Ordered to the Black River—Meet the magistrate there, and “bow to his bishop”—Sail with a convoy of thirty ships—Arrive at Deal—A cruise on horseback on a baker’s nag, which conscientiously goes the bread round—The Author’s brother comes on board, but he fails to recognise him—Paid off at Deptford.

At daylight next morning we catted the anchors, made all sail, and were the next day reposing like a swan in a lake at Black River. As notices from the merchants at Kingston had been sent to the different ports round the island that two men-of-war were going to take convoy to England, we were soon joined by several West Indiamen. This place can scarcely be called even a village, there being so few houses, and those straggling. The first time I went on shore I was called to by a stout man wearing a linen jacket and trousers, with an immense broad-brimmed straw hat on his head, and his address was abrupt and by no means polished. “What ship,” said he, “officer?” “The Volage,” replied I, not in love with the person’s face, which was bluish-red, with a large nose. “Then,” said he, “you bloody dog, come and bow to my bishop,” pointing to the best house there. I stared with astonishment, and was turning away presuming he was a cloth in the wind or some [pg 170]madman escaped from his keeper. “Ho, ho! but you can’t go before you have bowed to my bishop,” he again called out; “come with me to my house, and we shall be better acquainted.” He took my arm; I thought him a character, which I afterwards found he was, and gave in to his whim. On entering the verandah of the house, which was shaded by close Venetian blinds and very cool, he stopped before an immense large jug in the shape of a bishop. It was placed on a bracket slab, so that to drink out of the corner of its hat, which was its beak or spout, you were obliged to stoop. This I found he called bowing to his bishop. It contained delicious sangaree, and I bowed to it without being entreated to do so a second time. “Now,” said he, “you bloody dog, you have complied like a good fellow with my first request. Your captain dines with me to-morrow; I must insist on your doing so too, and then I shall consider you an obedient officer and worthy to bow to my bishop whenever you are thirsty. My dinner-hour is five o’clock, and as I am the magistrate of this overgrown metropolis I admit of no excuse.” I could not help smiling at this rough urbanity. I accepted the invitation, and at the appointed hour repaired to his house with the captain and surgeon. He received us with great good humour, and insisted, as we were bloody dogs—I understood afterwards he was very partial to naval officers and always called them by that pet name—that we should bow to his bishop before dinner. We met at his table [pg 171]our kind acquaintance Mr. S., his daughter, another gentleman, his wife and two nieces, who were going to England in one of the ships of the convoy. The dining-room was entirely of cedar, and the floor like a mirror, very spacious, and it partly projected over the river. Above the dining-table was a large punkah, which was kept in constant motion during dinner by two young grinning black girls. The table groaned with good things, and we did ample justice to our host’s entertainment. He was evidently a great humourist, and amused us at dinner by relating anecdotes of Lord Rodney and Admiral Benbow’s time. “There are,” said he, “twelve tough old fellows, of which I am the chairman, who keep up the twelfth of April by an annual dinner, and as he never flinched from the enemy, we never flinch from the bottle, and keep it up till daylight, when we are so gloriously sober that we are carried home by our slaves.” “Is it true,” said he, addressing the captain, “that Sir Eyre Coote is to supersede the Earl of B. as Governor of our Islands? Do you know anything of him?” “Only from report,” was the reply; “I think he distinguished himself by a brilliant victory over Hyder Ali in the East Indies.” “Why, the devil,” said he, “I beg your pardon, ladies, for swearing, do they send us soldiers as governors? We want something in the shape of a statesman with a lawyer’s head, with his wig and litigation. I have no fault to find with the earl; he has governed us very fairly, and I hope his [pg 172]successor will do the same, although we prefer a civilian to a soldier.”

After dinner we were amused by the feats of one of his household slaves named Paddy Whack, who threw somersaults round the drawing-room, walked on his hands, and afterwards threw himself several times from the highest part of the bridge, about twenty-four feet, into the river. After coffee we took leave of our eccentric but warm-hearted host, who, on shaking hands, insisted on our bloody dogships dining with him once more before we sailed. We promised to do so conditionally. Eighteen sail of merchant vessels had assembled, and we expected seven more. The surf had been high on the bar, and we had not had communication with the shore for the last two days. A canoe came off from Mr. C. with Paddy Whack, who delivered a note to the captain. “What is it about, boy?” said he. “Paper peak, massa,” was the reply; “Paddy only wait answer from Massa Captain.” The note was a pressing invitation to dine on shore the following day, and included the captain and officers. As I had dined with the worthy planter I persuaded the second lieutenant to go. The rest of the convoy having joined us, our sails were again swelling to a strong sea-breeze. The convoy of thirty sail of sugar-laden ships were hovering round us like chickens round the mother hen. Four others joined us at Bluefields, and off Negril Point we fell in with the S. frigate, with the former Governor of Jamaica on [pg 173]board and three other West Indiamen. The captain went on board the S. to pay his respects and to receive his orders.

After his return on board the signal was made to make all sail, and away we bowled for the Gulf of Florida. We touched at the Caymans for turtle, and were cheated as usual. Nothing particular occurred during our passage but our nearly being run down by one of the ships of the convoy, and my having my left shoulder unshipped by being washed off one of the weather guns by a heavy sea, which obliged me to keep my cot for more than a fortnight. The eighth week brought us in sight of the Land’s End, when we repeated the signal for the convoy to separate for their respective ports. Those bound to London kept company with us as far as the Downs. I longed to be once more on my native shore, but I was doomed to be mortified for two days, as the surf on the beach was too high to admit a boat to land. On the third day I jumped on shore with a light heart and a thin pair of trousers, and repaired to the “Hoop and Griffin.” I had a desperate desire to have a cruise on horseback. I rang the bell, which was answered by one of the finest formed young women I ever beheld. I was taken aback, and my heart, which I had brought from the West Indies, went like the handle of the chain pumps up and down. “What do you please to want, sir,” said she, with a most musically toned voice. I blushed and modestly requested to have a horse as soon as he could be got ready. “I am really sorry, [pg 174]sir,” answered she, “that all our horses are post-horses, but” continued she, with the gentlest accent in this world and probably many more, “we will procure you one.” “Many thanks,” said I; “and will you oblige me by sending up some bread and butter with some oysters, but not those which are gathered from the mangrove trees,” for I had the West Indies in my mind. “Gathered from trees!—oysters from trees! I never heard of such a thing before,” said she, and she went laughing out of the room. The waiter soon appeared with what I had ordered, and a foaming tankard of ale which I had forgotten to order. During my repast I envied no one. I was as happy as a city alderman at a Lord Mayor’s feast; I could not contain myself or believe I was in England; I could not sit quietly in my chair; I paced the room, jumped, rubbed my hands and head, and in one of my ecstatic fits I rang the bell. My beautiful maid (not Braham’s) entered as I was cutting a caper extraordinary. “Did you ring, sir?” said she with a smile becoming an angel. “I believe I did,” I replied, “but I am not certain. I scarcely know what I am about. I have eaten my oysters, and now I wish for my horse.” “He is not quite ready yet, sir. You said something about oysters growing on trees, didn’t you, sir. I told it to my mother, and she thinks I did not understand what you said. Will you be good enough to tell me if they grow in orchards like our apples?” “I have seen thousands, and have eaten thousands that have [pg 175]grown on trees,” said I, “but not in orchards. The tree that bears them grows close to the water side; its lower branches dip into it, and are clustered by the shell-fish, which are very small, and you may swallow a dozen at a mouthful.” “Thank you, sir; my mother I am sure will believe me now. I will desire John to take away. Did you like our country oysters as well as those in foreign parts?” “They are,” said I, “like you, excellent.” “I will see if the horse is ready,” said she, as she dropped a curtsey and quitted the room.

Shortly after up came John to announce my horse being at the door. “Will you have a pair of master’s spurs, sir?” said he. “No, I thank you, my good fellow,” returned ............