Recollections of the eventful life of a soldierDonaldson, Joseph
History
Recollections of the eventful life of a soldier
Donaldson, Joseph
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives
Towards the afternoon the wind blew with great fury. The vessels in
the harbour began to drag their anchors, and before night many of
them were on shore; but we were well moored, and did not stir. The
storm continued the greater part of the night; and such a night I
hope I will never see again. No one would go below. We did not know
the moment the lightning might strike the vessel, and perhaps send
her to the bottom. It is in vain for me to attempt to convey any
adequate description of that dreadful night in words. No one can
form an idea of its awfulness, unless he had seen it. The men stood
huddled in groups, on the deck, in silence. Indeed it was useless
to speak, for they could not be heard; nor scarcely could they see
each other, unless when the lightning shot its awful glare athwart
their faces, and made their horror visible for an instant: and the
livid cadaverous colour it shed over their countenances, gave them an
expression truly appalling.
About one o’clock in the morning, the storm began to moderate; the
flashes of lightning became weaker, and less frequent; the awful
roaring of the thunder changed into a hoarse growl, and at length
died away. By two the storm had so much subsided, that the seamen,
with the exception of the harbour watch, went below to their hammocks.
I was surprised next morning, when I got up at sunrise, to see no
vestige of the night’s storm remaining. All was calm and serene, save
a pleasant breeze from the shore, which brought the most delicious
odours along with it. The sun rose with unusual brightness, and all
nature seemed renovated. We could not, indeed, have imagined that
there had been a storm the preceding night, if the effects of its
fury had not been visible in the roofless buildings and stranded
vessels around us.
Our vessel had suffered little or no damage. We got on with our
loading, and in a short time we were ready for sea. The day before
we sailed, the owners sent a present of a bottle of rum to each man,
to hold a sort of ‘chevo,’ as the sailors called it. The decks were
cleared, and we sat down in groups with our bottles, and commenced
drinking. Ail went on very well for a time. The song and joke went
round, and harmony and good humour prevailed. But when the drink
began to operate, some of them who had differences during the voyage
began to ‘tell their minds.’ The result was, that they came to high
words, and from that to blows. The rest of the crew took different
sides, according as they were interested; and the deck soon became
a scene of confusion and bloodshed. I had drunk little, and mounted
into the foretop to be out of ‘harm’s way;’ and from thence saw
the combat, without danger of getting any of the blows which were
dealing out so plentifully. The mate came forward to try to quell the
disturbance; but they knocked him over a kedge anchor that lay on the
deck, and broke one of his ribs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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