Thirty Years From Home; or, a Voice From the Main Deck: Being the Experience of Samuel LeechLeech, Samuel
History
Thirty Years From Home; or, a Voice From the Main Deck: Being the Experience of Samuel Leech
Leech, Samuel
Adventure and adventurers; Leech, Samuel, 1798-1848; Sailors; United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Personal narratives
The circumstance was rather a singular one, that in both the
contending frigates the second boatswain’s mate bore the name of
William Brown, and that they both were killed; yet such was the fact.
The great number of the wounded kept our surgeon and his mate busily
employed at their horrid work until late at night; and it was a long
time before they had much leisure. I remember passing round the
ship the day after the battle. Coming to a hammock, I found some
one in it apparently asleep. I spoke; he made no answer. I looked
into the hammock; he was dead. My messmates coming up, we threw the
corpse overboard; that was no time for useless ceremony. The man
had probably crawled to his hammock the day before, and, not being
perceived in the general distress, bled to death! O War! who can
reveal thy miseries!
When the crew of the _United States_ first boarded our frigate, to
take possession of her as their prize, our men, heated with the fury
of the battle, exasperated with the sight of their dead and wounded
shipmates, and rendered furious by the rum they had obtained from
the spirit-room, felt and exhibited some disposition to fight their
captors. But after the confusion had subsided, and part of our men
were snugly stowed away in the American ship, and the remainder found
themselves kindly used in their own, the utmost good feeling began
to prevail. We took hold and cleansed the ship, using hot vinegar to
take out the scent of the blood that had dyed the white of our planks
with crimson. We also took hold and aided in fitting our disabled
frigate for her voyage. This being accomplished, both ships sailed in
company toward the American coast.
I soon felt myself perfectly at home with the American seamen;
so much so, that I chose to mess with them. My shipmates also
participated in similar feelings in both ships. All idea that we
had been trying to shoot out each other’s brains so shortly before,
seemed forgotten. We ate together, drank together, joked, sung,
laughed, told yarns; in short, a perfect union of ideas, feelings,
and purposes, seemed to exist among all hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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