CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
The air no more was vital now, But did a mortal poison grow. The lungs, which used to fan the heart, Served only now to fire each part; What should refresh, increased the smart. And now their very breath, The chiefest sign of life, became the cause of death! SPRAT, BISHOP OF ROCHESTER.
The _Aspasia_ did not drop her anchor in Carlisle Bay until three weeksafter the arrival of the frigate which brought up Courtenay and theprize crew; but she had not been idle, having three valuable prizes,which she had captured in company. Courtenay immediately repaired onboard of his ship, to report to Captain M--- the circumstances which hadoccurred connected with the loss of his five men. He was too honourableto attempt to disguise or palliate the facts: on the contrary, he laidall the blame upon himself; and enhanced the merits of the twomidshipmen. Captain M---, who admired his ingenuous confession,contented himself with observing that he trusted it would be a cautionto him during his future career in the service. To Seymour and Jerry hesaid nothing, as he was afraid that the latter would presume uponcommendation; but he treasured up their conduct in his memory, anddetermined to lose no opportunity that might offer to reward them.Courtenay descended to the gun-room, where he was warmly greeted by hismessmates, who crowded round him to listen to his detail of the attemptto recapture.
"Well," observed Price, "it appears we have had a narrow chance oflosing a messmate."
"Narrow chance lose two, sar," replied Billy Pitts; "you forgit, sar, Ion board schooner!"
"Oh, Billy, are you there? How does the dictionary come on?"
"Come on well, sar; I make a _corundum_ on Massa Doctor, when on boardschooner."
"Made a what?--a corundum! What can that be?"
"It ought to be something devilish hard," observed Courtenay.
"Yes, sar, debblish hard find out. Now, sar,--Why Massa Macallan like ageneral?"
"I'm sure I can't tell. We give it up, Billy."
"Then, sar, I tell you. Because he _'feelossifer_."
"Bravo, Billy!--Why, you'll write a book soon. By the bye, Macallan, Imust not forget to thank you for the loan of that gentleman: he has madehimself very useful, and behaved very well."
"Really, Massa Courtenay, I tought I not give you satisfaction."
"Why so, Billy?"
"Because, sar, you never give me present--not one dollar."
"He has you there," said Price; "you must fork out."
"Not a rap--the nigger had perquisites. I saw the English merchantsgive him a handful of dollars, before they left the vessel."
"Ah! they real gentlemen, Massa Capon and Massa --- dam um name--Iforgot."
"And what am I, then, you black thief?"
"Oh! you, sar, you very fine officer," replied Billy, quitting thegun-room.
Courtenay did not exactly like the answer--but there was nothing to layhold of. As usual, when displeased, he referred to his snuff-box,muttering something, in which the word "annoying" could only bedistinguished.
The breeze from the windsail blew some of the snuff out of the box intothe eyes of Macallan.
"I wish to Heaven you would be more careful, Courtenay," cried thesurgeon, in an angry tone, and stamping with the pain.
"I really beg your pardon," replied Courtenay, "snuffing's a vilehabit,--I wish I could leave it off."
"So do your messmates," replied the surgeon: "I cannot imagine whatpleasure there can be in a practice in itself so nasty, independent ofthe destruction of the olfactory powers."
"It's exactly for that reason that I take snuff; I am convinced that Iam a gainer by the loss of the power of smell."
"I consider it ungrateful, if not wicked, to say so," replied thesurgeon, gravely. "The senses were given to us as a source ofenjoyment."
"True, doctor," answered Courtenay, mimicking the language of Macallan;"and if I were a savage in the woods, there could not be a sense morevaluable, or affording so much gratification, as the one in question. Ishould rise with the sun, and inhale the fragrance of the shrubs andflowers, offered up in grateful incense to their Creator, and I shouldstretch myself under the branches of the forest tree, as evening closed,and enjoy the faint perfume with which they wooed the descendingmoisture after exhaustion from the solar heat. But in civilisedsociety, where men and things are packed too closely together, the caseis widely different: for one pleasant, you encounter twenty offensivesmells; and of all the localities for villainous compounds, a ship isindubitably the worst. I therefore patronise `'baccy,' which, Ipresume, was intended for our use, or it would not have been created."
"But not for our abuse."
"Ah! there's the rock that we all split upon--and I, with others, mustplead guilty. The greatest difficulty in this world is, to know whenand where to stop. Even a philosopher like yourself cannot do it. Youallow your hypothesis to whirl in your brain, until it forms a vortexwhich swallows up everything that comes within its influence. A modernphilosopher, with his hypothesis, is like a man possessed with a devilin times of yore; and it is not to be cast out by any human means, thatI know of."
"As you please," replied Macallan, laughing; "I only deprecated a badhabit."
"An hypothesis is only a habit,--a habit of looking through a glass ofone peculiar colour, which imparts its hue to all around it. We are butcreatures of habit. Luxury is nothing more than contracting freshhabits, and having the means of administering to them--_ergo_, doctor,the more habits you have to gratify, the more luxuries you possess. Youluxuriate in the contemplation of nature--Price in quoting, or trying toquote, Shakespeare--Billy Pitts in his dictionary--I in my snuff-box;and surely we may all continue to enjoy our harmless propensities,without interfering with each other: although I must say, that thosestill-born quotations of our messmate Price are most tryingly annoying."
"And so is a pinch of snuff in the eye, I can assure you," repliedMacallan.
"Granted; but we must `give and take,' doctor."
"In the present case, I don't care how much you take, provided you don'tgive," rejoined Macallan, recovering his good humour.
A messenger from Captain M---, who desired to speak with Macallan, putan end to the conversation.
"Mr Macallan," said Captain M---, when the surgeon came into the cabinto receive his commands, "I am sorry to find, from letters which I havereceived, that the yellow fever is raging in the other islands in a mostalarming manner, and that it has been communicated to the squadron onthe station. I am sorry to add, that I have received a letter from thegovernor here, informing me that it has made its appearance at thebarracks. I am afraid that we have little chance of escaping so generala visitation. As it is impossible to put to sea, even if my orders werenot decisive to the contrary, are there not some precautions which oughtto be taken?"
"Certainly, sir. It will be prudent to fumigate the lower deck; it hasalready been so well ventilated and whitewashed, that nothing else canbe done; we must hope for the best."
"I do so," replied Captain M---; "but my hope is mingled with anxiousapprehensions, which I cannot control. We must do all we can, and leavethe rest to Providence."
The fears of Captain M--- were but too well grounded. For some days, nosymptoms of infection appeared on board of the _Aspasia_; but theravages on shore, among the troops, were to such an extent, that thehospitals were filled, and those who were carried in might truly be saidto have left hope behind. Rapid as was the mortality, it was still notrapid enough for the admittance of those who were attacked with thefatal disease; and as the bodies of fifteen or twenty were, eachsucceeding evening, borne unto the grave, the continual decrease of themilitary _cortege_ which attended the last obsequies, told the sad tale,that those who, but a day or two before, had followed the corpses ofothers, were now carried on their own biers.
Other vessels on the station, which had put to sea from the differentisles, with the disappointed expectation of avoiding the contagion, nowcame to an anchor in the bay, their crews so weakened by disease anddeath that
they could with difficulty send up sufficient men to furltheir sails. Boat after boat was sent on shore to the naval hospital,loaded with sufferers, until it became so crowded that no more could bereceived. Still the _Aspasia_, from the precautions which had beentaken, in fumigating, and avoiding all unnecessary contact with theshipping and the shore, had for nearly a fortnight escaped theinfection; but the miasma was at last wafted to the frigate, and in thecourse of one night fifteen men, who were in health the precedingevening, before eight o'clock on the following morning were lying intheir hammocks under the half-deck. Before the close of that day, thenumber of patients had increased to upwards of forty. The hospitalswere so crowded that Captain M--- agreed with Macallan that it would bebetter that the men should remain on board.
The frigate was anchored with springs on her cable, so as always to beable to warp her stern to the breeze; the cabin bulk-heads on themain-deck, and the thwart-ship bulk-heads below, were removed, and thestern windows and ports thrown open, to admit a freer circulation of airthan could have been obtained by riding with her head to the sullenbreeze, which hardly deigned to fan the scorching cheeks of the numerousand exhausted patients. The numbers on the list daily increased, untilevery part of the ship was occupied with their hammocks, and the surgeonand his assistants had scarcely time to relieve one by excessivebleeding, and consign him to his hammock, before another, staggering andfainting under the rapid disease, presented himself, with his arm bared,ready for the lancet. More blood was thrown into the stagnant water ofthe bay than would have sufficed to render ever verdant the laurels ofmany a well-fought action (for our laurels flourish not from the dew ofHeaven, but must be watered with a sanguine stream) and, alas! too soon,more bodies were consigned to the deep than would have been demandedfrom the frigate in the warmest proof of courage and perseverance in hercountry's cause.
It is a scene like this which appals the sailor's heart. It is not therange of hammocks on the main-deck, tenanted by pale forms, with theirbandages steeped in gore; for such is the chance of war, and the bloodhas flowed from hearts boiling with ardour and devotion. If not pastcure, the smiles and congratulations of their shipmates alleviate theanguish and fever of the wound: if past all medical relief; still thepassage from this transitory world is soothed by the affectionatesympathy of their messmates, by the promise to execute their lastwishes, by the knowledge that it was in their country's defence theynobly fell. 'Tis not the chance of wreck, or of being consigned,unshrouded, to the dark wave, by the treacherous leak, or overwhelmingfury of the storm. 'Tis not the "thought-executing fire." Every andall of these they are prepared and are resigned to meet, as ills towhich their devious track is heir. But when disease, in its mostloathsome form and implacable nature, makes its appearance--when wecontemplate, in perspective, our own fate in the unfortunate who isselected, like the struggling sheep, dragged from the hurdled crowd, tobe pierced by the knife of the butcher--when the horror of infectionbecomes so strong that we hold aloof from administering the kind officesof relief to our dearest friends; and, eventually prostrated ourselves,find the same regard for self pervades the rest, and that there is novoluntary attendance--then the sight of the expiring wretch, in his lasteffort, turning his head over the side of his hammock, and throwing offthe dreadful black vomit, harbinger of his doom--'tis horrible! toohorrible!
And the anxiety which we would in vain suppress--the reckless laugh ofsome, raised but to conceal their fear from human penetration--theintoxicating draught, poured down by others to dull the excited senses--the follies of years reviewed in one short minute--our life, how spent--how much to answer for!--a world how overvalued--a God how muchneglected!--the feeling that we ought to pray, the inclination thatpropels us to do so, checked by the mistaken yet indomitable pride whichputs the question to our manhood, "Will ye pray in fear, when yeneglected it in fancied security?" Down, stubborn knees! Pride is butfolly towards men--insanity towards God!
But why dwell upon such a scene? Let it suffice to state, that seventyof the _Aspasia's_ men fell victims to the baneful climate, and thatmany more, who did recover, were left in such a state of exhaustion, asto require their immediate return to their native shores. ExceptO'Keefe, the purser, all the officers whom I have introduced to thereader escaped. Three, from the midshipmen's berth, who had servedtheir time, and who for many months had been drinking the toast of "Abloody war and sickly season," fell a sacrifice to their own thoughtlessand selfish desire; and the clerk, who anticipated promotion when heheard that the purser was attacked, died before him.
When all was over, Jerry observed to Prose, "Well, Prose, `it's an illwind that blows nobody any good.' We have had not one single thrashingduring the sickness; but I suppose, now that their courage is returned,we must prepare for both principal and interest."
"Well now, Jerry, I do declare that's very likely, but I never thoughtof it before."
The large convoys of merchantmen that came out supplied the men thatwere required to man the disabled ships; and transports brought outcargoes from the depots to fill up the skeleton ranks of the differentcompanies. Among the various blessings left us in this life ofsuffering is forgetfulness of past evils; and the yellow fever was in ashort time no longer the theme of dread, or even of conversation.
"Well, Tom, what sort of a place is this here West Hinges?" inquired asoldier who had been just landed from a transport, of an oldacquaintance in the regiment, whom he encountered.
"Capital place, Bill," returned the other to his interrogation; "plentyto drink, and always a-dry."
But as I do not wish to swell my narrative, and have no doubt but thereader will be glad to leave this pestilential climate, I shall informhim, that for three years the _Aspasia_ continued on the station, dailyencountering the usual risks of battle, fire, and wreck; and that at theend of that period the health of Captain M--- was so much injured, bythe climate and his own exertions, that he requested permission to quitthe station.
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