As we lay waiting for our final orders, a report reached us that a large English brig of war, called the Nimrod, lay in a cove somewhere near Boston bay. Upon this information, our officers planned a night expedition for the purpose of effecting her capture. Our intended mode of attack was to run close alongside, pour a broadside upon her, and then, without further ceremony, board her, cutlass in hand. So we took in our powder, ground up our cutlasses, and towards night got under weigh. A change in the wind, however, defeated our designs, and we put into Salem harbor, with no other result than the freezing of a man’s fingers, which happened while we were furling our sails. Thus ended our first warlike expedition in the Siren.
Shortly after this affair, we received orders to start on a cruise to the coast of Africa, and, in company with the Grand Turk, a privateer, set sail from Salem. Passing the fort, we received the usual hail from the sentry, of “Brig ahoy! where are you bound to?”
To this salutation the first lieutenant jocosely answered, “There, and back again, on a man of war’s cruise.” Such a reply would not have satisfied a British soldier; but we shot past the fort unmolested. After two days we parted company with the Grand Turk, and by the aid of a fair wind soon found ourselves in the Gulf Stream; where, instead of fearing frozen fingers, we could go bare-footed and feel quite comfortable.
We now kept a sharp look-out at the mast-head, but met with nothing until we reached the Canary Islands, near which we saw a boat-load of Portuguese, who, coming alongside, talked in their native tongue with great noise and earnestness, but were no more intelligible to us than so many blackbirds.
While off the African coast, our captain died. His wasted body was placed in a coffin, with shot to sink it. After the service had been read, the plank on which the coffin rested was elevated, and it slipped into the great deep. The yards were braced round, and we were under weigh again, when, to our surprise and grief, we saw the coffin floating on the waves. The reason was, the carpenter had bored holes in the top and bottom; he should have made them only in the top.
After the funeral, the crew were called aft, and the first lieutenant, Mr. Nicholson, told us that it should be left to our decision whether he should assume the command and continue the cruise, or return home. We gave him three hearty cheers, in token of our wish to continue the cruise. He was a noble-minded man, very kind and civil to his crew; and the opposite, in every respect, to the haughty, lordly captain with whom I first sailed in the Macedonian. Seeing me one day with rather a poor hat on, he called me aft and presented me with one of his own, but little worn. “Good luck to him,” said I, in sailor phrase, as I returned to my messmates; “he has a soul to be saved.” We also lost two of our crew, who fell victims to the heat of the climate.
One morning the cry of “Sail ho!” directed our attention to a strange sail, which had hove to, with her courses hauled up. At first, we took her for a British man-of-war brig. The hands were summoned to quarters, and the ship got ready for action. A nearer approach, however, convinced us that the supposed enemy, was no other than our old friend, the Grand Turk. She did not appear to know us; for no sooner did she see that our craft was a brig of war, than, supposing us to belong to Johnny Bull, she crowded all her canvas, and made the best of her way off. Knowing what she was, we permitted her to escape without further alarm.
The first land we made was Cape Mount. The natives came off to a considerable distance in their canoes, clothed in nothing but a piece of cloth fastened round the waist, and extending downward to the feet. As we approached the shore, we saw several fires burning; this, we were told, in the broken English spoken by our sable visitors, was the signal for trade. We bought a quantity of oranges, limes, cocoanuts, tamarinds, plantains, yams and bananas. We likewise took in a quantity of cassava, a species of ground root, of which we made tolerable pudding and bread; also a few hogs and some water.
We lay here several days looking out for any English vessels that might come thither for purposes of trade.
Meanwhile, we began to experience the inconvenience of a hot climate. Our men were all covered with blotches or boils, probably occasioned by so sudden a transition from extreme cold to extreme heat. What was worse than this, was the want of a plentiful supply of water. In the absence of this, we were placed on an allowance of two quarts per diem, to each man. This occasioned us much suffering; for, after mixing our Indian for puddings, our cassava for bread, and our whisky for grog, we had but little left to assuage our burning thirst. Some, in their distress, drank large quantities of sea water, which only increased their thirst and made them sick; others sought relief in chewing lead, tea-leaves, or anything which would create moisture. Never did we feel more delighted than when our boat’s crew announced the discovery of a pool of fine clear water. We received it with greater satisfaction than ever prodigal did tidings of the death of some rich old relative, to whose well-laden purse he was undisputed heir. We could have joined in the most enthusiastic cold-water song ever sung by either hermit or Washingtonian.
While cruising along the coast, we one night perceived a large ship lying at anchor near the shore. We could not decide whether she was a large merchantman or a man of war; so we approached her with the utmost caution. Our doubts were soon removed, for she suddenly loosed all her sails and made chase after us. By the help of their glasses, our officers ascertained her to be an English frigate. Of course, it was folly to engage her; so we made all the sail we could carry, beat to quarters, lighted our matches, and lay down at our guns, expecting to be prisoners of war before morning. During the night we hung out false lights, and altered our course; this baffled our pursuer; in the morning she was no more to be seen.
The next sail we made was not so formidable. She was an English vessel at anchor in the Senegal river. We approached her and hailed. Her officer returned an insolent reply, which so exasperated our captain that he passed the word to fire into her, but recalled it almost immediately. The countermand was too late; for in a moment, everything being ready for action, we poured a whole broadside into our unfortunate foe. The current carried us away from the stranger. We attempted to beat up again, but our guns had roused the garrison in a fort which commanded the river; they began to blaze away at us in so expressive a manner, that we found it prudent to get a little beyond the reach of their shot, and patiently wait for daylight.
The next morning we saw our enemy hauled close in shore, under the protection of the fort, and filled with soldiers. At first, it was resolved to man the boats and cut her out; but this, after weighing the subject maturely, was pronounced to be too hazardous an experiment, and, notwithstanding our men begged to make the attempt, it was wisely abandoned. How many were killed by our hasty broadside, we never learned, but doubtless several poor fellows were hurried to a watery and unexpected grave, affording another illustration of the beauty of war. This affair our men humorously styled “the battle of Senegal.”
After visiting Cape Three Points, we shaped our course for St. Thomas. On our way, we lost a prize through a display of Yankee cunning in her commander. We had hoisted English colors; the officer in command of the stranger was pretty well versed in the secrets of false colors, and in return he ran up the American flag. The bait took: supposing her to be American, we showed the stars and stripes. This was all the merchantman desired. It told him what we were, and he made all possible sail for St. Thomas. We followed, crowding every stitch of canvas our brig could carry; we also got out our sweeps and swept her along, but in vain. The merchantman was the better sailer, and succeeded in reaching St. Thomas, which, being a neutral port, secured her safety. Her name was the Jane, of Liverpool. The next morning, another Liverpool merchantman got into the harbor, unseen by our look-out until she was under the protection of the laws of neutrality.
Our next business was to watch the mouth of the harbor, in the hope of catching them as they left port. But they were too cautious to run into danger, especially as they were expecting a convoy for their protection, which might make us glad to trust more to our canvas than to our cannon.
Shortly after this occurrence, we made another sail standing in towards St. Thomas. Hoisting English colors, our officers also donning the British uniform, we soon came near enough to hail her; for, not doubting that we were a British brig, the merchantman made no effort to escape us. Our captain hailed her, “Ship ahoy!”
“Halloa!”
“What ship is that?”
“The ship Barton.”
“Where do you belong?”
“To Liverpool.”
“What is your cargo?”
“Red-wood, palm oil and ivory.”
“Where are you bound to?”
“To St. Thomas.”
Just at that moment our English flag was hauled down, and, to the inexpressible annoyance of the officers of the Barton, the stars and stripes supplied its place.
“Haul down your colors!” continued Captain Nicholson.
The old captain, who, up to this moment, had been enjoying a comfortable nap in his very comfortable cabin, now came upon deck in his shirt sleeves, rubbing his eyes, and looking so exquisitely ridiculous, it was scarcely possible to avoid laughing. So surprised was he at the unexpected termination of his dreams, he could not command skill enough to strike his colors; which was accordingly done by the mate. As they had two or three guns aboard, and as some of the men looked as if they would like to fight, our captain told us, if they fired to not “leave enough of her to boil a tin pot with.” After this expressive and classical threat, we lowered our boats and took possession of this our first prize.
After taking out as much of her cargo as we desired, just at night we set her on fire. It was an imposing sight, to behold the antics of the flames, leaping from rope to rope, and from spar to spar, until she looked like a fiery cloud resting on the dark surface of the water. Presently, her spars began to fall, her masts went by the board, her loaded guns went off, the hull was burned to the water’s edge, and what, a few hours before, was a fine, trim ship,looking like a winged creature of the deep, lay a shapeless, charred mass, whose blackened outline, shadowed in the clear, still waves, looked like the grim spirit of war lurking for its prey.
This wanton destruction of property was in accordance with our instructions, “to sink, burn and destroy” whatever we took from the enemy. Such is the war-spirit! Sink, burn and destroy! how it sounds! Yet such are the instructions given by Christian (?) nations to their agents in time of war. What Christian will not pray for the destruction of such a spirit?
The crew of the Barton we carried into St. Thomas, and placed them on board the Jane, excepting a Portuguese and two colored men, who shipped among our crew. We also took with us a fine black spaniel dog, whom the men called by the name of Paddy. This done, we proceeded to watch for fresh victims, on which to wreak the vengeance of the war-spirit.
The next sail we met, was an English brig, called the Adventure; which had a whole menagerie of monkeys on board. We captured and burned her, just as we did the Barton. Her crew were also disposed of in the same manner. One of them, an African prince, who had acquired a tolerable education in England, and who was remarkably polite and sensible, shipped in the Siren. His name was Samuel Quaqua.
We now remained at St. Thomas several days, carrying on a petty trade with the natives. Our men bought all kinds of fruit, gold dust and birds. For these things, we gave them articles of clothing, tobacco, knives, &c. For an old vest, I obtained a large basket of oranges; for a hand of tobacco, five large cocoanuts: a profitable exchange on my side; since, although I drew my tobacco of the purser, I fortunately never acquired the habit of using it; a loss I never regretted. My cocoanuts were far more gratifying and valuable when we got to sea, parched with thirst, and suffering for water, than all the tobacco ............