Life and Adventures 1776-1801 (12 page)

While we lay here an engineer named William Balcarras went in a frigate to reconnoitre the French works. He landed and, having attained his object, was coming off in his boat when he was followed by another from the shore and shot dead before he reached the frigate.

We left Mamarice Bay and sailed to Rhodes, where we took in forage for the cavalry. We then sailed for Alexandria and landed the troops.

I belonged to one of the boats. Captain A. F. Cochrane was beach-master, and had the ordering of the troops in the landing. We began to leave the ships about twelve o’clock and reached the shore about
sunrise in the morning. We rowed very slow with our oars muffled. It was a pleasant night. The water was very still and all was as silent as death. No one spoke but each cast an anxious look to the shore, then at each other, impatient to land. Each boat carried about one hundred men and did not draw nine inches of water.

The French cavalry were ready to receive us, but we soon forced them back and landed eight thousand men the first morning. We had good sport at landing the troops as the Frenchmen made a stout resistance. We brought back the wounded men to the ships.

For some time we supplied the troops on shore with provisions and water. After the advance of the troops into the country I was with the seamen on shore, assisting at the siege of Alexandria and working like a labourer in cutting off the branch of the Nile that supplied the city with water. One of the
Ajax’s
boats, at Sir Ralph Abercromby’s request, carried him after receiving his wound, on board the hospital ship.

Of all the countries I was ever in, in all my wanderings, I could not remain in Egypt. The air is so dry and I felt so disagreeable. It is, on the whole, sandy and barren, yet what I saw of it that was cultivated is very agreeable. For some days before the town surrendered I had been so bad with the flux I was forced to go on board. After the town surrendered and the operations of the army ceased we sailed for Malta. At this time I was blind with the ophthalmia and continued thus for six weeks.

My sufferings were most acute. I could not lie down for a moment, for the scalding water that continually flowed from my eyes filled them and put me to exquisite torture. I sat constantly on my chest with a vessel of cold water bathing them. If I slept I awoke in an agony of pain. All the time the flux was most severe upon me and the surgeon would not dry it up, as it, he said, relieved my eyes. When we came to Malta a French surgeon cured me by touching the balls of my eyes with tincture of opium, but the pain of the application was very severe. Thank God, however, I soon after recovered my health and spirits.

From Malta we sailed to Gibraltar where we watered, then sailed for England where, to my joy, I found that peace was concluded. We were all paid off shortly after our arrival. I was ship’s corporal when I was discharged.

Author Arrives in Edinburgh—
Marries and Settles as a Cooper—
Forced to Leave his Business from
Danger of Impressment—Retires to
Cousland—Subsequent
Occurrences—Returns to Edinburgh
from Inability to Work at
Cousland—Failure of Prospects—
Present Situation.

I
WAS ONCE
more my own master, and felt so happy I was like one bewildered. Did those on shore only experience half the sensations of a sailor at perfect liberty after being seven years on board ship without a will of his own, they would not blame his eccentricities but wonder he was not more foolish.

After a few days my cooler reason began to resume its power and I began to think what should be my after pursuits. It was now seven years since I had been pressed from the
Nottingham.
In that time the thoughts of Sarah had faded into a distant pleasing dream. The violent desire I at one time felt to repossess her was now softened into a curiosity to know what had become of her.

As I was now possessed of a good deal of pay and prize-money due, when I received it I went down by Lincoln to make inquiry, but no one had heard of her since I was there myself, nine years before. So all my inquiries after her terminated and I proceeded to Scotland, determined to settle, as I was now too old to undertake any more love pilgrimages after an individual, as I knew not in what quarter of the globe she was or whether she was dead or alive.

I arrived in Edinburgh just twenty-five years after I had left it to wander over the globe. I had been only twice there, once at the end of the American war when I found my father dead and my brothers wanderers. After my return from the voyage with Captain Portlock I remained only a few days and just passed through the city. When in the
Edgar,
I never had been on shore.

I scarce knew a face in Edinburgh. It had doubled itself in my absence. I now wandered in elegant streets where I had left corn growing. Everything was new to me. I confess I felt more sincere pleasure and enjoyment in beholding the beauties of Edinburgh than ever I felt in any foreign clime, for I now could identify myself with them. I was a Scotchman and I felt as if they were my own property. In China, in Naples, in Rio de Janeiro or even in London I felt as a stranger, and I beheld with only the eye of curiosity.

Here I now looked on with the eye of a son who is witnessing the improvements of his father’s house. Little did I at this time think I should wander in these very streets to pick up a few coals to warm my aged limbs! But everything is wisely ordered by that Power who has protected me in dangers when I thought not of Him.

I felt myself, for a few weeks after my arrival, not so very happy. As I had anticipated, there was scarcely a friend I had left that I knew again. The old were dead, the young had grown up to manhood and many were in foreign climes. The Firth of Forth which in my youth appeared a sea to my inexperienced mind, Arthur Seat and the neighbouring hills, now seemed dwindled to insignificance in comparison to what I had witnessed in foreign parts. Because they were my native scenery I felt hurt that any other country should possess more imposing objects of their kind. But they were Scotch and I loved them still.

I could not settle to work but wandered up and
down. At length I fell in with a cousin of my own. We had been playfellows and a friendly intimacy had continued until I went to sea. I fixed my affections on her and we were married. I gave her my solemn promise never again to go to sea during her life. I then thought sincerely of settling and following my trade. I bought a house in the Castle Hill and furnished it well, then laid in a stock of wood and tools. I had as much work as I could do for a soap work at the Queensferry. For one year my prospects were as good as I could have wished, and I was as happy as ever I had been in my life.

But in a few months after the war broke out again and the press-gang came in quest of me.
⁷⁴
I could no longer remain in Edinburgh and avoid them. My wife was like a distracted woman and gave me no rest until I sold off my stock in trade and the greater part of my furniture and retired to the country. Even until I got this accomplished I dared not to sleep in my own house, as I had more than one call from the gang.

I went to Cousland, nine miles from Edinburgh in the parish of Cranstoun, and put up at one Robert Moodie’s, a small public house, not knowing what was to be my next pursuit. I could obtain no employment as a cooper unless I lived in a large or seaport town, and there I could not remain. I at length applied to Mr Dickson and got work from him at the lime quarries. My berth was to bore and charge the stones with
gunpowder to facilitate the work. I continued to live at Robert Moodie’s, my wife Margaret paying me an occasional visit, until I got a house of my own from Mr Dickson, when she came out to reside constantly with me.

I hoped that every month would put a period to the war and I would be allowed to return to Edinburgh. But peace still seemed to recede from Britain. Year after year I looked for it in vain. When the weather was good, night after night have I sat after my day’s labour by the old windmill in Bartholomew’s field, first gazing upon Edinburgh that I dared not reside in, then upon the vessels that glided along the Forth. A sigh would escape me at my present lot. My promise to Margaret kept me from them (my word has ever been my bond) or I should assuredly have gone to sea again. I was like a bird in a cage, with objects that I desired on every side but could not obtain.

The cultivation of the small garden attached to my cottage occupied my mind for some time. I was becoming a little more reconciled to my lot when the press-gang came out even to Cousland and took away a neighbour of the name of Murray. He had a large family and, through the interest of the minister and neighbouring gentlemen, he got off. His impressment was a great blow to my tranquillity for many months. For a long time I slept every night either in Dalkeith or Musselburgh, and during the day a stranger could not appear near the quarry without causing the most
disagreeable sensations to me. At length this cause of uneasiness wore off likewise, and I settled down to my usual calm expectations of peace—but year followed year and my prospects were unaltered.

I now began to see the great alterations that had taken place in the country from the time I had been in it, when a boy, about the year 1766. At that time I had resided for some time with my uncle at Edmonstone. The country was very little inclosed. The farmers lived with their servants. Now the country was inclosed and the farmers were gentlemen.
⁷⁵

At Dalkeith fair, when the crops were off the ground, it was called ‘long halter time’. The cattle during the fair got leave to stray at large while the farmers, their wives, daughters and servants were all at the fair, only one woman being left at home. Now the farmers, if they went to the fair, it was to sell or buy, not to make merry. Their wives and daughters would have thought themselves disgraced if they were seen at the fair. They no longer messed with their servants but lived like noblemen by themselves. If a servant had occasion to speak to his master, he must address him as if he had been an admiral—this to me appeared strange at first.

As Mr Dickson knew I was anxious for the news, he was so kind as give me a reading of the newspapers when he was done. The other workmen assembled in
my cottage on the evenings I got them and I read aloud. Then we would discuss the important parts together. The others were not friendly to the government, save one, an old soldier who had been in the East Indies. He and I always sided together. I had broke His Majesty’s bread for fourteen years and would not, upon that account, hear his government spoken against.

I had but poor help from the old soldier and I had them all to contend with, but when I was like to be run down I bothered them with latitudes and longitudes and the old soldier swore to all I said and we contrived to keep our ground, for we had both been great travellers. When they spoke of heavy taxes I talked of China. When they complained of hard times I told them of West Indian slaves—but neither could make any impression on the other.

When Murray was pressed and I was forced to skulk like a thief, they thought they had a great triumph over me and did not spare their taunts. One would ask what I thought of British freedom; another if I could defend a government which did such things?

I was at no loss for my answer. I told them, ‘Necessity had no law.’ Could the government make perfect seamen as easily as they could soldiers there would be no such thing as pressing of seamen, and that I was happy to be of more value than them all put together, for they would not impress any of them, they were of so little value compared with me.

When the news of the victory of Trafalgar arrived
I had my triumph over them in return. None but an old tar can feel the joy I felt. I wrought none the next day but walked about enjoying the feeling of triumph. Every now and then I felt the greatest desire to hurra aloud, and many an hurra my heart gave that my mouth uttered not.

For eleven years I lived at Cousland. Year followed year, but still no views of peace. I grew old apace and the work became too heavy for me. I was now fifty-eight years of age, and they would not have taken me had I wished to enter the service. I therefore removed to Edinburgh, and again began to work for myself. My first employers had failed in business long before. The times were completely changed. I could not get constant employment for myself. I therefore wrought for any of the other masters who were throng, but the cooper business is so very poor I have been oftener out of employment than at work. Few of them keep journeymen. They, like myself, do all their work with their own hands.

I never had any children by my cousin during the seventeen years we lived together. Margaret during all that time never gave me a bad word or made any strife by her temper—but all have their faults. I will not complain, but more money going out than I by my industry could bring in has now reduced me to want in my old age.

At her death, which happened four years ago, I was forced to sell all my property except a small room in which I live, and a cellar where I do any little work I
am so fortunate as obtain. This I did to pay the expenses of her funeral and a number of debts that had been contracted unknown to me. As my poverty will not allow me to pay for a seat in a church, I go in the evenings to the Little Church, but my house is in the Tolbooth parish.

Doctor Davidson visits me in his ministerial capacity. These, I may say, are the only glimpses of sunshine that ever visit my humble dwelling. Mr Mackenzie, my elder, is very attentive in giving me tickets of admission to the sermons that are preached in the school house in the Castle Hill. In one of Doctor Davidson’s visits, he made me a present of a few shillings. It was a great gift from God. I had not one penny at the time in the house.

In the month of August, last year, a cousin of my own made me a present of as much money as carried me to London. I sailed in the
Hawk,
London smack. I was only a steerage passenger but fared as well as the cabin passengers. I was held constantly in tow by the passengers. My spirits were up. I was at sea again. I had not trode a deck for twenty years before. I had always a crowd round me listening to my accounts of the former voyages that I had made. Everyone was more kind to me than another. I was very happy.

Upon my arrival in London I waited upon my old captain, Portlock, but fortune was now completely against me. He had been dead six weeks before my arrival. I left the house, my spirits sunk with grief for his death and my own disappointment, as my chief
dependence was upon his aid. I then went to Somerset House for the certificate of my service: seven years in the
Proteus
and
Surprise
in the American War, and seven in the
Edgar, Goliah, Ramilies
and
Ajax
in the French War.

I was ordered to go to the Admiralty Office first and then come back to Somerset House. When I applied at the Admiralty Office a clerk told me I had been too long of applying. I then went down to the Governor of Greenwich Hospital. I was not acquainted with him, but I knew the Governor of Greenwich would be a distressed seaman’s friend. His servant told me he was in Scotland. I then waited upon Captain Gore whose son’s life I had saved, but he was not at home. It was of no use to remain in London as my money wore down apace. I took my passage back to Edinburgh in the
Favourite,
London smack, and arrived just four weeks from my first setting out on this voyage of disappointment. What can I do? I must just take what fortune has still in store for me.

At one time, after I came home, I little thought I should ever require to apply for a pension, and therefore made no application until I really stood in need of it.

I eke out my subsistence in the best manner I can. Coffee made from the raspings of bread (which I obtain from the bakers) twice a day is my chief diet. A few potatoes or anything I can obtain with a few pence constitute my dinner. My only luxury is tobacco
which I have used these forty-five years. To beg I never will submit. Could I have obtained a small pension for my past services, I should then have reached my utmost earthly wish and the approach of utter helplessness would not haunt me as it at present does in my solitary home. Should I be forced to sell it, all I would obtain could not keep me and pay for lodgings for one year. Then I must go to the poor’s house, which God in his mercy forbid. I can look to my death bed with resignation but to the poor’s house I cannot look with composure.