hour was come. Already my eyes saw nothing but a dark cloud, when a person of the name of Borner, who was to have been a smith at Senegal, gave me a boot containing some muddy water, which he had had the precaution to keep. I seized the elastic vase, and hastened to swallow the liquid in large draughts. One of my companions, equally tormented with thirst, envious of the pleasure I seemed to feel, and which I felt effectually, drew the foot from the boot, and seized it in his turn, but it availed him nothing. The water which remained was so disgusting, that he could not drink it, and spilled it on the ground. Captain Bégnère, who was present, judging, by the water which fell, how loathsome must that have been which I had drank, offered me some crumbs of biscuit, which he had kept most carefully in his pocket. I chewed that mixture of bread, dust, and tobacco, but I could not swallow it, and gave it all masticated to one of my young brothers, who had fallen from inanition.

We were about to quit this furnace, when we saw our generous Englishman approaching, who brought us provisions. At this sight I felt my strength revive, and ceased to desire death, which I had before called on to release me from my sufferings. Several Moors accompanied Mr Carnet, and every one was loaded. On their arrival we had water, with rice and dried fish in abundance. Every one drank his allowance of water, but had not ability to eat, although the rice was excellent. We were all anxious to return to the sea, that we might bathe ourselves, and the caravan put itself on the road to the breakers of Sahara. After an hour's march of great suffering, we regained the shore, as well as our asses, who were lying in the water. We rushed among the waves, and after a bath of half an hour, we reposed ourselves upon the beach. My cousin and I went to stretch ourselves upon a small rising ground, where we were shaded with some old clothes which we had with us. My cousin was clad in an officer's uniform, the lace of which strongly attracted the eyes of Mr Carnet's Moors. Scarcely had we lain down, when one of them, thinking we were asleep, came to endeavour to steal it; but seeing we were awake, contented himself by looking at us very steadfastly.

Such is the slight incident which it has pleased MM. Corréard and Savigny to relate in their account of the shipwreck of the Medusa in a totally different manner. Believing doubtless to make it more interesting or amusing, they say, that one of the Moors who were our guides, either through curiosity or a stronger sentiment, approached Miss Picard whilst asleep, and, after having examined her form, raised the covering which concealed her bosom, gazing awhile like one astonished, at length drew nearer, but durst not touch her. Then, after having looked a long while, he replaced the covering; and, returning to his companions, related in a joyous manner what he had seen. Several Frenchmen having observed the proceedings of the Moor, told M. Picard, who, after the obliging offers of the officers, decided in clothing the rest of the ladies in the military dress on purpose to prevent their being annoyed by the attentions of the inhabitants of the Desert. Mighty well! I beg pardon of MM. Corréard and Savigny, but there is not one word of truth in all this. How could these gentlemen see from the raft that which passed during the 12th of July on the shore of the Desert of Sahara? And supposing that this was reported to them by some one of our caravan, and inserted in their work, which contains various other inaccuracies, I have to inform them they have been deceived.

About three in the morning, a north-west wind having sprung up and a little refreshed us, our caravan continued its route; our generous Englishman again taking the task of procuring us provisions. At four o'clock the sky became overcast, and we heard thunder in the distance. We all expected a great tempest, which, happily did not take place. Near seven we reached the spot where we were to wait for Mr. Carnet, who came to us with a bullock he had purchased. Then quitting the shore, we went into the interior to seek a place to cook our supper. We fixed our camp beside a small wood of acacias, near to which were several wells or cisterns of fresh water. Our ox was instantly killed, skinned, cut to pieces, and distributed. A large fire was kindled, and each was occupied in dressing his meal. At this time I caught a smart fever; notwithstanding I could not help laughing at seeing every one seated round a large fire holding his piece of beef on the point of a bayonet, a sabre, or some sharp-pointed stick. The flickering of the flames on the different faces, sunburned and covered with long beards, rendered more visible by the darkness of the night, joined to the noise of the waves and the roaring of ferocious beasts which we heard in the distance, presented a spectacle at once laughable and imposing. If a David or a Girodet had seen us, said I to myself, we would soon have been represented on canvass in the galleries of the Louvre as real cannibals; and the Parisian youth, who know not what pleasure it is to devour a handful of wild purslain, to drink muddy water from a boot, to eat a roast cooked in smoke—who know not, in a word, how comfortable it is to have it in one's power to satisfy one's appetite when hungry in the burning deserts of Africa, would never have believed that, among these half-savages, were several born on the banks of the Seine.

Whilst these thoughts were passing across my mind, sleep overpowered my senses. Being awaked in the middle of the night, I found my portion of beef in the shoes which an old sailor had lent me for walking among the thorns. Although it was a little burned and smelt strongly of the dish in which it was contained, I eat a good part of it, and gave the rest to my friend the sailor. That seaman, seeing I was ill, offered to exchange my meat for some which he had had the address to boil in a small tin-box. I prayed him to give me a little water if he had any, and he instantly went and fetched me some in his hat. My thirst was so great that I drank it out of this nasty cap without the slightest repugnance.

A short while after, every one awoke, and again took the route for arriving at Senegal at an early hour. Towards seven in the morning, having fallen a little behind the caravan, I saw several Moors coming towards me armed with lances. A young sailor boy, aged about twelve years, who sometimes walked with me, stopped and cried in great terror, "Ah! my God, lady, see the Moors are coming, and the caravan is already a great way before us; if they should carry us away?" I told him to fear nothing, although I was really more frightened than he was. These Arabs of the Desert soon came up to us. One of them advanced with a threatening air, and stopping my ass, addressed to me, in his barbarous language, some words which he pronounced with menacing gestures. My little ship-boy having made his escape, I began to weep; for the Moor always prevented my ass going forward, who was perhaps as well content at resting a little. However, from the gestures which he made, I supposed he wished to know whither I was going, and I cried as loud as I could, "Ndar! Ndar!" (Senegal! Senegal!) the only African words I then knew. At this the Moor let go the bridle of my ass, and also assisted me by making him feel the full weight of the pole of his lance, and then ran off to his companions, who were roaring and laughing. I was well content at being freed from my fears; and what with the word ndar, and the famous thump of his spear, which was doubtless intended for my ass, I soon rejoined the caravan. I told my parents of my adventure, who were ignorant of what had detained me; they reprimanded me as they ought, and I promised faithfully never again to quit them.

At nine o'clock we met upon the shore a large flock herded by young Moors. These shepherds sold us milk, and one of them offered to lend my father an ass for a knife which he had seen him take from his pocket. My father having accepted the proposal, the Moor left his companions to accompany us as far as the river Senegal, from which we were yet two good leagues. There happened a circumstance in the forenoon which had like to have proved troublesome, but it turned out pleasantly. The steersman of the Medusa was sleeping upon the sand, when a Moor found means to steal his sabre. The Frenchman awoke, and as soon as he saw the thief escaping with his booty, rose and pursued him with horrid oaths. The Arab, seeing himself followed by a furious European, returned, fell upon his knees, and laid at the feet of the steersman the sabre which he had stolen; who, in his turn, touched with this mark of confidence or repentance, voluntarily gave it to him to keep. During this scene we frequently stopped to see how it would terminate, whilst the caravan continued its route. Suddenly we left the shore. Our companions appearing quite transported with joy, some of us ran forward, and having gained a slight rising ground, discovered the Senegal at no great distance from them. We hastened our march, and for the first time since our shipwreck, a smiling picture presented itself to our view. The trees always green, with which that noble river is shaded, the humming birds, the red-birds, the paroquets, the promerops, &c. who flitted among their long yielding branches, caused in us emotions difficult to express. We could not satiate our eyes with gazing on the beauties of this place, verdure being so enchanting to the sight, especially after having travelled through the Desert. Before reaching the river, we had to descend a little hill covered with thorny bushes. My ass stumbling threw me into the midst of one, and I tore myself in several places, but was easily consoled when I at length found myself on the banks of a river of fresh water. Every one having quenched his thirst, we stretched ourselves under the shade of a small grove, whilst the beneficent Mr Carnet and two of our officers set forward to Senegal to announce our arrival, and to get us boats. In the meanwhile some took a little repose, and others were engaged in dressing the wounds with which they were covered.

At two in the afternoon, we saw a small boat beating against the current of the stream with oars. It soon reached the spot where we were. Two Europeans landed, saluted our caravans, and inquired for my father. One of them said he came on the part of MM. Artigue and Labouré, inhabitants of Senegal, to offer assistance to our family; the other added, that he had not waited for the boats which were getting ready for us at the island of St Louis, knowing too well what would be our need. We were desirous of thanking them, but they instantly ran off to the boat and brought us provisions, which my father's old friends had sent him. They placed before us large baskets containing several loaves, cheese, a bottle of Madeira, a bottle of filtered water, and dresses for my father. Every one, who, during our journey, had taken any interest in our unfortunate family, and especially the brave Captain Bégnère, had a share of our provisions. We experienced a real satisfaction in partaking with them, and giving them this small mark of our gratitude.

A young aspirant of marine, who had refused us a glass of water in the Desert, pressed with hunger, begged of us some bread; he got it, also a small glass of Madeira.

It was four o'clock before the boats of the government arrived, and we all embarked. Biscuit and wine were found in each of them, and all were refreshed.

That in which our family were was commanded by M. Artigue, captain of the port, and one of those who had sent us provisions. My father and he embraced as two old friends who had not seen one another for eight years, and congratulated themselves that they had been permitted to meet once more before they died. We had already made a league upon the river when a young navy clerk (M. Mollien) was suddenly taken ill. We put him ashore, and left him to the care of a negro to conduct him to Senegal when he should recover.

Immediately the town of St Louis presented itself to our view. At the distance its appearance is fine; but in proportion as it is approached the illusion vanishes, and it looks as it really is—dirty, very ill built, poor, and filled with straw huts black with smoke. At six in the evening we arrived at the port of St Louis. It would be in vain for me to paint the various emotions of my mind at that delicious moment. I am bold to say all the colony, if we except MM. Schmaltz and Lachaumareys, were at the port to receive us from our boats. M. Artigue going on shore first to acquaint the English governor of our arrival, met him coming to us on horseback, followed by our generous conductor Mr Carnet, and several superior officers. We went on shore carrying our brothers and sisters in our arms. My father presented us to the English governor, who had alighted; he appeared to be sensibly affected with our misfortunes, the females and children chiefly exciting his commiseration. And the native inhabitants and Europeans tenderly shook the hands of the unfortunate people; the negro slaves even seemed to deplore our disastrous fate.

The governor placed the most sickly of our companions in an hospital; various inhabitants of the colony received others into their houses; M. Artigue obligingly took charge of our family. Arriving at his house we there found his wife, two ladies and an English lady, who begged to be allowed to assist us. Taking my sister Caroline and myself, she conducted us to her house, and presented us to her husband, who received us in the most affable manner; after which she led us to her dressing-room, where we were combed, cleansed, and dressed by the domestic negresses, and were most obligingly furnished with linen from her own wardrobe, the whiteness of which was strongly contrasted with our sable countenances. In the midst of my misfortunes my soul had preserved all its strength; but this sudden change of situation affected me so much, that I thought my intellectual faculties were forsaking me. When I had a little recovered from my faintness, our generous hostess conducted us to the saloon, where we found her husband and several English officers sitting at table. These gentlemen invited us to partake of their repast; but we took nothing but tea and some pastry. Among these English was a young Frenchman, who, speaking sufficiently well their language, served to interpret between us. Inviting us to recite to them the story of our shipwreck and all our misfortunes, which we did in few words, they were astonished how females and children had been able to endure so much fatigue and misery. We were so confused by our agitation, that we scarcely heard the questions which were put to us, having constantly before our eyes the foaming waves, and the immense tract of sand over which we had passed. As they saw we had need of repose, they all retired, and our worthy Englishwoman put us to bed, where we were not long before we fell into a profound sleep.

CHAPTER X.

THE ENGLISH REFUSE TO CEDE THE COLONY OF SENEGAL TO THE FRENCH—THE WHOLE OF THE FRENCH EXPEDITION ARE OBLIGED TO GO AND ENCAMP ON THE PENINSULA OF CAPE VERD—THE PICARD FAMILY OBTAIN LEAVE OF THE ENGLISH GOVERNOR TO REMAIN AT SENEGAL—POVERTY OF THAT FAMILY—ASSISTANCE WHICH THEY RECEIVE—ENTERPRISE OF M. PICARD—RESTORATION OF THE COLONY TO THE FRENCH—DESCRIPTION OF SENEGAL AND ITS ENVIRONS.

At nine o'clock next morning, after our arrival, we felt quite free from all our fatigues. We arose, and, as soon as we were dressed, went to thank our generous host and hostess, Mr and Mrs Kingsley; then went to see our parents; and afterwards returned to our benefactors, who were waiting breakfast for us. Our conversation was frequently interrupted during our meal, as they were but little acquainted with the French language, and we knew nothing of English. After breakfast we learned that the English governor had not received any orders for giving up the colony to the French; and until that took place, the whole of the French expedition would be obliged to go to the peninsula of Cape Verd, distant from Senegal about fifty leagues. This information distressed us much, but our affliction was at its height, when my father came and told that the French governor, M. Schmaltz, had ordered him to quit Senegal with all his family, and go and stay at Cape Verd, until farther orders. Mr and Mrs Kingsley, sensibly affected with the misfortunes we had already experienced, assured us they would not part with us, and that they would endeavour to obtain the permission of the English governor. In fact, on the following day, that gentleman informed us by his aid-de-camp, that, having seen the wretched condition in which our family were, he had allowed us to remain at Senegal, and that he had permitted all the officers of the Medusa to stay. This renewed instance of the benevolence of the English governor tranquillized us. We remained comfortably at the house of our benefactors; but a great part of our unhappy companions in misfortune, fearing if they stayed at Senegal they would disobey the French governor, set off for Cape Verd, where hunger and death awaited them. Our family lived nearly twenty days with our benevolent hosts MM. Artigue and Kingsley; but my father, fearing we were too great a burden for the extraordinary expenses which they made each day for us, hired a small apartment, and, on the first of August, we took possession of it, to the great regret of our generous friends, who wished us to stay with them till the surrender of the colony. When we were settled in out new habitation, my father sent a petition to M. Schmaltz, for the purpose of obtaining provisions from the general magazine of the French administration; but, angry with the reception we had met with from the English, he replied he could not give him any thing. Nevertheless, several French officers, who, like ourselves, had remained at Senegal, each day received their rations, or, which was better, were admitted to the table of M. D——, with whom also the governor, his family and staff, messed. It may be remarked here, that this same M. D——, advanced to the governor of the forts, in provisions and money, to the amount of 50,000 francs; and, it was the general opinion, found means to charge cent. per cent. on these advances, as a small perquisite for himself; moreover, he received, at the request of the governor, the decoration of the Legion of Honour. But I return to that which concerns myself. My father being unable to obtain any thing, either from the governor or M. D——, was obliged to borrow money to enable us to subsist. We were reduced to feed on negroes food, for our means would not allow us to purchase bread at 15 sous the pound, and wine at 3 francs the bottle. However, we were content, and perfectly resigned to our fate; when an English officer, Major Peddie, came and visited us precisely at the moment we were at dinner. That gentleman, astonished at seeing an officer of the French administration dining upon a dish of Kouskou,[7] said to my father: "How, Mr Picard! you being in the employment of your government, and living so meanly!" Mortified that a stranger should have seen his misery, my father felt his tears flowing; but, instantly collecting himself, said in a calm yet firm tone, "Know, Sir, that I blush not for my poverty, and that you have wronged me by upbraiding me. It is true I have not food like the other Europeans in the colony; but I do not consider myself the more unfortunate. I have requested the man who represents my sovereign in this country, to give me the rations to which I have a right; but he has had the inhumanity to refuse. But what of that? I know how to submit, and my family also." Major Peddie, at these words, touched with our misfortunes, and vexed, doubtless, at having mortified us, though that certainly was not his intention, bade us good bye, and retired. Early on the morning of next day, we received a visit from M. Dubois, mayor of the town of St Louis in Senegal. That good and virtuous magistrate told us he had come, at the instance of the English governor, to offer us assistance; viz. an officer's allowance, which consisted of bread, wine, meat, sugar, coffee, &c. As my father had not been able to procure any thing from governor Schmaltz, he thought it his duty to accept that which the English governor had so generously offered. We thanked M. Dubois; and, in a few hours afterwards, we had plenty of provisions sent to us.

[7] Vide [Note A].

If my father had made himself some enemies among the authors of the shipwreck of the Medusa, and the abandoning the raft, he was recompensed by real good friends among the old inhabitants of Senegal, who, with himself, deplored the fate of the unfortunate beings who were left in the midst of the ocean. Among the numerous friends my father had, I ought particularly to mention the families of Pellegrin, Darneville, Lamotte, Dubois, Artigue, Feuilletaine, Labouré, Valentin, Debonnet, Boucaline, Waterman, &c.: And in truth all the inhabitants of Senegal, if we except one family, were disposed to befriend us. Even the poor negroes of the interior, after hearing of our misfortunes, came and offered us a small share of their crop. Some gave us beans, others brought us milk, eggs, &c.; in a word, every one offered us some assistance, after they had heard to what misery our shipwreck had reduced us.

About a month after our arrival at Senegal, we went to look at the islands of Babaguey and Safal, situated about two leagues from the town of St Louis. The first of these islands had been given to M. Artigue, who had cultivated it; the other had been given to my father in 1807, and he had planted in it about one hundred thousand cotton plants, when the capture of Senegal by the English in 1809 obliged him to abandon his projects, and return to France.

Those who have seen the countries of Europe, and admired the fine soil of France, need not expect to enjoy the same scene at Senegal. Every where nature shows a savage and arid aspect; every where the dregs of a desert and parched soil presents itself to the view; and it is only by care and unremitting toil it can be made to produce any thing. All the cotton which my father had planted in the island of Safal had been devoured by the cattle during his absence; he found not a plant. He then proposed to begin again his first operations. After having walked round the island of Safal, we went to dine with M. Artigue in the island of Babaguey, where we spent the remainder of the day, and in the evening returned to the town of Senegal. Some days after this jaunt, my father endeavoured to find whether the plants with which the island was covered would be useful in making potass. He arranged with a person in Senegal to hire for him some negroes, and a canoe to gather the ashes of the plants after they were burned. A covered gallery which we had in the small house we inhabited, seemed convenient to hold the apparatus of our manufacture. Here we placed our coppers. We then commenced the making of potass, waiting for the surrender of the colony. The first essay we made gave us hopes. Our ashes produced a potass of fine colour, and we did not doubt of succeeding, when we should have sent a sample of it to France. We made about four barrels, and my father sent a box of it to a friend of his at Paris to analyze. Whilst waiting the reply of the chemist, he hired three negroes to begin the cultivation of his island of Safal. He went himself to direct their operations, but he fell ill of fatigue. Fortunately his illness was not of long continuance, and in the month of December he was perfectly recovered. At this period an English expedition went from Senegal into the interior of Africa, commanded by Major Peddie,[8] the gentleman who had given so great assistance to the unfortunates of the Medusa. That worthy philanthropic Englishman died soon after his departure; we sincerely lamented him.

[8] Vide [Note B].

On the 1st of January 1817, the colony of Senegal was surrendered to the French. The English left it, some for Great Britain, others for Sierra Leone and the Cape of Good Hope; and France entered into all her possessions on the west coast of Africa. We remained yet a month in our first house; at last we procured one much larger. My father then commenced his functions of attorney, and we at last began to receive provisions from the French government. The house in which we lived was very large; but the employment which my father followed was very incompatible with the tranquillity we desired. To remove us from the noise and tumultuous conversations of the people who perpetually came to the office, we had a small hut of reeds constructed for us in the midst of our garden, which was very large. Here my sister, my cousin, and myself, passed the greater part of the day. From that time we began to see a little of the world, and to return unavoidable visits. Every Sunday the family went to the island of Safal, where we very agreeably spent the day; for that day seemed as short in the country, as the six other days of the week were long and listless at Senegal. That country was so little calculated for people of our age, that we continually teazed our father to return with us to France. But as he had great expectations from the manufacture of potass, he made us stay, as we would be of great service to him in the end, for superintending the works of that manufacture.

It is now time to give a brief description of Senegal and its environs, to enable the reader better to appreciate that which I have to say in the sequel.

Travellers who have written about Africa, have given too magnificent a picture of that country known by the name of Senegal. Apparently, after the fatigues of a long and tedious journey, they have been charmed with the first fresh spot where they could repose. That first impression has all the force of reality to the superficial observer; but if he remain any time, the illusion vanishes, and Senegal appears what it really is—a parched and barren country, destitute of the most necessary vegetables for the nourishment and preservation of the health of man.

The town of St Louis, which is also called Senegal, because it is the head-quarters of the French establishments on that coast, is built upon a small island or a bank of sand, formed in the midst of the river Senegal, at about two leagues from its mouth. It is two thousand toises in length, and three hundred in breadth. The native inhabitants of the country call it Ndar, and Ba-Fing, or Black River, the river which waters it. The last name corresponds to that of Niger, which ancient geographers have given to that river.

The population of St Louis is about ten thousand souls, five hundred of whom are Europeans, two thousand negroes or free mulattoes, and nearly seven thousand five hundred slaves. There are about one hundred and fifty houses in St Louis inhabited by Europeans; the remainder consists of simple squares, or huts of straw, which a slight flame would cause to vanish in a moment, as well as all the houses of brick which are near them. The streets are spacious, but not paved. The greater part are so completely filled with sand, which the winds and hurricanes bring from the deserts of Sahara, that it is nearly impossible to walk along them when the winds are blowing. That fine and burning sand so impregnates the air, that it is inhaled, and swallowed with the food; in short, it penetrates every thing. The narrow and little frequented streets are often blocked up. Some of the houses are fine enough; they have but one story. Some have covered galleries; but in general the roofs are in the Oriental fashion, in the form of a terrace.

The gardens of Senegal, though their plants have been much praised, are nevertheless few in number, and in very bad condition. The whole of their cultivation is limited to some bad cabbages, devoured by the insects, a plot of bitter radishes, and two or three beds of salad, withered before it is fit for use; but these vegetables, it must be said, are very exquisite, because there are none better. The governor's garden, however, is stocked with various plants, such as cucumbers, melons, carrots, Indian pinks, some plants of barren ananas, and some marigolds. There are also in the garden three date trees, a small vine arbour, and some young American and Indian plants. But these do not thrive, as much on account of the poverty of the soil, as the hot winds of the Desert, which wither them. Some, nevertheless, are vigorous, from being sheltered by walls, and frequently watered.

Five or six trees, somewhat bushy (island fig-trees), are planted here and there in the streets, where may be seen also four or five baobabs, the leaves of which are devoured by the negroes before they are fully blown,[9] and a palm of the species of Ronn, which serves as a signal-post for ships at sea.

[9] The negroes use the leaves of the Baobab as gluten, prepare their Kouskou, (a kind of pulp).

A league and a half from the island of St Louis, is situated the island of Babaguey. It is almost entirely cultivated, but the soil is so arid that it will scarcely grow any thing but cotton. There is a military station on this island, and a signal-post. MM. Artigue and Gansfort each have a small dwelling here. The house, built in the European manner, which is there seen, serves to hold the soldiers, and to accommodate the officers of Senegal on their parties of pleasure.

The island of Safal is situated to the east of Babaguey, and is separated from it by an arm of the river. This was the asylum which we chose in the end to withdraw from misery, as will be seen in the sequel.

To the east of the island of Safal, is situated the large island of Bokos, the fertility of which is very superior to the three preceding. Here are seen large fields of millet, maize, cotton, and indigo, of the best quality. The negroes have established large villages here, the inhabitants of which live in happy ease.

To the north of these islands, and to the east of Senegal, is the island of Sor, where resides a kind of Black Prince, called by the French Jean Bart. The general aspect of this island is arid, but there are places susceptible of being made into large plantations. M. Valentin, merchant at St Louis, has already planted several thousand feet of cotton, which is in a thriving condition. But that island being very much exposed to the incursions of the Moors of the Desert, it would perhaps be imprudent to live in it.

A multitude of other islands, formed by the encroachments of the river upon the mainland, border on those of which I have already spoken, several leagues distant to the north and east. They are principally covered with marshes, which it would be difficult to drain. In these islands grows the patriarch of vegetables described by the celebrated Adanson, under the name of Baobab,[10] the circumference of which is often found to be above one hundred feet.

[10] Vide [Note C].

Several other islands, more or less extended than the preceding, rise above the river near to St Louis, as far as Podor; the greater part of which are not inhabited, although their soil is as fertile as those near Senegal. This indifference of the negroes in cultivating these islands, is explained by the influence which the Moors of the Desert of Sahara are permitted to have over all the country bordering upon Senegal, the inhabitants of which they carry off to sell to the slave merchants of the island of St Louis. It is not to be doubted, that the abolition of the slave trade, and the acquisition which the French have made in the country of Dagama, will soon destroy the preponderance of the barbarians of the Desert upon the banks of the Senegal; and that things being placed on their former footing, the negroes established in the French colonies will be permitted to enjoy in peace the fields which they have planted.

Among all the islands, Tolde, which is about two leagues in circumference, seems to be the most convenient for a military and agricultural station. The fertility of its soil, and its being situated between the two principal points where the gum trade is carried on, gives it the triple advantage of being able to maintain the garrison which is placed upon it, of protecting the trade and navigation of the river, and of preventing the Moors from driving away the negroes from their peaceful habitations. Plantations have already been made in the island of Tolde, of coffee, sugar-canes, indigo, and cotton, which have perfectly succeeded. M. Richard, agricultural botanist to the government, has placed there a general nursery for the French establishments. Three leagues from the island of Tolde, farther up the river, is the village of Dagama, situated upon the left bank of the river, and at the extremity of the kingdom of Brak, or of Walo. In that village, the French have already planted several batteries, where begin their agricultural establishments, which end about six leagues from the island of St Louis. A large portion of that ground has been given to the French planters, who have planted cotton upon it of the best kind, which promises to be a branch of lucrative commerce to France. Here is placed the plantation of M. Boucaline, as being the largest and best cultivated, the king having given him a premium of encouragement of 10,000 franks. A little distant from the plantation of Boucaline are the grounds of the royal grant, covered with more than ten thousand feet of cotton. This beautiful plantation, established by the care of M. Roger, now governor of Senegal, is at present directed by M. Rougemont with a zeal above all praise.

Near to the village of Dagama, up the river, is the island of Morfil, which is not less than fifty leagues from east to west, and about eight or ten in breadth. The negroes of the republic of Peules cultivate great quantities of millet, maize, indigo, cotton, and tobacco. The country of the Peules negroes extends about one hundred and twenty leagues, by thirty in breadth. It is a portion of the ancient empire of the negro Wolofs, which, in former times, comprehended all the countries situated between the rivers Senegal and Gambia. The country of the Peules is watered by a branch of the Senegal, which they call Morfil; and, like Lower Egypt, owes its extreme fertility to its annual overflowing. The surprising abundance of their harvests, which are twice a year, makes it considered as the granary of Senegal. Here are to be seen immense fields finely cultivated, extensive forests producing the rarest and finest kinds of trees, and a prodigious diversity of plants and shrubs fit for dying and medicine.

To the east of the Peules is the country of Galam,[11] or Kayaga, situated two hundred leagues from the island of St Louis. The French have an establishment in the village of Baquel. This country, from its being a little elevated, enjoys at all times a temperature sufficiently cool and healthful. Its soil is considered susceptible of every species of cultivation: the mines of gold and silver, which border upon it, promise one day to rival the richest in the possession of Spain in the New World. This conjecture is sufficiently justified by the reports sent to Europe by the agents of the African and Indian Companies, and particularly by M. de Buffon, who, in a MS. deposited in the archives of the colonies, thus expresses himself:—"It is certain that there are found in the sand of the rivers (in the country of Galam) various precious stones, such as rubies, topazes, sapphires, and perhaps some diamonds; and there are in the mountains veins of gold and silver." Two productions, not less estimable perhaps than gold and silver, are indigenous to this fine country, and increase in the most prodigious manner there; viz. the Lotus, or bread-tree, of the ancients, spoken of by Pliny, and the Shea, or butter-tree,[12] of which the English traveller Mungo Park has given a description.

[11] Vide [Note D].

[12] Vide [Note E].

CHAPTER XI.

THE SICKNESS AND DEATH OF MADAME PICARD BREAK IN UPON THE HAPPINESS OF THE FAMILY—M. PICARD TURNS HIS VIEWS TO COMMERCE—BAD SUCCESS OF HIS ENTERPRISE—THE DISTRACTED AFFAIRS OF THE COLONY DISGUST HIM—THE CULTIVATION OF THE ISLAND OF SAFAL—SEVERAL MERCHANTS PROTEST AGAINST M. PICARD APPLYING HIMSELF TO COMMERCE—DEPARTURE OF THE EXPEDITION TO THE ISLAND OF GALAM—M. PICARD IS DEPRIVED OF HIS EMPLOYMENT AS ATTORNEY—HIS ELDEST DAUGHTER GOES TO LIVE IN THE ISLAND OF SAFAL WITH TWO OF HER BROTHERS.

We were happy enough, at least content, at Senegal, until the sickness of my stepmother broke in upon the repose we enjoyed. Towards the middle of July 1817, she fell dangerously ill; all the symptoms of a malignant fever appeared in her; and in spite of all the assistance of art and the care we bestowed upon her, she died in the beginning of November of the same year. Her loss plunged us all into the deepest affliction. My father was inconsolable. From that melancholy period, there was no happiness for our unfortunate family: chagrin, sickness, enemies, all seemed to conspire against us. A short while after her death my father received a letter from the chemist at Paris, informing him that the sample of potass which he had sent to France was nothing but marine salt, and some particles of potass and saltpetre. This news, although disagreeable, did not affect us, because we had still greater misfortunes to deplore. About the end of the year, my father finding his employment would scarcely enable him to support his numerous family, turned his attention to commerce, hoping thus to do some good, as he intended to send me to look after the family, and to take charge of the new improvements in the island, which had become very dear to him from the time he had deposited in it the mortal remains of his wife and his youngest child. For the better success of his project, he went into co-partnery with a certain personage in the colony; but instead of benefiting his speculations, as he had flattered himself, it proved nothing but loss. Besides he was cheated in an unworthy manner by the people in whom he had placed his confidence; and as he was prohibited by the French authorities from trafficking, he could not plead his own defence, nor get an account of the merchandise of which they had defrauded him. Some time after he had sustained this loss, he bought a large boat, which he refitted at a considerable expense. He made the purchase in the hope of being able to traffic with the Portuguese of the island of Cape Verd, but in vain; the governor of the colony prohibited him from all communication with these islands.

Such were the first misfortunes which we experienced at Senegal, and which were only the precursors of still greater to come.

Besides all these, my father had much trouble and vexation to endure in the employment he followed. The bad state of the affairs of the colony, the poverty of the greater part of its inhabitants, occasioned to him all sorts of contradictions and disagreements. Debts were not paid, the ready money sales did not go off; processes multiplied in a frightful manner; every day creditors came to the office soliciting actions against their debtors; in a word, he was in a state of perpetual torment either with his own personal matters, or with those of others. However, as he hoped soon to be at the head of the agricultural establishment projected at Senegal, he supported his difficulties with great courage.

In the expedition which was to have taken place in 1815, the Count Trigant de Beaumont, whom the king had appointed governor of Senegal, had promised my father to reinstate him in the rank of captain of infantry, which he had held before the Revolution, and after that to appoint him to the command of the counting-house of Galam, dependent upon the government of Senegal. In 1816, my father again left Paris with that hope, for the employment of attorney did not suit his disposition, which was peaceable and honest. He had the first gift of the documents concerning the countries where they were to found the agricultural establishments in Africa, and had proposed plans which were accepted of at the time by the President of the Council of State, and by the Minister of Marine, for the colonization of Senegal; but the unfortunate events of 1815 having overturned every thing, another governor was nominated for that colony in place of Count Trigant de Beaumont. All his plans and proposed projects were instantly altered for the purpose of giving them the appearance of novelty; and my father found himself in a situation to apply these lines of Virgil to himself.

"Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores."
These lines I made, another has the praise.

At first the new governor (M. Schmaltz) was almost disposed to employ my father in the direction of the Agricultural Establishment of Senegal; but he allowed himself to be circumvented by certain people, to whom my father had perhaps spoken too much truth. He thought no more of him, and we were set up as a mark of every kind of obloquy.

Finding then that he could no longer reckon upon the promises which had been made to him on the subject of the plans which he had proposed for the colony of Senegal, my father turned his attention to the island of Safal, which seemed to promise a little fortune for himself and family. He doubled the number of his labouring negroes, and appointed a black overseer for superintending his work.

In the beginning of 1818, we believed our cotton crop would make us amends for the loss which we had sustained at various times. All our plants were in the most thriving condition, and promised an abundant harvest. We had also sown maize, millet, and some country beans, which looked equally well.

At this period, M. Schmaltz was recalled to France. M. Flauriau succeeded him; but the nomination of the new governor did not alleviate our condition. Every Sunday my father went to visit his plantation, and to give directions for the labours of the week. He had built a large hut for the overseer, upon the top of a little hill, which was almost exactly in the centre of the island. It was at a little distance from the small house which he had raised as a tomb, to receive the remains of his wife and child, whom he had at first buried in a place to the south of the cotton field. He surrounded the monument of his sorrow with a kind of evergreen bean tree, which soon crept over the grave, and entirely concealed it from the view. This little grove of verdure attracted, by the freshness of its foliage, a multitude of birds, and served them for a retreat. My father never left this place but he was more tranquil, and less affected with his misfortunes.

Towards the middle of April, seeing his plants had produced less cotton than he expected, and that the hot winds and grasshoppers had made great havock in his plantations, my father decided to leave upon it but one old negro, for superintending the day-labourers, whom he had reduced to four. In the mean time, we learned that some merchants, settled at Senegal, had written to France against my father. They complained that he had not employed sufficient severity against some unfortunate persons who had not been able to pay their debts; and they exclaimed against some miserable speculations which he had made in the country of Fouta Toro, for procuring grain necessary for the support of his negroes.

The expedition to Galam making preparations for its departure,[13] my father, in spite of the insinuations of some merchants of the colony, was desirous also of trying his fortune. He associated himself with a person who was to make the voyage; he bought European goods, and refitted his boat, which again occasioned him loss. Towards the middle of August 1818, the expedition set off. A month after its departure, my cousin, whom the country had considerably affected, returned to France, to our great regret. My sister and myself found ourselves the only society to enable us to support our sorrows; however, as we hoped to return to France in a few years, we overcame our disappointment. We had already in some degree recovered our tranquillity, in spite of all our misfortunes and the solitude in which we lived, when my father received a letter from the governor of the colony, announcing to him, that, by the decision of the Minister of Marine, a new attorney had come to Senegal, and enjoining him at the same time to place the papers of the office in the hands of his successor.

[13] The voyage from Senegal to the country of Galam is made but once a year, because it is necessary to take advantage of the overflowing of the river, either in coming or going. The merchant boats which are destined to make the voyage, look like a fleet, and depart in the middle of August, under escort of a king's ship, commissioned to pay the droits and customs to the Negro princes of the interior, with whom that colony is connected.

Such a circumstance could not fail to affect us much; for the few resources we possessed made us anticipate an event almost as horrible as the shipwreck, which exposed our family to all the horrors of want in the boundless deserts of Sahara. My father, however, having nothing with which he could reproach himself, courageously supported this new misfortune, hoping sooner or later to be able to unmask those who had urged his ruin. He wrote a letter to his Excellency the Minister of Marine, in which he detailed the affairs of the office of the colony, the regularity of the accounts, the unfortunate condition to which his numerous family were reduced by the loss of his employment, and concluded with these words:—"Broken without being heard, at the end of twenty-nine years of faithful service, but too proud to make me afraid of a disgrace which cannot but be honourable to me, especially as it has its source in those philanthropic principles which I manifested in the abandoning of the raft of the Medusa, I resign myself in silence to my destiny."

This letter, full of energy, although a little too firm, failed not to affect the feeling heart of the Minister of Marine, who wrote to the governor of Senegal to give my father some employment in the administration of the colony. But that order had either remained too long in the office of the minister, or the governor of Senegal had judged it proper not to communicate the good news to us, as we did not hear of the order of the minister till after the death of my father, nearly fifteen months after its date.

When my father had rendered his accounts, and installed his successor into the colony's office, he told me it would be quite necessary to think of returning into his island of Safal, to cultivate it ourselves. He persuaded me that our plantation suffered solely from the want of our personal care, and that the happiness and tranquillity of a country life would soon make us forget our enemies and our sufferings. It was then decided that I should set off on the morrow, with two of my brothers, to go and cultivate the cotton at the plantation. We took our little shallop, and two negro sailors, and, by daybreak, were upon the river, leaving at Senegal my father, my sister Caroline, and the youngest of our brothers and sisters.

CHAPTER XII.

MISS PICARD LIVES IN THE ISLAND OF SAFAL—HER MANNER OF LIVING—SUFFERINGS SHE ENDURED—SHE GATHERS FLOWERS WHICH CONTAIN A DELETERIOUS POISON—HER TWO BROTHERS FALL SICK—THEY ARE CONVEYED TO SENEGAL—MISS PICARD OVERCOME WITH MELANCHOLY ALSO FALLS SICK—STATE IN WHICH SHE IS FOUND—A NEGRO BOILS FOR HER AN OLD VULTURE—RETURN OF MISS PICARD TO SENEGAL—HER CONVALESCENCE—HER RETURN TO THE ISLAND OF SAFAL—M. PICARD GOES THERE TO LIVE WITH ALL HIS FAMILY—DESCRIPTION OF THE FURNITURE OF THE AFRICAN COTTAGE—COUNTRY LIFE—COMFORT OF THEIR FIRESIDE—WALKS OF THE FAMILY—LITTLE PLEASURES WHICH THEY ENJOY.

For the space of two months I endured, as did my little brothers, the beams of a burning sun, the irritations of insects and thorns, and the want of that food to which we had been accustomed. I suffered during all the day from a severe headache; but I collected from the ground which belonged to us the cotton, on which were founded all our hopes. At night my two young brothers and myself retired into the cottage, which we used in the island; the working negroes brought the cotton we had collected during the day; after which I set about preparing supper. The children, accompanied by the old negro Etienne (the keeper of the plantation), went and picked up some branches of dry wood. We lighted a large fire in the middle of the hut, and I kneaded the cakes of millet flour which were to be our supper, as well as what was to supply us next day. My paste being prepared, I laid each cake upon the fire which the children had lighted. Often, and especially when we were very hungry, I placed them on a shovel of iron which I set upon the fire. This quick mode of proceeding procured us millet-bread in less than half an hour; but it must be confessed that this species of wafers or cakes, though well enough prepared and baked, was far from having the taste of those we eat at Paris. However, to make them more palatable, I added butter when I had it, or we ate them with some sour milk. With the first dish was served up at the same time the dessert, which stood in place of dainties, of roast meat and salad; it generally consisted of boiled beans, or roasted pistachio nuts. On festival days, being those when my father came to see us, we forgot our bad fare in eating the sweet bread he brought with him from Senegal.

In the month of December 1818, having gone one morning with my brothers to take a walk among the woods behind our cottage, I found a tree covered with blossoms as white as snow, and which had a delicious smell. We gathered a great quantity of them, which we carried home; but these flowers, as we afterwards found by sad experience, contained a deleterious poison. Their strong and pungent odour caused violent pains in the head, forerunners of a malignant fever, which brought us within two steps of the grave. Two days after my young brothers were seized; fortunately my father arrived on the following day, and removed them to Senegal.

Now then I was alone with my old negro Etienne in the island of Safal, far from my family, isolated in the midst of a desert island, in which the birds, the wolves, and the tigers, composed the sole population. I gave free course to my tears and sorrows. The civilized world, said I to myself, is far from me, an immense river separates me from my friends. Alas! what comfort can I find in this frightful solitude? What can I do upon this wretched earth? But although I had said I was unfortunate, was I not necessary to my unhappy father? Had I not promised to assist him in the education of his children, whom cruel death had deprived of their mother? Yes! yes! I was too sensible my life was yet necessary. Engaged in these melancholy reflections, I fell into a depression of mind which it would be difficult to describe. Next morning the tumult of my thoughts led me to the banks of the river, where the preceding evening I had seen the canoe carry away my father and my young brothers. There I fixed my humid eyes upon the expanse of water without seeing any thing but a horrible immensity; then, as recovered from my sorrow, I turned to the neighbouring fields to greet the flowers and plants which the sun was just beginning to gild. They were my friends, my companions; they alone could yet alleviate my melancholy, and render my loneliness supportable. At last the star of day arising above the horizon, admonished me to resume my labours.

Having returned to the cottage, I went to the harvest with Etienne. For the space of two days, I continued at my accustomed occupation, but on the morning of the third, on returning from the plantation to the house, I felt myself suddenly seized with a violent pain in my head. As soon as I reached home I lay down. On the morning I found myself unable to rise out of bed; a burning fever had manifested itself during the night, and even deprived me of the hope of being able to return to Senegal.

I was incapable of doing any thing. The good Etienne, touched with my condition, took his fowling-piece, and went into the neighbouring woods, to endeavour to shoot me some game. An old vulture was the only produce of the chase. He brought it to me, and, in spite of the repugnance I expressed for that species of bird, he persisted in boiling some of it for me. In about an hour afterwards, he presented me with a bowl of that African broth; but I found it so bitter, I could not swallow it. I felt myself getting worse, and every moment seemed to be the last of life. At last, about noon, having collected all my remaining strength, I wrote to my father the distressed state I was in; Etienne took the charge of carrying my letter, and left me alone in the midst of our island. At night I experienced a great increase of fever; my strength abandoned me entirely; I was unable to shut the door of the house in which I lay. I was far from my family; no human being dwelt in the island; no person witnessed my sufferings; I fell into a state of utter unconsciousness, and I knew not what I did during the remainder of the night. On the following morning, having recovered from my insensibility, I heard some person near me utter sorrowful cries; it was my good sister Caroline. I opened my eyes, and, to my astonishment, found myself at Senegal, surrounded by my afflicted family. I felt as if I had returned from the other world. My father had set off on the instant he received my letter, with Etienne to the island, and, finding me delirious, took me to Senegal without my being conscious of it. Recovering by degrees from my confusion, I was desirous of seeing my brothers, who had been attacked the same way as myself. Our house looked like an hospital. Here a dying child wished them to take away the monster he imagined he saw before his bed; there another demanded something to drink, then, refusing to take the medicines which were offered to him, filled the house with his groans; at a distance my feeble voice was heard asking something to quench the thirst which consumed me.

However, the unremitting care we received, as well as the generous medicine of M. Quincey, with the tender concern of my father and my sister Caroline, soon placed us out of danger. I then understood that the flowers I had had the imprudence to collect in the wood of Safal, had been the principal cause of my illness, as well as that of my brothers. In the meanwhile, my father built two new huts in the island, with the intention of going and living there with all his family. But, as his affairs kept him yet some days at Senegal, he was prevented from returning to Safal with the children to continue the collecting of cotton. On the morrow, we all three set off. When we had arrived upon the Marigot, in the island of Babaguey, we hailed the keeper of our island to come and take us over in his canoe. In the mean time I amused myself in looking at our habitation, which seemed to be very much embellished since my departure, as it had been augmented with two new cottages. I discovered the country to be much greener since I last saw it; in a word, all nature seemed smiling and beautiful. At last Etienne, to whom we had been calling for a quarter of an hour, arrived with his canoe, into which we stepped, and soon were again in the island of Safal.

Arrived at my cottage, I began to examine all the changes my father had made during my illness. The small cottage situated to the west, I chose as my sleeping apartment. It was well made with straw and reeds yet green, and the window, whence was seen the cotton-field, was of the greatest advantage to me. I began to clean the floor of our apartments, which was nothing else than sand, among which were various roots and blades of grass. After that I went to visit the little poultry yard, where I found two ducks and some hens placed there a short while before. I was very glad of these little arrangements; and returned to the principal cottage to prepare breakfast. After this we betook ourselves to the business of cotton gathering.

Eight days had already elapsed since our return to the island of Safal, when one morning we perceived our shallop upon the river, which we always knew by a signal placed upon the mast-head. It was my father, who brought twelve negroes with him, which he had hired at Senegal, for assisting him in the cultivation of his island. The men were instantly set to break up the soil; the women and children assisted us in gathering cotton. My father then dismissed the negroes, who worked by the day, as he had to come and go to Senegal, where the urgency of his business yet required his presence.

I remained a long while without seeing him; but, at the end of eight days, I was agreeably surprised at finding our boat in the little bay of Babaguey. I ran with the family negroes to disembark our effects, and I soon had the pleasure of holding my sister Caroline in my arms. My father came on shore afterwards with the youngest children, and all the family found themselves united under the roof of the African Cottage, in the island of Safal. "You see, my child," said my father to me on entering our huts, "you see all our riches! we have neither moveables nor house at Senegal; every thing we can claim as our own is here." I embraced my father, and my brothers and sisters, and then went to unload our boat. Our house was soon filled. It served at once for a cellar, granary, store-house, a parlour, and bed-chamber. However, we found a place for every thing. Next day we began to fit them up more commodiously. My sister and myself lived in the small house to the west; my father took up his residence in that towards the east; and the large hut in the centre was the place where the children slept. Round about the last we suspended some boards by cords, to hold our dishes and various kitchen utensils. A table, two benches, some chairs, a large couch, some old barrels, a mill to grind the cotton, implements of husbandry, constituted the furniture of that cottage. Nevertheless, in spite of its humbleness, the sun came and gilded our roofs of straw and reeds. My father fitted up his cottage as a study. Here were boards suspended by small cords, upon which his books and papers were arranged with the greatest order;—there a fir board, supported by four feet, driven into the ground, served as a desk; at a distance stood his gun, his pistols, his sword, his clarionet, and some mathematical instruments. A chair, a small couch, a pitcher, and a cup, formed his little furniture.

Our cottage was situated on the top of a little hill of gentle ascent. Forests of mangrove-trees, gum-trees, tamarind-trees, sheltered us on the west, the north, and the east. To the south was situated the plantation which we called South-field. This field was already covered with about three hundred thousand feet of cotton, a third of which had nearly begun to be productive. Upon the banks of the river, and to the west of the cotton field, was situated our garden; finally, to the south of the plain, were our fields of maize, beans, and millet.

Our little republic, to which my father gave laws, was governed in the following manner:—We usually rose about day-break, and met altogether in the large cottage. After having embraced our father, we fell upon our knees to return thanks to the Supreme Being for the gift of another day. That finished, my father led the negroes to their work, during which my sister and myself arranged the family affairs, and prepared breakfast, when, about eight o'clock, he returned to the cottage. Breakfast being over, each took his little bag, and went and gathered cotton. About noon, as the heat became insupportable, all returned to the cottage, and worked at different employments. I was principally charged with the education of my young brothers and sisters, and the young negroes of the family. Round my little hut were suspended various pictures for study, upon which I taught them to read according to the method of mutual assistance. A bed of sand, smoothed upon a small bench, served the younger ones to trace and understand the letters of the alphabet: the others wrote upon slates. We bestowed nearly two hours upon each exercise, and then my scholars amused themselves at different games. At three o'clock, all returned to the cotton field, and remained till five. Dinner, which we usually had at six, was followed by a little family conversation, in which the children were interrogated concerning what they had been taught during the day. When I was well pleased with them, I promised them a story, or a fable, in the evening. Sometimes after dinner, we went to take a short walk on the banks of the river; then returned to the cottage, where Etienne had had the care of lighting a large fire, the heat of which forced the musquitoes and gnats to yield their place to the little circle which our family made round the hearth. Then my sister Caroline and myself related some fables to the children, or read them a lesson from the Evangelists or the Bible; whilst my father smoked his pipe, amusing himself by contemplating all his family around him. The hour of going to bed being arrived, we made a common prayer, after which all retired to their separate huts to sleep.

Thus did our days glide away amid the occupations of the fields and the recreations of the family. On Sundays, our labours were suspended. Sometimes to spend the day more agreeably, and avoid the molestations of the hunters, who often came to our island, we went to the island of Bokos, situated to the east of Safal. On reaching it, we seated ourselves under a large baobab, which was more than thirty feet in circumference. After having finished our humble repast under the umbrage of that wonderful tree, my father would go and amuse himself with the chase; my sister Caroline and myself went to search for rare plants, to assist our studies in botany; whilst the children hunted butterflies and other insects. Charles, the eldest of the boys, swam like a fish; and, when my father shot a duck or aigrette upon the water, he would instantly throw himself in, and fetch the game. At other times he would climb to the top of the trees to rob the birds, or bury himself in the midst of bushes to gather the fruits of the country, then ran, all breathless and delighted, to present us with his discovery. We would remain in the island till nearly four in the afternoon, then return to our boat, and our negroes rowed us to our island.

During the time of the greatest heats, for we could not long endure the rays of the sun, we passed a part of the Sunday under a very bushy tamarind-tree, which stood at a little distance from our cottage. Thus, in the good old times, did the lords, barons, and marquises gather themselves under the old elms of the village, to discuss the concerns of their vassals; in like manner did my father collect us under the tamarind-tree to regulate the affairs of his republic, and also to enjoy the landscapes which our island afforded. We sometimes took our meals there, and on those occasions the ground served us at once for table, table-cloth, and seat. The children gamboled on the grass, and played a thousand tricks to amuse us. We now began to discover that every condition of life had its own peculiar enjoyments. If the labours of the week seemed long and laborious, the Sabbath recompensed us by our country recreations. We lived thus for some time in the greatest tranquillity. Shut up in a desert island, from all society, we ventured to think we had discovered the condition of real happiness.

Every Wednesday we sent two negroes to the village of Gandiolle, to purchase provisions, such as butter, milk, eggs, &c. One day, however, my father resolved to purchase a cow and thirty fowls, that we might have in our island all the little necessaries used by a family. Our poultry yard being thus augmented, we looked upon ourselves as great as the richest princes in Africa; and in truth, since we had a cottage, milk, butter, eggs, maize, millet, cotton, tranquillity and health, what more was necessary for our comfort?

CHAPTER XIII.

FRESH MISFORTUNES—DESERTION OF THE WORKING NEGROES—RETURN OF M. SCHMALTZ TO SENEGAL—HOPE DESTROYED—GOVERNOR SCHMALTZ REFUSES ALL KIND OF ASSISTANCE TO THE PICARD FAMILY—TIGERS DEVOUR THE HOUSEHOLD DOG—TERROR OF MISS PICARD—BAD HARVEST—CRUEL PROSPECT OF THE FAMILY—INCREASE OF MISFORTUNES—SOME GENEROUS PERSONS OFFER ASSISTANCE TO M. PICARD.

Whilst we were thus enjoying in peace our little good fortune, my father received a letter, desiring him to return to Senegal in all possible speed. He went, and left me at the head of our establishment, but a great misfortune happened, which we could not prevent;—six of our labouring negroes, whom he had hired, deserted during the night, and took our small boat with them. I was extremely distressed, and instantly made Etienne swim the river, and go and beg of the President at Babaguey to take him to my father, who was still at Senegal, to tell him the melancholy news. That good negro was soon on the other side of the water, and went to M. Lerouge (the name of the president), who gave him his canoe. At night, we saw him returning without my father, who went into the country to search for the fugitive negroes. He spent three whole days in the countries of Gandiolle and Touby, which lie in the neighbourhood of our island, but all his labour was in vain. The deserting negroes had already gained the forests of the interior; and my father, exhausted with fatigue, returned to Safal. I confess, though I was deeply distressed at the desertion of these slaves, who were so necessary to us for realizing our agricultural projects, my heart could not blame these unfortunate creatures, who only sought to recover that freedom from which they had been torn.

At this date, that is about the 1st of March 1819, we learned that M. Schmaltz had returned from France, and was in the Bay of St Louis; and that the Minister of Marine had approved of all the projects relative to the agricultural establishment at Senegal. This news revived my father's hopes. As this establishment had been originally proposed by him, he flattered himself they would do him justice in the end. In this expectation, he went to meet with governor Schmaltz, who had to pass our house on the morrow; but he would not speak with him. On the following day, my father wrote to him from the hotel at St Louis; four days after which, we were assured that the governor was very far from wishing us well, and still farther from doing justice to my father. However, some of his friends encouraged him to make fresh endeavours, and persuaded him he would obtain a premium of encouragement for having first set the example of cultivating cotton at Senegal; they assured him also that funds had been sent to M. Schmaltz for that purpose. Vain hope! every claim was rejected, we had not even the satisfaction of knowing whether the premium which my father sought was due to him or not; we got no reply. My father wishing to make a last attempt to ward off the misery which menaced us, went to supplicate the governor to allow us either money to purchase food, or rations. This last petition was not more successful than the former. We were abandoned to our unhappy fate, whilst more than twenty persons, who had never done any service to the government, received gratis rations every day from the magazines of the colony. "Very well!" said my father to me, when he found he was refused that assistance which M. Schmaltz had ordered to the other unfortunate persons in the colony, "let the governor be happy if he can, I will not envy his felicity. Behold, my child, behold this roof of thatch which covers us; see these hurdles of reeds which moulder into dust, this bed of rashes, my body already impaired by years, and my children weeping around me for bread! You see a perfect picture of poverty! Nevertheless, there are yet beings upon the earth more unfortunate than we are!"—"Alas!" said I to him, "our misery is great; but I can support it, and even greater, without complaining, if I saw you exposed to less harassing cares. All your children are young, and of a good constitution; we can endure misfortune, and even habituate ourselves to it; but we have cause to fear that the want of wholesome and sufficient food will make you fall, and then we shall be deprived of the only stay we have upon earth."—"O! my dear child," cried my father, "you have penetrated into the secrets of my soul, you know all my fears, and I will no longer endeavour to conceal the sorrow which has weighed for a long time upon my heart. However, my death may perhaps be a blessing to my family; my bitter enemies will then doubtless cease to persecute you."—"My father," replied I, "break not my heart; how can you, forgetting your children, their tender affection, the assistance which you ought to give them, and which they have a right to expect from you, wish us to believe your death will be a benefit to us?" He was moved with these words, and his tears flowed in abundance; then, pressing me to his bosom, he cried, "No, no, my dear children, I will not die, but will live to procure for you an existence more comfortable than that you have experienced since we came to Senegal. From this moment I break every tie which binds me to the government of this colony; I will go and procure for you a new abode in the interior of the country of the negroes; yes, my dear children, we will find more humanity among the savage hordes that live in our neighbourhood, than among the greater part of those Europeans who compose the administration of the colony." In fact, some time after, my father obtained from the negro prince of the province of Cayor, a grant on his estates, and we were to take possession of it after the rainy season; but Heaven had decided otherwise.

From this time, my father, always indignant at the manner in which the governor had acted towards us, resolved to retire altogether to his island, and to have as little intercourse with the Europeans of the colony as he could. Nevertheless, he received with pleasure the friends who from time to time came to visit us, and who sometimes carried him to St Louis, where they disputed among themselves the pleasure of entertaining him, and of making him forget his misfortunes by the favours which they heaped upon him; but the mortifications he had experienced in that town made him always impatient till he returned to his island. One day as he returned from Senegal, after having spent two days at the house of his friends, they lent him a negro mason to build an oven for us; for till then we had always baked our bread upon the embers. With this oven we were no longer obliged to eat our millet-bread with the cinders which so plenteously stuck to it.

One morning, as he was preparing to take the negroes to their labour, he perceived his dog did not follow him as usual. He called, but in vain. Then he thought his faithful companion had crossed the river to Babaguey, as he used to do sometimes. Arrived at the cotton-field, my father remarked large foot-prints upon the sand, which seemed to be those of a tiger, and beside them several drops of blood, and doubted not that his poor Sultan had been devoured. He immediately returned to the cottage to acquaint us with the fate of his dog, which we greatly regretted. From that day the children were prohibited from going any distance from home; my sister and myself durst no more walk among the woods as we used to do.

Four days after the loss of the faithful Sultan, as we were going to bed, we heard behind our cottage mewings like those of a cat, but much louder. My father instantly rose, and, in spite of our entreaties and fears, went out armed with his sword and gun, in the hope of meeting with the animal whose frightful cries had filled us with dread; but the ferocious beast, having heard a noise near the little hill where it was, made a leap over his head, and disappeared in the woods. He returned, a little frightened at the boldness and agility of the creature, and gave up the pursuit till the following night. On the evening of the following day, he caused some negroes to come from the island of Babaguey, whom he joined with his own, and putting himself at their head, he thought he would soon return with the skin of the tiger. But the carnivorous animal did not appear during all that night; he contented himself with uttering dismal howlings in the midst of the woods. My father being called to Senegal by some of his friends, left us on the morrow. Before going, he strictly enjoined us to keep fast the doors of the house, and to secure ourselves against ferocious beasts. At night we barricadoed every avenue to our cottage, and shut up the dog with us, which a friend of my father had brought to him from the town to supply the place of that which we had lost. But my sister and myself were but ill at ease; for our huts being already decayed, we were afraid the tiger would get in, and devour the successor of poor Sultan. However, Etienne came and quieted our fears a little, by saying he would make the round of the huts during the night. We then lay down, having left our lamp burning. Towards the middle of the night, I was awoke by a hollow noise which issued from the extremity of our large chamber. I listened attentively; and the noise increasing, I heard our dog growling and also a kind of roaring like that of a lion. Seized with the greatest terror, I awoke my sister Caroline, who, as well as myself, thought a ferocious beast had got into the cottage. In an instant our dog raised the most terrible barking; the other animal replied by a hollow, but hideous growl. All this uproar passed in my father's chamber. Our minds were paralyzed; the children awoke, and came and precipitated themselves into our arms; but none durst call Etienne to our assistance. At last my sister and myself decided we should go and see what occasioned all this noise. Caroline took the lamp in one hand, and a stick in the other, and I armed myself with a long lance. Arrived at the middle of the large cottage, we discovered at the end of my father's study our dog, who had seized a large animal covered with yellowish hair. The fears which perplexed us left us no doubt but that it was either a lion or at least a tiger. We durst neither advance nor retreat, and our weapons fell from our hands. In a moment these two furious creatures darted into the hut where we were; the air was rent with their cries; our legs bent under us; we fell upon the floor in a faint; the lamp was extinguished, and we believed we were devoured. Etienne at length awoke, knocked at the door, then burst it open, ran up to us, lighted the lamp, and showed us our mistake. The supposed lion was nothing else than a large dog from the island of Babaguey, fighting with ours. Etienne separated them with a stick; and the furious animal, which had frightened us so much, escaped through the same hole by which he had entered our house. We stopped up the opening and retired to bed, but were not able to sleep. My father having arrived next morning from Senegal, we recounted to him the fright we had during the night, and he instantly set about repairing the walls of our cottage.

It was now the beginning of May; our cotton harvest was completely finished, but it was not so productive as we had hoped. The rains had not been abundant the preceding year, which caused the deficiency in our crop. We now became more economical than ever, to be able to pass the bad season which had set in. We now lived entirely on the food of the negroes; we also put on clothing more suitable to our situation than that we had hitherto worn. A piece of coarse cotton, wrought by the negroes, served to make us dresses, and clothes for the children; my father was habited in coarse blue silk. On purpose to ameliorate our condition, he sent on Sundays to Senegal a negro to purchase two or three loaves of white bread. It was, in our melancholy condition, the finest repast we could procure.

One Sunday evening, as all the family were seated round a large fire eating some small loaves which had been brought from Senegal, a negro from the main land gave my father a letter; it was from M. Renaud, Surgeon-Major at Bakal in Galam, announcing to us, to complete the sum of our misfortunes, that the merchandize he had sent to Galam the preceding year had been entirely consumed by fire. "Now," cried my unhappy father, "my ruin is complete! Nothing more wretched can touch us. You see, my dear children, that Fortune has not ceased persecuting us. We have nothing more to expect from her, since the only resource which remained has been destroyed."

This new misfortune, which we little expected, plunged all our family in the deepest distress. "What misfortunes! what mortifications!" cried I; "it is time to quit this land of wretchedness! Leave it then, return to France; there only we will be able to forget all our misfortunes. And you, cruel enemies of my father, whom we have to reproach for all the misery we have experienced in these lands, may you, in punishment for all the evil you have done us, be tortured with the keenest remorse!"

It cost all the philosophy of my father to quiet our minds after the fatal event. He comforted us by saying, that Heaven alone was just, and that it was our duty to rely upon it. Some days after, our friends from Senegal came to pay us a visit, and testified for us the greatest sorrow. They agreed among themselves to engage all the Europeans in the colony in a voluntary subscription in our behalf; but my father opposed it by saying, he could not receive assistance from those who were so truly his friends. The generous M. Dard, director of the French school, was not the last nor least who took an interest in us. As soon as he heard of the unfortunate news, he cordially offered my father all the money he had, and even endeavoured to get provisions for us from the government stores, but he failed. After the visit of my father's friends, we were not so unhappy, and yet enjoyed some tranquillity in our humble cottage. He bought a barrel of wine, and two of flour, to support us during the rainy season or winter, a period so fatal to Europeans who inhabit the torrid zone.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE PICARD FAMILY, TORMENTED BY THE MUSQUITOES, THE SERPENTS, AND TIGERS, DETERMINE TO REMOVE THEIR COTTAGE TO THE BANKS OF THE RIVER—THE POULTRY IS DISCOVERED BY THE WILD BEASTS—MISERABLE EXISTENCE OF THAT FAMILY—HUMILIATIONS WHICH IT SUFFERED—THEIR COTTAGE IS OVERTURNED BY A TEMPEST—THE LABOURING NEGROES FORM A SCHEME TO DESERT.

It was yet but about the beginning of June 1819, and already the humid winds of the south announced the approach of the bad season, or winter. The whirlwinds of the north no longer brought the hot sands of the Desert; but instead of them came the south-east, bringing clouds of locusts, musquitoes, and gnats. We could no longer spend our twilights at the cottage, it was so filled with these insects. We fled every morning to escape their stings, and did not return home till overcome with sleep. One night, on entering the hut, after a long day's work at the cotton-field, we perceived an animal stealing among the bushes at a soft slow pace; but having heard us, it leaped a very high hedge, and disappeared. From its agility, we discovered it to be a tiger-cat, which had been prowling about our poultry-yard, in the hope of catching some chickens, of which these animals are very fond. The same night, my sister and myself were awoke with a hollow noise which we heard near our bed. Our thoughts instantly returned to the tiger-cat; we believed that it was it we heard, and, springing up, we awoke my father. Being all three armed, we began by looking under my bed, as the noise seemed to proceed from the bottom of a large hole, deep under ground. We were then convinced it was caused by a serpent, but found it impossible to get at it. The song of this reptile so frightened us that we could sleep no longer; however, we soon became accustomed to its invisible music, for at short intervals we heard it all the night. Some time after the discovery of the den of this reptile songster, my sister, going to feed five or six pigeons which she had in a little hut, perceived a large serpent, who seemed to have a wing on each side of his mouth. She instantly called my father, who quickly ran to her with his gun, but the wings which the creature seemed to have, had already disappeared. As his belly was prodigiously swelled, my father made the negroes open it, and, to our great surprise, found four of the pigeons of our dove-cote. The serpent was nearly nine feet in length, and about nine inches in circumference in the middle. After it was skinned, we gave it to the negroes, who regaled themselves upon it. This was not the one, however, which we had heard during the night, for in the evening on which it was killed, we heard the whistlings of its companions. We then resolved to look for a more comfortable place to plant our cottage, and to abandon the rising ground to the serpents, and the woods to the tigers. We chose a spot on the south side of our island, pretty near to the banks of the river.

When this new ground was prepared, my father surrounded it with a hurdle of reeds, and then transported our cottage thither. This manner of removing from one place to another is very expeditious; in less than three days we were fairly seated in our new abode. However, as we had not time to carry away our poultry, we left them upon the hill till the place we had appropriated for them was completed. It was fenced on all sides, and covered with a large net, to prevent the birds of prey taking away our little chickens, and we had no fear in leaving them during the night. On the evening of the next day, my sister, accompanied with the children, went to feed the various inhabitants of the poultry-yard; but on approaching it she saw the frame of reeds half fallen, the net rent, and feathers scattered here and there upon the road. Having reached the site of our former cottage, heaps of worried ducks and chickens were the only objects which presented themselves. She instantly sent one of the children to acquaint us with the disaster, and my father and myself hastened to the scene of carnage, but it was too late to take any precautions,—all our poultry were destroyed! Two hens and a duck only had escaped the massacre, by having squatted in the bottom of an old barrel. We counted the dead which were left in the yard, and found that the ferocious beasts had eat the half; about two hundred eggs of ducks and hens, nearly hatched, were destroyed at the same time.

This was a great loss to us, especially as we counted as much upon our poultry-yard as upon our plantation. We were obliged to resign ourselves to our fate; for to what purpose would sorrow serve? The evil was done, and it only remained for us to guard against the recurrence of a like misfortune. The poultry-yard was instantly transported to our new habitation, and we took care to surround it with thorns, to keep off the wolves, the foxes, and the tigers. Our two hens and the duck were placed in it till we could purchase others.

Our new cottage was, as I have already said, situated on the banks of the river. A small wood of mangrove trees and acacias grew to the left, presenting a scene sufficiently agreeable. But the marshy wood sent forth such clouds of musquitoes, that, from the first day, we were so persecuted, as scarcely to be able to inhabit our cottage during the night. We were forced to betake ourselves to our canoe, and sail up and down the river; but we were not more sheltered from the stings of the insects than upon land. Sometimes, after a long course, we would return to the hut, where, in spite of the heat, we would envelop ourselves in thick woollen blankets, to pass the night; then, after being half suffocated, we would fill the house full of smoke, or go and plunge ourselves in the river.

I am bold to say, we were the most miserable creatures that ever existed on the face of the earth. The thought of passing all the bad season in this state of torture, made us regret a hundred times we had not perished in the shipwreck. How, thought I, how is it possible to endure the want of sleep, the stings of myriads of insects, the putrid exhalations of marshes, the heat of the climate, the smoke of our huts, the chagrin which consumes us, and the want of the most necessary articles of life, without being overcome! My father, however, to prevent us seeing the melancholy which weighed upon him, assumed a serene air, when his soul was a prey to the most horrible anguish; but through this pretended placidity it was easy to see the various sentiments by which his heart was affected. Often would that good man say to us, "My children, I am not unhappy, but I suffer to see you buried in the deserts. If I could gather a sufficient fund to convey you to France, I would at least have the satisfaction of thinking you there enjoyed life, and that your youth did not pass in these solitudes far from human society."—"How, my father," replied I to him, "how can you think we could be happy in France, when we knew you were in misery in Africa! O, afflict us not. You know, and we have said so a hundred times, that our sole desire is to remain near you, to assist you to bring up our young brothers and sisters, and to endeavour by our care to make them worthy of all your tenderness." The good man would then fold us in his arms; and the tears which trickled down his cheeks, for a while soothed his sufferings.

Often, to divert our thoughts from the misery we endured, would we read some of the works of our best authors. My father was usually on these occasions the reader, whilst Caroline and myself listened. Sometimes we would amuse ourselves with shooting the bow, and chasing the wild ducks and fowls which went about our house. In this manner we endeavoured to dissipate in part our ennui during the day. As our cottage was situated close to the banks of the river, we amused ourselves in fishing, whilst the heat and the musquitoes would permit us. Caroline and our young brothers were chiefly charged with fishing for crabs, and they always caught sufficient to afford supper to all the family. But sometimes we had to forego this evening's repast, for the musquitoes at that hour were in such prodigious numbers, that it was impossible to remain more than an instant in one place, unless we were enveloped in our coverings of wool. But the children not having so much sense, would not allow themselves to be thus suffocated; they could not rest in any place, and every instant their doleful groans forced our tears of pity. O cruel remembrance! thou makest me yet weep as I write these lines.

Towards the beginning of July, the rains showed us it was seed time. We began by sowing the cotton, then the fields of millet, maize, and beans. Early in the morning, the family went to work; some digged, others sowed, till the fierceness of the sun forced us to retire to the cottage, where we expected a plate of kouskous, of fish, and a little rest. At three o'clock, we all returned to the fields, and did not leave off working till the approach of night; then we all went home, and each occupied himself in fishing or hunting. Whilst we were thus busied in providing our supper, and provisions for the morrow, we sometimes would receive a visit from the sportsmen who were returning to Senegal. Some would feel for our misery, but many made us weep with their vulgar affronts. On these occasions, Caroline and myself would fly from these disgusting beings as from the wild beasts who prowled about us. Sometimes, to make us forget the insults and mortifications we experienced from the negro merchants who live at Senegal, and whom curiosity brought to our island, my father would say to us, "Wherefore, my dears, are you distressed with the impertinences of these beings? Only think that, in spite of your wretchedness, you are a hundred times better than them, who are nothing more than vile traffickers in human flesh, sons of soldiers, without manners, rich sailors, or freebooters, without education and without country."

One day, a French negro merchant, whom I will not name, having crossed the Senegal to the station of Babaguey, and seeing our cottage in the distance, inquired to whom it belonged. He was told it was the father of a family whom misfortune had forced to seek a refuge in that island. I wish I could see them, said the merchant, it will be very drôle. In fact, a short while after, we had a visit from this curieux, who, after he had said all manner of impertinences to us, went to hunt in our plantation, where he killed the only duck which we had left, and which he had the audacity to carry away in spite of our entreaties. Fortunately for the insolent thief, my father was absent, else he would have avenged the death of the duck, which even the tigers had spared in the massacre of our poultry-yard.

Since the commencement of winter, we had had but little rain, when one night we were roused by a loud peal of thunder. A horrible tempest swept over us, and the hurricane bent the trees of the fields. The lightning tore up the ground, the sound of the thunder redoubled, and torrents of water were precipitated upon our cottage. The winds roared with the utmost fury, our roofs were swept away, our huts were blown down, and all the waters of heaven rushed in upon us. A flood penetrated our habitation; all our family drenched, confounded, sought refuge under the wrecks of our walls of straw and reeds. All our effects were floating, and hurried off by the floods which surrounded us. The whole heavens were in a blaze; the thunderbolt burst, fell, and burned the main-mast of the French brig Nantaise, which was anchored at a little distance from our island. After this horrible detonation, calm was insensibly restored, whilst the hissing of serpents and howlings of the wild beasts were the only sounds heard around us. The insects and reptiles, creeping out of the earth, dispersed themselves through all the places of our cottage which water had not covered. Large beetles went buzzing on all sides, and attached themselves to our clothes, whilst the millepedes, lizards, and crabs of an immense size, crawled over the wrecks of our huts. At last, about ten o'clock, nature resumed her tranquillity, the thunder ceased to be heard, the winds instantly fell, and the air remained calm and dull.

After the tempest had ceased, we endeavoured to mend our huts a little, but we could not effect it; and were obliged to remain all day under the wrecks of our cottage. Such, however, was the manner in which we spent nearly all our days and nights. In reading this recital, the reader has but a feeble idea of the privations, the sufferings, and the evils, to which the unfortunate Picard family were exposed during their stay in the island of Safal.

About this time, my father was obliged to go to Senegal. During his absence, the children discovered that the negroes who remained with us had formed a scheme of deserting during the night. Caroline and myself were much embarrassed and undecided what course to pursue, to prevent their escape; at last, having well considered the matter, we thought, as Etienne would be in the plot, we had no other means of preventing their escape but by each of us arming ourselves with a pistol, and thus passing the night in watching them. We bound our canoe firmly with a chain, and seated ourselves, the better to observe their motions. About nine in the evening, the two negroes came to the banks of the river, but having discovered us, they feigned to fish, really holding in their hands a small line; but on coming nearer to them, I saw they had no hooks. I desired them to go to bed, and return on the morrow to fish. One of them came close to our canoe, and threw himself into it, thinking he could instantly put off; but when he found it chained, he left it quite ashamed, and went and lay down with his comrade. I set off to look for Etienne, whom we suspected to have been in the plot, and told him of the design of the two negroes, and prayed him to assist us in watching them during the night. He instantly rose, and taking my father's gun, bade us sleep in quiet, whilst he alone would be sufficient to overcome them; however, they made no farther attempt that night, hoping, doubtless, to be more fortunate another time. Next day I wrote to my father, to return to Safal before night, for that we were on the eve of losing the remainder of our negroes. He returned in the evening, resolving never again to quit our cottage. He interrogated the negroes concerning their design of desertion, and asked them what excuse they had to plead. "We are comfortable here," replied one of them, "but we are not in our native country; our parents and friends are far from us. We have been deprived of our liberty, and we have made, and will make still farther efforts, for its recovery." He added, addressing himself to my father, "If thou, Picard, my master, wert arrested when cultivating thy fields, and carried far, far from thy family, wouldst thou not endeavour to rejoin them, and recover thy liberty?" My father promptly replied, "I would!" "Very well," continued Nakamou, "I am in the same situation as thyself, I am the father of a numerous family; I have yet a mother, some uncles; I love my wife, my children; and dost thou think it wonderful I should wish to rejoin them?" My unfortunate father, melted to tears with this speech, resolved to send them to the person from whom he had hired them, for fear he should lose them. If he had thought like the colonists, he would have put them in irons, and treated them like rebels; but he was too kind-hearted to resort to such measures. Some days after, the person to whom the negroes were sent, brought us two others; but they were so indolent, we found it impossible to make them work.

CHAPTER XV.

THE COLONY OF SENEGAL AT WAR WITH THE MOORS—THE PICARD FAMILY OBLIGED TO ABANDON THE ISLAND OF SAFAL—THEY GO TO FIND A HOME AT ST LOUIS—M. PICARD HIRES AN APARTMENT FOR HIS FAMILY, AND RETURNS TO SAFAL WITH THE OLDEST OF HIS SONS—THE WHOLE UNFORTUNATE FAMILY FALL SICK—RETURN OF M. PICARD TO SENEGAL—DEATH OF YOUNG LAURA—HE WISHES TO RETURN TO HIS ISLAND—THE CHILDREN OPPOSE IT—HE FALLS DANGEROUSLY ILL—THE WORTHY PEOPLE OF THE COLONY ARE INDIGNANT AT THE GOVERNOR FOR THE STATE OF MISERY IN WHICH HE HAS LEFT THE PICARD FAMILY.

We however continued sowing; and more than twenty-four thousand feet of cotton had already been added to the plantation, when our labours were stopped by war suddenly breaking out between the colony and the Moors. We learned that a part of their troops were in the island of Bokos, situated but a short distance from our own. It was said that the Arab merchants and the Marabouts, (priests of the Musulmen), who usually travel to Senegal on affairs of commerce, had been arrested by the French soldiers. In the fear that the Moors would come to our island and make us prisoners, we resolved to go to the head-quarters of the colony, and stay there till the war had ceased. My father caused all his effects to be transported to the house of the resident at Babaguey, after which we left our cottage and the island of Safal. Whilst Etienne slowly rowed the canoe which contained our family, I ran my eye over the places we were leaving, as if wishing them an eternal adieu. In contemplating our poor cottage, which we had built with such difficulty, I could not suppress my tears. All our plantations, thought I, will be ravaged during our absence; our home will be burned; and we will lose in an instant that which cost us two years of pain and fatigue. I was diverted from these reflections by our canoe striking against the shore of Babaguey. We landed there, and instantly set off to the residence of M. Lerouge; but he was already at Senegal. We found his house filled with soldiers, which the governor had sent to defend that position against the Moors. My father then borrowed a little shallop to take us to Senegal. Whilst the boat was preparing, we eat a morsel of millet-bread I had had the precaution to make before we left Safal; at last, at six in the evening, we embarked for St Louis, leaving our negroes at Babaguey. My father promised to Etienne to go and rejoin him to continue the work, if it was possible, as soon as we were in safety.

It was very late before we reached Senegal. As we had no lodgings, a friend of my father, (M. Thomas) admitted us, his worthy wife loading us with kindness. During our stay in the island of Safal, my father had made various trips to Senegal; but as my sister and myself had not quitted it for a long time, we found ourselves in another world. The isolated manner in which we had lived, and the misfortunes we had endured, contributed in no small degree to give us a savage and embarrassed appearance. Caroline especially had become so timid, she could not be persuaded to appear in company. It is true the nakedness to which we were reduced, a good deal caused the repugnance we felt at seeing company. Having no cap but our hair, no clothes but a half-worn robe of coarse silk, without stockings and shoes, we felt very distressed in appearing thus habited before a society among whom we had formerly held a certain rank. The good lady Thomas seeing our embarrassment, kindly dispensed with our appearance at table, as they had strangers in the house. She caused supper to be brought to our chamber, under the pretext that we were indisposed. In this manner we escaped the curious and imprudent regards of various young people, who had not yet been tutored by the hand of misfortune. We learned that we were known at Senegal by different names, some calling us The Hermits of the Isle of Safal, others The Exiles in Africa.

On the morrow, my father hired an apartment in the house of one of his old friends (M. Valentin.) After breakfast we thanked our hosts, and went to our new lodging. It consisted of a large chamber, the windows of which were under ground, filled with broken panes; thus, in the first night, we had such a quantity of musquitoes, that we thought we were yet in the island of Safal. On the following day, my father was desirous of returning to his plantation. We in vain represented to him the dangers to which he exposed himself; nothing would divert him from his design. He promised, however, to go to Safal only during the day, and to sleep at the house of the resident at Babaguey. He told us that it was not the war with the Moors alone which caused him to bring us to Senegal, but also the state of suffering in which the whole family was. It is true our strength was considerably diminished; the youngest of my brothers had been for several days attacked with a strong fever; and we were all slightly seized with the same disease. My father, taking our oldest brother with him, left us for the isle of Safal, promising to come and see us every Sunday. I went with him to the court-gate, conjuring him, above all things, not to expose himself, and to take care of his health, which was so precious to us. That worthy man embraced me, and bade me fear nothing on that head, for he too well felt how necessary his life was to his children, to expose it imprudently. "For my health," added he, "I hope to preserve it long, unless Heaven has decided otherwise." With these words he bid adieu, and went away; I returned to the house and gave free vent to my tears. I know not what presentiment then seized me, for I felt as if I had seen my father for the last time; and it was only at the end of the third day, on receiving a letter written with his own hand, that I could divest myself of these gloomy ideas. He told us he was very well, and that all was quiet at Safal. On the same day I wrote to inform him of the condition of our young brother, who was a little better during the evening; I sent him at the same time some loaves of new bread and three bottles of wine which a generous person had had the goodness to give us. On the following Sunday we sat waiting his arrival, but a frightful tempest that raged during all the day, deprived us of that pleasure; we, however, received accounts from him every two days, which were always satisfactory.

About the 1st of August 1819, the best friend of my father, M. Dard, who, from the commencement of our misfortunes, had not withheld his helping hand from us, came to announce his approaching departure for France, and to bid us farewell. We congratulated him on the happiness of leaving so melancholy a place as Senegal. After we had talked some time about our unfortunate situation, and of the little hope we had of ever getting out of it, that sensible man, feeling his tears beginning to flow, took leave of us, promising to visit my father in passing Babaguey. Some days after, our young sister became dangerously ill; the fever attacked me also; and in less than forty-eight hours all our family were seized with the same disease. Caroline, however, had still sufficient strength to take care of us; and, but for her assistance, we would all perhaps have become a prey to the malady which oppressed us. That good sister durst not acquaint my father with the deplorable condition in which we all were; but alas! she was soon obliged to tell him the melancholy news. I know not what passed during two days after my sister had written my father, having been seized with delirium. When the fit had somewhat abated, and I had recovered my senses a little, I began to recognise the people who were about me, and I saw my father weeping near my bed. His presence revived the little strength I had still left. I wished to speak, but my ideas were so confused that I could only articulate a few unconnected words. I then learned, that after my father was acquainted with our dangerous condition, he had hastened to Senegal with my oldest brother, who also had been attacked. My father seemed to be no better than we were; but to quiet our fears, he told us that he attributed his indisposition to a cold he had caught from sleeping on a bank of sand at Safal. We soon perceived that his disease was more of the mind than of the body. I often observed him thoughtful, with a wild and disquieted look. This good man, who had resisted with such courage all his indignities and misfortunes, wept like a child at the sight of his dying family.

Meanwhile the sickness increased every day in our family; my young sister was worst. Dr Quincey saw her, and prescribed every remedy he thought necessary to soothe her sufferings. During the middle of the night she complained of a great pain in her abdomen, but, after taking the medicine ordered her, she fell quiet, and we believed she was asleep. Caroline, who watched us during the night in spite of her weakness, took advantage of this supposed slumber to take a little repose. A short while after, wishing to see if little Laura still slept, she raised the quilt which covered her, and uttered a piercing shriek. I awoke, and heard her say in a tremulous voice, Alas! Laura is dead. Our weeping soon awoke our unhappy father. He rose, and, seeing the face of the dead child, cried in wild despair: "It is then all over; my cruel enemies have gained their victory! They have taken from me the bread which I earned with the sweat of my brow to support my children; they have sacrificed my family to their implacable hate; let them now come and enjoy the fruit of their malice with a sight of the victim they have immolated! let them come to satiate their fury with the scene of misery in which they have plunged us! O cruel S——, thy barbarous heart cannot be that of a Frenchman!" On uttering these words, he rushed out, and seated himself under a gallery which was at the door of the house in which we lived. He there remained a long while buried in profound meditation, during which time we could not get him to utter one word. At last, about six o'clock in the morning the physician came, and was surprised on hearing of the death of Laura; then went to my father, who seemed to be insensible to every thing around him, and inquired at him concerning his health. "I am very well," replied he, "and I am going to return to Safal; for I always find myself best there." The Doctor told him his own condition, as well as that of his family, would not allow him to leave Senegal; but he was inflexible. Seeing nothing would induce him to remain at St Louis, I arose, weak as I was, and went to search for a negro and a canoe to carry us to Safal. In the meanwhile a friend of ours took the charge of burying the body of my sister; but my father wished to inter it beside the others in his island, and determined to take it thither along with us. Not to have, however, such a melancholy sight before our eyes during our journey, I hired a second canoe to carry the corpse of poor Laura; and attaching it to the one in which we were, we took our young brothers in our arms and set off. Having arrived opposite the house possessed by M. Thomas, my father felt himself greatly indisposed. I profited by the circumstance, by getting him to go to the house of his friend; hoping we would persuade him against returning to Safal. He consented without difficulty; but we had scarcely entered the house, when he was again taken very ill. We instantly called a physician, who found in him the seeds of a most malignant fever. We laid him down, and all the family wept around his bed, whilst the canoe which carried the remains of our young sister proceeded to Safal. M. Thomas undertook to procure us a house more healthy than that we had quitted; but the condition of my father was such, that he found it impossible to walk, and we had to put him in a litter to take him to our new habitation. All the worthy people of Senegal could not contain their indignation against governor S——, whose inhuman conduct towards our family had been the principal cause of all our misfortunes. They went to his house, and boldly told him it was a shame for the Chief of the colony thus to allow an unfortunate family entirely to perish. M. S——, either touched with these reproaches, or at last being moved by more friendly feelings towards us, caused provisions secretly to be sent to our house. We received them under the persuasion they had been sent by some friend of my father; but having at last learned they had come from the governor, my father bid me return them to him. I did not know what to do, for a part of the provisions had already been consumed; and, besides, the distressed condition to which we were reduced, made me flatter myself with the thought, that the governor wished at last to make amends for the wrongs he had done us. But alas! his assistance was too late; the fatal moment was fast approaching when my father had to bend under the pressure of his intolerable sufferings.

CHAPTER XVI.

M. DARD, WHOM CONTRARY WINDS HAD DETAINED TEN DAYS IN THE PORT OF ST. LOUIS, COMES ON SHORE TO SEE M. PICARD—AGONY OF M. PICARD—HIS LAST WORDS—HIS DEATH—DESPAIR OF HIS CHILDREN—M. THOMAS KINDLY TAKES CHARGE OF PICARD'S FAMILY—THE ELDEST OF THE LADIES GOES AND MOURNS OVER THE GRAVE OF HER FATHER—HER RESIGNATION—M. DARD DISEMBARKS, AND ADOPTS THE WRECKS OF THE PICARD FAMILY—M. DARD MARRIES MISS PICARD, AND AT LAST RETURNS TO FRANCE.

The day after we had taken possession of our new abode, my father sent me to the Isle of Babaguey, to bring back the things which were left at the house of the Resident. As I found myself considerably better during the last few days, I hired a canoe and went, leaving the sick to the care of Caroline. I soon reached the place of my destination, and finished my business. I was upon the point of returning to Senegal, when a wish came into my head of seeing Safal. Having made two negroes take me to the other side of the river, I walked along the side of the plantation, then visited our cottage, which I found just as we had left it. At last I bent my steps towards the tomb of my step-mother, in which were deposited the remains of my little sister. I seated myself under the shrubs which shaded the place of their repose, and remained a long while wrapt in the most melancholy reflections. All the misfortunes we had experienced since our shipwreck, came across my mind, and I asked myself, how I had been able to endure them? I thought that, at this instant, a secret voice said to me, you will yet have greater to deplore. Terrified by this melancholy presentiment, I strove to rise, but my strength failing me, I fell on my knees upon the grave. After having addressed my prayers to the Eternal, I felt a little more tranquil; and, quitting this melancholy spot, old Etienne led me back to Babaguey, where my canoe waited for me. The heat was excessive; however, I endured it, rather than wait for the coolness of evening to return to my father. On my arrival at St Louis, I found him in a violent passion at a certain personage of the colony, who, without any regard to his condition, had said the most humiliating things to him. This scene had contributed, in no small degree, to aggravate his illness; for, on the evening of the same day, the fever returned, and a horrible delirium darkened all his faculties. We spent a terrible night, expecting every moment to be his last. The following day found little change in his condition, except a small glimmering of reason at intervals. In one of these moments, when we hoped he would recover his health, M. Dard, whom we thought already far from Senegal, entered our house. My father instantly recognised him, and, making him sit near to his bed, took his hand, and said, "My last hour is come; Heaven, to whose decrees I humbly submit, will soon remove me from this world; but one consolation remains with me,—the thought you will not abandon my children. I recommend to you my oldest daughter; you are dear to her, doubt not; would she were your wife, and that you were to her, as you have always been to me, a sincere friend!" On saying these words, he took my hands and pressed them to his burning lips. Tears suffocated my voice, but I pressed him tenderly in my arms; and as he saw I was extremely affected with his situation, he quickly said to me, "My daughter, I have need of rest." I instantly quitted him, and was joined by M. Dard, when we retired to another room, where we found Caroline and the good Mad. Thomas. This worthy friend seeing the deplorable condition to which we were reduced, endeavoured to console us, and to give us hope, saying, that having heard of my father's illness on board the brig Vigilant, in which he had embarked at the port of St Louis, he had obtained leave to come on shore, and to go and offer us some assistance; after which he left us, promising to return on the morrow.

Towards the middle of the night of the 15th August 1819, it struck me that my father wished to speak with me. I drew near to him, and seeing him pale and his eyes wild, I turned away my head to conceal the tears which I could not suppress; but having perceived my distress, he said to me in a mournful voice, "Why are you so much afflicted, my child? My last hour approaches, I cannot escape it; then summon all the strength of your soul to bear it with courage. My conscience is pure, I have nothing with which to reproach myself; I will die in peace if you promise to protect the children whom I will soon leave. Tell also to feeling hearts the long train of uninterrupted misfortunes which have assailed me; tell the abandoned condition in which we have lived; and tell at last, that in dying, I forgave my enemies all the evils they had made me as well as my family endure!" At these words I fell upon his bed, and cried yes, dear father, I promise to do all you require of me. I was yet speaking when Caroline entered the chamber, and throwing herself upon his bed, tenderly embraced him, whilst he held me by the hand. We gazed on one another in profound silence, which was only interrupted by our sighs. During this heart-rending scene, my father again said to me, "My good Charlotte, I thank you for all the care you have bestowed on me; I die, but I leave you to the protection of friends who will not abandon you. Never forget the obligations you already owe M. Dard. Heaven assist you. Farewell, I go before you to a better world." These words, pronounced with difficulty, were the last he uttered. He instantly became much convulsed. All the physicians of the colony were called, but the medicines they prescribed produced no effect. In this condition he remained more than six hours, during which time we stood suspended between hope and despair. O horrible night! night of sorrow and desolation! who can describe all which the unfortunate family of Picard suffered during thy terrible reign! But the fatal period approached; the physician who prescribed it went out; I followed, and, still seeking for some illusion in the misfortune which menaced us, I tremblingly interrogated him. The worthy man would not dissemble; he took me by the hand and said, my dear lady, the moment is arrived when you have need to arm yourself with courage; it is all over with M. Picard; you must submit to the will of God. These words were a thunderbolt to me. I instantly returned, bathed in tears; but alas! my father was no more.

Such an irreparable misfortune plunged us into a condition worse than death. Without ceasing, I besought them to put a period to my deplorable life. The friends about me used every endeavour to calm me, but my soul was in the depth of affliction, and their consolations reached it not. "O God!" cried I, "how is it possible thou canst yet let me live? Ought not the misery I feel to make me follow my father to the grave?" It was necessary to employ force to keep me from that plan of horror and dismay. Madame Thomas took us to her house, whilst our friends prepared the funeral of my unhappy father. I remained insensible for a long while; and, when somewhat recovered, my first care was to pray the people with whom we lived to carry the body of my father to the Isle of Safal to be deposited, agreeably to his request, near the remains of his wife. Our friends accompanied it. Some hours after the departure of the funeral procession, Governor S——, doubtless reproaching himself with the helpless condition in which we had been left for so long a time, gave orders to take care of the remainder of our unfortunate family. He himself came to the house of M. Thomas. His presence made such an impression on me, that I swooned away. We did not, however, refuse the assistance he offered us, convinced, as we were, that it was less to the governor of Senegal we were indebted than to the French government, whose intentions he was only fulfilling.

Several days passed before I could moderate my sorrow; but at last our friends represented to me the duties I owed to the orphans who were left with us, and to whom I had promised to hold the place of mother. Then rousing myself from my lethargy, and recollecting the obligations I had to fulfil, I bestowed all my affections on the innocent beings whom my father had confided to me in his dying moments. Nevertheless I was not at rest; the desire of seeing the place where reposed the mortal remains of my worthy father tormented me. They wished to dissuade me; but when they saw I had been frequently weeping in private, they no longer withheld me. I went alone to Safal, leaving Caroline to take charge of the children, two of whom were still in a dangerous condition. What changes did I find at our cottage! The person from whom we had hired our negroes had secretly removed them; rank weeds sprung up everywhere; the cotton withered for want of cultivation; the fields of millet, maize, and beans had been devoured by the herds of cattle from the colony; our house was half plundered; the books and papers of my father taken away. Old Etienne still remained; I found him cultivating cotton. As soon as he saw me he drew near; and having inquired if he wished to remain at the plantation, he replied, "I could stay here all my life; my good master is no more, but he is still here; I wish to work for the support of his children." I promised in my turn to take care of him during my stay in Africa. At last I bent my steps towards my father's grave. The shrubs which surrounded it were covered with the most beautiful verdure; their thorny branches hung over it as if to shield it from the rays of the sun. The silence which reigned around this solitary place was only interrupted by the songs of the birds, and the rustling of the foliage, agitated by a faint breeze. At the sight of this sacred retreat, I suddenly felt myself penetrated by a religious sentiment, and falling on my knees upon the grass, and resting my head upon the humid stone, remained a long while in deep meditation. Then starting up, I cried, "Dear manes of the best of fathers! I come not hither to disturb your repose; but I come to ask of Him who is omnipotent, resignation to his august decrees. I come to promise also to the worthy author of my existence, to give all my care to the orphans whom he has left on earth. I also promise to make known to feeling hearts all the misfortunes he experienced before being driven to the tomb." After a short prayer, I arose and returned to the cottage. To consecrate a monument to the memory of my father, I took two cocoa-nuts, which he had planted some time previous to his death, and replanted them beside the grave; I then gave my orders to Etienne, and returned to the family at Senegal.

Next day M. Dard came to see us at the house of M. Thomas. This worthy friend of my father, told us he would not abandon in Senegal the orphans whom he had promised to assist. I come, added he, to return to the governor the leave he had given me to pass six months in France, and I charge myself with providing for all your wants till I can convey you again to Paris. Such generous devotion affected me to tears; I thanked our worthy benefactor, and he went into Mad. Thomas's room. When he had gone, Mad. Thomas took me aside, and said, that M. Dard's intention was not only to adopt the wrecks of our family, but he wished also to offer me his hand as soon as our grief had subsided. This confidence, I own, displeased me not; for it was delightful for me to think that so excellent a man, who had already given us such substantial assistance in our distress, did not think himself degraded by uniting his fate with that of a poor orphan. I recollected what my father had said to me during one of our greatest misfortunes. "M. Dard," said that worthy man, "is an estimable youth, whose attachment for us has never diminished in spite of our wretchedness; and I am certain he prefers virtue in a wife above all other riches."

Some days after, our benefactor came to tell us he had disembarked all his effects, and that he had resumed his functions as director of the French school at Senegal. We talked a long while together concerning my father's affairs, and he then left us. However, as one of my brothers was very ill, he returned in the evening to see how he was. He found us in tears; for the innocent creature had expired in my arms. M. Dard and M. Thomas instantly buried him, for his body had already become putrid. We took great care to conceal his death from his brother, who, having a mind superior to his age, would doubtless have been greatly affected. Nevertheless, on the following day, poor Charles inquired where his brother Gustavus was; M. Dard, who was sitting near his bed, told him he was at school; but he discovered the cheat, and cried, weeping, that he wished a hat to go to school, and see if Gustavus was really living. M. Dard had the kindness to go and purchase him one to quiet him, which, when he saw, he was satisfied, and waited till the morrow to go and see if his brother was at school. This young victim to misery dragged out his melancholy existence during two months; and about the end of October we had the misfortune of losing him also.

This last blow plunged me into a gloomy melancholy. I was indifferent to every thing. I had seen, in three months, nearly all my relations die. A young orphan (Alphonso Fleury), our cousin, aged five years, to whom my father was tutor, and whom he had always considered as his own child, my sister Caroline, and myself, were all that remained of the unfortunate Picard family, who, on setting out for Africa, consisted of nine. We, too, had nearly followed our dear parents to the grave. Our friends, however, by their great care and attention, got us by degrees to recover our composure, and chased from our thoughts the cruel recollections which afflicted us. We recovered our tranquillity, and dared at last to cherish the hope of seeing more fortunate days. That hope was not delusive. Our benefactor, M. Dard, since then having become my husband, gathered together the wrecks of our wretched family, and has proved himself worthy of being a father to us. My sister Caroline afterwards married M. Richard, agricultural botanist, attached to the agricultural establishment of the colony.

Leaving Senegal with my husband and the young Alphonso Fleury, my cousin, on board his Majesty's ship Ménagere, on the 18th November 1820, we safely arrived at L'Orient on the 31st December following. A few days after our landing, we went to Paris, where we remained two months. At last we reached my husband's native place, at Bligny-sous-Beaune, in the department of the Côte d'Or, where I have had the happiness of finding new relations whose tender friendship consoles me in part for the loss of those of whom cruel death deprived me in Africa.

APPENDIX.

The following is the substance, abridged from MM. Corréard and Savigny, of what took place on the Raft during thirteen days before the Sufferers were taken up by the Argus Brig.

After the boats had disappeared, the consternation became extreme. All the horrors of thirst and famine passed before our imaginations; besides, we had to contend with a treacherous element, which already covered the half of our bodies. The deep stupor of the soldiers and sailors instantly changed to despair. All saw their inevitable destruction, and expressed by their moans the dark thoughts which brooded in their minds. Our words were at first unavailing to quiet their fears, which we participated with them, but which a greater strength of mind enabled us to dissemble. At last, an unmoved countenance, and our proffered consolations, quieted them by degrees, but could not entirely dissipate the terror with which they were seized.

When tranquillity was a little restored, we began to search about the raft for the charts, the compass, and the anchor, which we presumed had been placed upon it, after what we had been told at the time of quitting the frigate.[14] These things, of the first importance, had not been placed upon our machine. Above all, the want of a compass the most alarmed us, and we gave vent to our rage and vengeance. M. Corréard then remembered he had seen one in the hands of one of the principal workmen under his command; he spoke to the man, who replied, "Yes, yes, I have it with me." This information transported us with joy, and we believed that our safety depended upon this futile resource: it was about the size of a crown-piece, and very incorrect. Those who have not been in situations in which their existence was exposed to extreme peril, can have but a faint knowledge of the price one attaches then to the simplest objects—with what avidity one seizes the slightest means capable of mitigating the rigour of that fate against which they contend. The compass was given to the commander of the raft, but an accident deprived us of it forever: it fell, and disappeared between the pieces of wood which formed our machine. We had kept it but a few hours, and, after its loss, had nothing now to guide us but the rising and setting of the sun.

[14] M. Corréard, fearing that on the event of their being separated from the boats by any unforeseen accident, called from the raft to an officer on board the frigate, "Are we in a condition to take the route?—have we instruments and charts?" got the following reply: "Yes, yes, I have provided for you every necessary." M. Corréard again called to him, "Who was to be their commander?" when the same officer said, "'Tis I; I will be with you in an instant;" but he instantly went and seated himself in one of the boats!—Trans.

We had all gone afloat without taking any food. Hunger beginning to be imperiously felt, we mixed our paste of sea-biscuit[15] with a little wine, and distributed it thus prepared. Such was our first meal, and the best we had, during our stay upon the raft.

[15] The biscuit had fallen into the sea, and was with difficulty recovered.—Trans.

An order, according to our numbers, was established for the distribution of our miserable provisions. The ration of wine was fixed at three quarters a-day.[16] We will speak no more of the biscuit, it having been entirely consumed at the first distribution. The day passed away sufficiently tranquil. We talked of the means by which we would save ourselves; we spoke of it as a certain circumstance, which reanimated our courage; and we sustained that of the soldiers, by cherishing in them the hope of being able, in a short while, to revenge themselves on those who had so basely abandoned us. This hope of vengeance, it must be avowed, equally animated us all; and we poured out a thousand imprecations against those who had left us a prey to so much misery and danger.

[16] The original French is trois quarts, which certainly cannot mean three quarts. In all probability it is three pints.—Trans.