Sketches From My Life: By The Late Admiral Hobart PashaHobart-Hampden, Augustus Charles
History
Sketches From My Life: By The Late Admiral Hobart Pasha
Hobart-Hampden, Augustus Charles
Adventure and adventurers; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Blockades
The most lovely birds and butterflies are found near Rio, and the finest
collections in the world are made there. The white people are Portuguese
by origin--not a nice lot to my fancy, though the ladies are as usual
always nice, especially when young; they get old very soon through
eating sweets and not taking exercise. There is very little poverty
except among the free blacks, who are lazy and idle and somewhat
vicious. I always have believed that the black man is an inferior
animal--in fact, that the dark races are meant to be drawers of water
and hewers of wood. I do not deny that they have souls to be saved, but
I believe that their rôle in this world is to attend on the white man.
The black is, and for years has been, educated on perfect equality with
the white man, and has had every chance of improving himself--with what
result? You could almost count on your fingers the names of those who
have distinguished themselves in the battle of life.
Sometimes, while cruising off the coast of Rio de Janeiro looking out
for slave vessels, we passed a very monotonous life. The long and
fearfully hot mornings before the sea breeze sets in, the still longer
and choking nights with the thermometer at 108°, were trying in the
extreme to those accustomed to the fresh air of northern climates; but
sailors have always something of the 'Mark Tapley' about them and are
generally jolly under all circumstances, and so it was with me. One day,
while longing for something to do, I discovered that the crew had been
ordered to paint the ship outside; as a pastime I put on old clothes and
joined the painting party. Planks were hung round the ship by ropes
being tied to each end of the plank; on these the men stood to do their
work. We had not been employed there very long when there was a cry from
the deck that the ship was surrounded by sharks. It seems that the
butcher had killed a sheep, whose entrails, having been thrown
overboard, attracted these fearful brutes round the ship in great
numbers. As may be imagined, this report created a real panic among the
painters, for I believe we all feared a shark more than an enemy armed
to the teeth. I at once made a hurried movement to get off my plank. As
I did so the rope at one end slipped off, and so threw the piece of
wood, to which I had to hang as on a rope, up and down the vessel's
side, bringing my feet to within a very few inches of the water. On
looking downwards I saw a great shark in the water, almost within
snapping distance of my legs. I can swear that my hair stood on end with
fear; though I held on like grim death, I felt myself going, yes, going,
little by little right into the beast's jaws. At that moment, only just
in time, a rope was thrown over my head from the deck above me, and I
was pulled from my fearfully perilous position, more dead than alive.
Now for revenge on the brutes who would have eaten me if they could! It
was a dead calm, the sharks were still swimming round the ship waiting
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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