Enterprise and Adventure

Front matter

ARAGO WATCHING FOR THE SIGNALS.

ENTERPRISE AND ADVENTURE.

A COLLECTION

Hugh Clapperton, the African Explorer

ENTERPRISE AND ADVENTURE.

HUGH CLAPPERTON, THE AFRICAN EXPLORER.

Captain Hugh Clapperton, the first discoverer who traversed the vast continent of Africa, from the Gulf of Guinea to Tripoli in the Mediterranean, was placed, in 1815, during the war with America, in command of a blockhouse on Lake Huron in Canada, with a party of sailors. An anecdote is related of him here which strongly illustrates that goodness of heart which is attributed to him by his faithful servant, and companion of his African travels, Richard Lander. Vigorously attacked by an United States schooner on the lake, the blockhouse had but one small gun for its defence, and was soon demolished by the superiority of the enemy's fire. In this situation, Clapperton perceived that himself and his party had no alternative but to become prisoners of war, or to take the resolution of immediately crossing on foot the frozen waters of Lake Michigan, a distance of nearly sixty miles, on to York, the capital of Upper Canada, the nearest British depôt. The difficulty and danger of such a journey was felt by all; but the unfortunate garrison had faith in their young leader, and finally, taking with them what little relics of property had been spared by the fire, they set out to cross the lake. Cold fogs hovered over the dismal scene, the sky was heavy, and, to add to their misery, a blinding snow-storm overtook them, making it very difficult to maintain their way, though guided by the compass which they had fortunately got with them. For food on this wearisome journey they had nothing but a solitary bag of meal, which was served out in handfuls and eaten raw. They had scarcely proceeded more than ten or twelve miles, when a boy who was one of the party was found to be too much exhausted to walk further. Every one of the sailors declared that they were unable to carry him, as they were so benumbed by the cold, that they had scarcely strength sufficient to support themselves. It was at this time that the first snow began to fall, and Clapperton's generous nature could not bear the idea of the boy being left to perish under these circumstances. He therefore, though himself exceedingly weak and faint, took the boy upon his back, holding him with his left hand, while supporting himself from slipping on the rugged surface of the frozen waters with a staff in his right. Thus the mournful and silent procession moved on, getting no rest, for they feared to lie down. Meanwhile, the good Clapperton, sheltering his young companion from the cold as well as he could, manfully supported him, till, to his great grief, he felt the lad's hold relax, and found that he was dying from the cold, from which he afterwards expired. The sufferings of the whole

CLAPPERTON CARRYING THE DYING BOY.

party, before reaching their destination, were terrible in the extreme. Their shoes were worn from their feet; their bodies woefully emaciated from their want of nourishment; while Clapperton, from the effects of the frost, and the long inaction of his left hand while carrying the boy on his back, lost the first joint of his thumb.

The extraordinary energy and love of enterprise of Clapperton fitted him admirably for encountering those perils of African discovery which had consumed the lives of so many illustrious discoverers. The history of his entry into the navy is interesting. The youngest son of a Dumfries apothecary with a large family, Clapperton went to sea in a merchant ship when a boy, and was one day seized by a press-gang, and conveyed aboard a king's ship. Here he made the best of his position, and being remarkable for his great strength and agility, he was one of those who were selected to learn the new sword exercise, then taught by the famous Angelo, with a view to their afterwards teaching it to the sailors of the fleet. The boldness and decision displayed by him in his retreat from the Canadian blockhouse brought him into notice, and interesting the Admiralty in his favour, led to his promotion from the grade of midshipman to that of acting lieutenant, and finally to that of captain. Placed on half-pay by the termination of the war in 1817, his great delight was in shooting, fishing, and other out-door exercises; till, becoming acquainted in Edinburgh with Dr. Oudney, the African explorer, his mind became captivated with the idea of travel in that little-explored continent; and in 1823 he became employed by Lord Bathurst, in con with Oudney and Major Denham, to make a journey to Timbuctoo. Dr. Oudney soon fell a victim to the climate; but Clapperton and his surviving companion kept on their way, and, in spite of incredible hardships, penetrated from Tripoli on the Mediterranean to Lake Tchad, and finally to Saccatoo. But he failed to discover the termination of the Niger, which was the chief object of the expedition.

In his next journey, Clapperton started from the Bight of Benin, on the Atlantic coast, and proceeding northward, again reached Saccatoo, thus completing the journey across the heart of Africa. It is said that some of his Scottish friends, with the superstitious regard for family tradition which distinguishes their countrymen, remembered as an ominous fact that the traveller belonged to the Campbell family, a family on whom rested, in popular language, the curse of Glencoe, his grandmother having been a daughter of Colonel Campbell, of Glenlyon, the officer by whom the soldiers who committed the massacre of Glencoe were commanded. But assuredly if there was one man who ought to have been exempted from the ill fortune which the superstitious believed to wait upon the Campbells, it was the good, the heroic, and the kind hearted Clapperton. Nor was there anything in his end, though untimely, to justify the warnings of the old legend. His fate was the common one of African explorers. His friend and leader, Dr. Oudney, had died in his first expedition; and in his second expedition he had the misfortune to see his companions, Captain Pearce, Mr. Dickson, and Dr. Morrison, a naturalist, one by one succumb to the unwholesome climate. Left now with only the servants which accompanied the expedition, the indomitable Clapperton pursued his way, and had the happiness to reach the spot at which his previous journey, commenced from the other side of the continent, had ended. Here, as if the work allotted to him in this world was ended, this brave man gave way under the effects of toil and privation. Nothing can convey a more touching testimony to the character of Clapperton than the narrative of his end, given by his faithful serf ant, Richard Lander. Sleeping on the reedy banks of a stagnant stream had brought on dysentery. "Twenty days," says Lander, "my poor master remained in a low and distressed state. His body, from being robust and vigorous, became weak and emaciated, and indeed was little better than a skeleton."

Lander himself was in a fever and almost unable to stir, but he was assisted by an old black slave. Meanwhile his patient's sleep was always short and disturbed, and troubled with frightful dreams. Lander read to him daily from the New Testament, till, one day calling him to his bedside, Clapperton told him that he should shortly be no more, and that he felt himself dying. "God forbid, my dear master!" exclaimed Lander; but the dying man only answered by bidding him not be so much affected, as it was the will of the Almighty. He then gave some minute directions for the return of the survivors, for the care of his journals and other things, and soon afterwards breathed his last. Lander obtained permission to bury the body, and himself performed the mournful task of reading over it the funeral service.

"Then," continues Lander, in his beautiful narrative of this event, "I returned, disconsolate and oppressed, to my solitary habitation; and leaning my head on my hand, could not help being deeply affected with my lonesome and dangerous situation—a hundred and fifteen days' journey from the sea coast, surrounded by a selfish and cruel race of strangers, my only friend and protector mouldering in his grave, and myself suffering dreadfully from fever. I felt, indeed, as though I stood alone in the world, and earnestly wished I had been laid by the side of my dear master." Having, with the assistance of two slaves, erected a small house over the grave as a memorial of the spot, Lander was soon afterwards sufficiently recovered to take the command of what remained of the expedition. After a tedious journey, and numerous privations, he arrived at Cape Coast, where he embarked in a sloop-of-war, from which he landed in England in April, 1828.

Admiral Byron's Return

ADMIRAL BYRON'S RETURN.

In these days of telegraph and railway, it is difficult to imagine the time in which such a history could be possible as that of the Honourable John Byron's return to England, as told by himself in his account of his voyage and shipwreck. Byron's narrative is one of terrible hardships suffered by himself and his companions on the coast of Patagonia, from the year 1740, the time of the loss of the "Wager" man-of-war, one of Admiral Anson's squadron, until his arrival in this country in 1746. Of one hundred and forty of the crew who escaped from the unfortunate vessel, scarcely a dozen survived the privations which they endured upon that inhospitable coast. It was in the year following their shipwreck that a miserable remnant of the wreck, consisting of Byron himself, Captain Cheap, and Mr. Hamilton, the surgeon, arrived, after many months of wanderings, at the town of Castro, a Spanish settlement on the eastern coast of South America. Hence in January, 1743, they were sent to Valparaiso, from which city they embarked in a French ship, and finally anchored in Brest roads on the 27th of October, 1745. England being then still at war with Spain, as well as with France, the three Englishmen were detained near Brest, on parole, for some months, when an order arrived from the court of Spain to permit them to return home by the first ship that offered. This proved to be a Dutch vessel at Morlaix, the commander of which agreed to land them at Dover. Having been paid beforehand, however, the brutal skipper refused to keep his promise, and actually carried them to the coast of France, where, fortunately, a British man-of-war having overhauled him, he gave up his passengers. The captain of the man-of-war then ordered them to be landed at Dover in one of his cutters.

Arrived safely at Dover, with a little money with which a kind-hearted Frenchman had provided them, they found no one to give them further help. During all the six years they had been absent, no news had reached England of these remnants of the unfortunate "Wager," and the recollection of her voyage had long passed away. The wanderers had nothing to do but to go on to London, and there make themselves known. Accordingly they started for Canterbury on post horses, but having arrived here, Captain Cheap, the commander of the "Wager," whose health had been grievously impaired by his sufferings, was unable to proceed, and they were compelled to find a lodging. The next day the captain proved too ill to ride further, and it was therefore agreed that he and the surgeon, Mr. Hamilton, should take a post chaise, while Byron continued to ride; but here an unfortunate difficulty was started, for upon sharing the little money which they had, it was found to be insufficient to defray the charges of the journey, while Byron's proportion fell so much short that it was barely enough to pay for the horses, without refreshment, on the road, or even for the turnpikes. The latter difficulty was got over by the device of riding, as Byron says, "as hard as I could through them all," not paying the least regard to the men who called out to stop him, and who probably took him for a highwayman, and were thankful that he did not, besides defrauding them, insist on carrying off their little treasury of tolls. The want of refreshment was a minor evil. Having arrived in the Borough, Byron continues, "I took a coach and drove to Marlborough Street, where my friends had lived, but when I came there I found the house shut up. Having been absent so many years, and in all that time never having heard a word from home, I knew not who was dead or who was living, or where to go next, or even how to pay the coachman;" but, fortunately, he remembered a linendraper, not far distant, with whom his family had dealt, and who kindly relieved him from this difficulty.

He then inquired of some persons after his family, and there learnt that his sister, Lady Isabella Byron, had married, three years before, the Earl of Carlisle, and he was directed to their house—a fine old red brick mansion, which still stands in the neighbourhood of Soho Square. He immediately walked to this house and knocked at the door; but the footman refused to take in his name or believe in his pretended relationship to the family. In fact, there was not much in his appearance which denoted aristocratic connections. His dress was a strange medley of worn-out clothing, half French and half Spanish, and he wore a huge pair of boots, picked up in his travels, which were now covered with dirt. Altogether, Robinson Crusoe himself could scarcely have been a more unlikely person to present himself at the door of an English nobleman's mansion, or announce himself as the brother of my lady the Countess. The man was about to shut the door in his face, when the earnestness of the intruder's manner finally induced him to admit him. "I need not acquaint my readers," adds Byron, "with what surprise and joy my sister received me. She immediately furnished me with money sufficient to appear like the rest of my countrymen, till which time I could not be properly said to have finished all the extraordinary scenes which a series of unfortunate adventures had kept me in for the space of five years and upwards." In fact, although the wanderers included the captain of the lost man-of-war and the brother of an English nobleman, and although their story had been for several years known in various cities of South America, and also for some time in Brest, they were themselves the first to bring to the Admiralty tidings of their marvellous escape. Byron became afterwards distinguished in his profession, in which he rose to the rank of vice-admiral; but his evil fortune at sea pursued him, until the superstitious sailors gave him the nickname of "Foulweather Jack;" by which the poet Byron, who was a grandson of the vice-admiral, alludes to him in a note to one of his poems.

A Timely Rescue

A TIMELY RESCUE.

One of the most singular escapes from drowning at sea perhaps ever recorded, is related in the letter of an officer of the eighty-third regiment, addressed to friends in Canada Borne years ago. While the division to which the writer belonged was on its way to Orient, being at that time a short distance eastward of the Cape of Good Hope, one of the men was ordered, for some trifling offence, to be severely flogged. Irritated to madness by the disgrace of the punishment, and by the cruelty with which it was administered, the poor fellow was no sooner released from the cords which had bound him than he ran to the bulwarks of the vessel, and, before the ship's crew and his soldier comrades, sprang overboard. The vessel was at the time making rapid way, with a high sea running, so that, as the man swept astern, all hope of saving him appeared to be at an end. Assistance, however, came from a quarter which the spectators could hardly have anticipated. While the crew were vainly endeavouring to lower the boat, which, as generally happens, was found to be no easy matter, a huge bird was seen in the distance to swoop down upon the struggling man. As the form of the man grew more indistinct in the distance, it seemed fluttering over him, as if puzzled by the unusual object. By the time the vessel had put about, and the boat, which had at length been lowered, was approaching, the bird was seen to be a huge albatross, which had descended upon the struggling soldier, doubtless to prey upon the body; but the man, in the agonies of his struggle, had instinctively seized the bird firmly, and retained his grasp in spite of the embarrassment of the creature, and its strenuous efforts to release itself. In this position his comrades found him, and finally restored him safely to the vessel. "Incredible as this story seems," says the original narrator, "the name and position of the writer of the letter, who was an eye-witness of the scene, sufficiently attests its truth."

Adventures of Linnaeus in Lapland

THE ADVENTURES OF LINNÆUS IN LAPLAND.

The celebrated naturalist, Linnæus, was appointed by the Swedish Royal Academy of Sciences to travel through Lapland, for the purpose of investigating the natural history of that country; and in his journal of this mission he has left us a curious and interesting record of the hardships which he willingly encountered in a journey alone through what was then an almost unknown country. It was on a morning in May, that he set out from the town of Upsal, attired, as he tells us, in a light coat of linsey-wolsey cloth, without folds, lined with red shalloon, leather breeches, a green leather cap, and a pair of half-boots. "I carried," he adds, "a small leather bag, half an ell in length, but somewhat less in breadth, furnished on one side with hooks and eyes, so that it could be opened and shut at pleasure. This bag contained one shirt, two pair of false sleeves, two half-shirts, an inkstand and pencase, microscope and telescope, a gauze cap to protect me occasionally from the gnats, a comb, my journal, and a parcel of paper stitched together for drying plants, both in folio, my manuscript ornithology, etc. I wore a hanger at my side, and carried a small fowling-piece, as well as an octangular stick, graduated for the purpose of measurement. Such was the simple equipment of the enthusiastic naturalist for a solitary journey, which amounted to three thousand seven hundred and ninety-eight English miles, through the wildest and most inhospitable region of Europe.

The facts which Linnæus records in his journey chiefly relate to the plants, the animals, and the physical characteristics of the country he passed through; but it contains also numerous pictures of his own sufferings in pursuit of his favourite science. At Geflo he visited the last apothecary's shop and the last physician's in the country, no other being to be met with in any place farther north. Sometimes he passed through a desolate region, where all signs of vegetation were wanting; at others along a forlorn and wild sea-coast, where some remains of wrecked vessels added to the dismal character of the scene. On one occasion, he came to the hut of a Laplander and his wife, whom he describes as "of very diminutive stature, her eyes dark and sparkling, her eyebrows black, her pitchy-coloured hair hanging loose about her head, on which she wore a flat cap." She had a grey petticoat, her neck and bust, which resembled the skin of a frog, were adorned with brass rings; round her waist she wore a girdle, and on her feet a pair of half-boots. This woman, who spoke with the energy of a fury, nevertheless showed some compassion for the stranger's miserable plight, and addressed him with the words, "O wretched man, what hard fate can have brought you here, to a place never visited by any one before? Miserable creature, how did you come, and whither will you go? Do you not see what habitations we have, and with what difficulty we go to church?"

"My health and strength," he adds, "being by this time materially impaired by wading through such an extent of marshes, laden with my apparel and luggage, for the Laplander had enough to do to carry the boat; by walking for whole nights together; by not having for a long time tasted any boiled meat; by drinking a great quantity of water, as nothing else was to be had; and by eating nothing but fish, unsalted, and crawling with vermin, I must have perished but for a piece of dried and salted reindeer's flesh, given me by my kind hostess the clergyman's wife at Lycksele. This food, however, without bread, proved unwholesome and indigestible. How I longed once more to meet with people who feed on spoon-meat! I inquired of this woman whether she could give me anything to eat. She replied, 'Nothing but fish.' I looked at the fresh fish, as it was called; but perceiving its mouth to be full of maggots, I had no appetite to touch it. But though it thus abated my hunger, it did not recruit my strength. I asked if I could have any reindeer tongues, which are commonly dried for sale, and served up even at the tables of the great; but was answered in the negative. 'Have you no cheese made of reindeer's milk?' said I. 'Yes,' replied she, 'but it is a mile off.' 'If it were here, would you allow me to buy some?' 'I have no desire,' answered the good woman, 'that you should die in my country for want of food.'" On arriving at her hut Linnæus perceived three cheeses lying under a shed without walls, and took the smallest of them, which she after some consultation, allowed him to purchase.

This was the turning point in his journey, the difficulties of penetrating further in a country of morass and wilderness being insurmountable. He records in his journal that he felt that he had, with the thoughtlessness of youth, undertaken more than he could perform, and pathetically adds that the screams of some wild birds overhead as he passed along seemed to his imagination like the sound of derisive laughter, for he was faint and weak with hunger, having eaten scarcely anything for four days. In this plight, however, he fortunately reached the house of a good clergyman, who gave him hospitable shelter and some fresh meat.

Among other strange sights which he records was that of a forest on fire, of which he gives a vivid description. The dry season had rendered the boughs so inflammable, that a flash of lightning striking one of the trees set it in a blaze, which rapidly spread. In many places the fire extended over several miles; in one place he walked for more than three-quarters of a mile through a part of the forest which had been completely destroyed, and where charred timbers, and blackened shrubs and grass, were the only things which met the eye. A guide accompanied him through this region, and he adds:—

"The fire was nearly extinguished in most of the spots we visited, except in anthills and dry trunks of trees. After we had travelled about half a quarter of a mile across one of these scenes of desolation, the wind began to blow with rather more force than it had done, upon which a sudden noise arose in the half-burnt forest, such as I can only compare to what may be imagined among a large army attacked by an enemy. We knew not whither to turn our steps; the smoke would not suffer us to remain where we were, nor durst we turn back. It seemed best to hasten forward, in hopes of speedily reaching the outskirts of the wood; but in this we were disappointed. We ran as fast as we could, in order to avoid being crushed by the falling trees, some of which threatened us every minute. Sometimes the fall of a huge trunk was so sudden that we stood aghast, not knowing whither to turn to escape destruction, and throwing ourselves entirely on the protection of Providence. In one instance a large tree fell exactly between me and my guide, who walked not more than a fathom from me, but, thanks to God! we both escaped in safety. We were not a little rejoiced when this perilous adventure terminated, for we had felt all the while like a couple of outlaws, in momentary fear of surprise."

Throughout all these perils and hardships the enthusiastic Linnæus calmly pursued his observations of nature, recording them daily where possible in his journal, which he concludes with the simple words, "To the Maker and Preserver of all things be praise, honour, and glory for ever." This interesting manuscript was not published, or even known to exist, until many years after his death. His papers, herbarium, etc., having been purchased by Sir J. E. Smith, this journal was found among them; but, owing to its being in the Swedish language, intermixed with Latin, and with many ciphers and abbreviations, its curious contents long remained unknown. At length a young English merchant, Mr. Charles Troilus, undertook the task of translating it, by whom it was published some years ago.

Arthur Young's Great Enterprise

ARTHUR YOUNG'S GREAT ENTERPRISE.

It is a singular circumstance that the only authentic or complete survey of agriculture in Trance, and of the condition of the French peasantry on the eve of the great Revolution, should have been made by an Englishman, whose work, although it received no help or recognition from any government, English or foreign, is still regarded as the chief source of information on that subject, even by the French themselves. This Englishman was Arthur Young, a Suffolk farmer, and a man of very enlightened views, not only on agricultural questions, but on politics and statistical science.

Young was a man of limited means; but his enterprise and determination made up for all defects. He set out completely alone, furnished with a trusty English mare and a moderate purse of money; and in this way traversed the whole of France three times, besides extending his journey by along tour in Spain and Italy. In all parts of these journeys he made the minutest observations on the state of the country and the manners and condition of the people; but if this had been all, his work would scarcely have been accounted extraordinary. Its chief value lay in the immense amount of facts which he collected almost entirely from personal inquiry on the nature of crops, rent, course of husbandry, wages of labour, population, commerce, size of farms, profits of farming, and an almost infinite variety of kindred subjects. Traversing the kingdom on the western side, then through the centre, and finally along the eastern frontier, scarcely a province was left by him unexplored; and the result was the publication, in two quarto volumes, of such a body of original information on these points as had probably never before been collected by one person in any country, and which even royal commissions and liberal aid from the state have in other countries failed to obtain.

Young's narrative was by no means a dry and technical one. It abounded in shrewd observations of life, and graphic pictures of manners and scenery, with here and there some interesting adventures. His travels were undertaken in the years 1787, 1788, and 1789, when the political ferment which resulted in the great tempest of the French Revolution was commencing, and he was present in Paris during the stormy meeting of the Tiers État, saw the king and queen in the midst of scenes which have since become historical; and in the latter part of his survey ran no small risk of falling a victim to the popular suspicion of the object of his laborious investigations. The people thought him a spy; and at that time to be suspected of being a spy was highly dangerous. On one occasion, in a little town, a furious mob assailed him for venturing to appear without wearing the cockade of the Tiers État. They said it was the command of the assembly, and if he was not an aristocrat he must not dare to appear without it. Having asked them, good humouredly, what would be the case, supposing he was an aristocrat, the mob answered, menacingly, "Why, then, you will be hanged." Young perceived that it was no time for joking. A cry arose that he was a noble in disguise. Finally, he thought of the device of haranguing them from the steps of his inn, which he did in such French as he could command, informing them that he was from England, where men enjoyed liberty; and having fastened on another cockade more securely than the last, the people ended in cheering him, and he was allowed to depart.

Signs of danger became more numerous; but the indomitable Young pursued his way, unfriended and alone, noting daily as he went all things which seemed worthy of a record. Around Besançon he found chateaus burnt and plundered, the nobles hunted down like wild beasts, their wives and daughters insulted, and their property destroyed. Robbers, galley slaves, and villains of every kind, were prowling about the country to take advantage of the confusion and to instigate the ignorant peasants to further outrages. The suspicion of officials was sometimes still more annoying. The peaceful and polite people whom he had met in the early part of his travels appeared transformed into a savage race. On one occasion a poor woman who had guided him for a few sous over the mountains, was arrested before his eyes and dragged to a dilapidated chateau which had been turned into a prison, and Young learnt that her crime was merely that of having aided him, a stranger and a suspicious person in those parts. The good-hearted Englishman determined at once to follow the woman and her persecutors, in the hope of procuring her release by attesting her innocence. They were followed by a mob of the country people, and by the woman's children crying bitterly. At the chateau a solemn committee of the authorities sagely remarked, that "in such dangerous times, when all the world knew that so great and powerful a person as the queen was conspiring against France, for a woman to become the conductor of a stranger who appeared to be making so many suspicious inquiries, was a high offence. In vain Young assured them that she was but a poor woman who had offered, in the hope of gaining a few sous for herself and family, to direct him to see the springs and volcanic craters famous in those parts; but her judges asked him, sternly, what he had to do with springs and volcanoes, and refused to release her. Determined not to abandon the poor woman who had been thus involved in trouble on his account, Young declared that if they imprisoned her they should do the same by him, and answer for their conduct to higher authorities. This lofty language seems to have impressed the rural magistrates, who were finally prevailed on to release her.