The fate of the vessel, together with the
number of sufferers, were marked in rude but concise characters. I
do not exactly remember the words, but in substance it stated, that
underneath lay the remains of one hundred as fine fellows as ever
walked on a plank, and that they had died, like British seamen, doing
their duty to the last. This was a melancholy sight, especially to a
sailor, who knew not how soon the same fate awaited him.
We rafted off several casks of water during that day, and on the
following we completed our water, and then ran to the east end of
the island to anchor near, and wait for our consort the whaler, the
captain of which had come in his boat to visit us: I conversed with
him, and was struck with one remark which he made.
"You Englishmen go to work in a queerish kind of way," said he; "you
send a parcel of soldiers to live on an island where none but sailors
can be of use. You listen to all that those red coats tell you; they
never thrive when placed out of musket-shot from a gin-shop: and
because _they_ don't like it, you evacuate the island. A soldier likes
his own comfort, although very apt to destroy that of other folks; and
it a'n't very likely he would go and make a good report of an island
that had neither women nor rum, and where he was no better than a
prisoner. Now, if brother Jonathan had taken this island, I guess he
would a' made it pay for its keep; he would have had two or three
crews of whalers, with their wives and families, and all their little
comforts about them, with a party of good farmers to till the land,
and an officer to command the whole.
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