title: Memoirs of Captain James Wilson, containing an account of his enterprises and sufferings in India, his conversion to Christianity, his missionary voyage to the South Seas, and his peaceful and triumphant death
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CAPTAIN JAMES WILSON, CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF HIS ENTERPRISES AND SUFFERINGS IN INDIA, HIS CONVERSION TO CHRISTIANITY, HIS MISSIONARY VOYAGE TO THE SOUTH SEAS AND HIS PEACEFUL AND TRIUMPHANT DEATH. BY JOHN GRIFFIN. First American Edition , COMPRISING AN OF USEFUL AND INTERESTING MISSIONARY PAPERS. ■ .. +\’ mmmm BOSTON: SAMUEL T. ARMSTRONG, AND CROCKER & BREWSTER, NEW YORK:—JOHN P. HAVEN. 1322 , CONTENTS. n engraved likeness of Pomarre, king of Otaheite. PART FIRST. Remarks upon the subject of Biography generally—Dr. Ha weis’s Opinion of Wilson’s eventftil and instructive life—Wilson’s parentage -—was at the battle of Bunker Hill—goes to India—runs his ship ashore—undertakes a hazardous enterprise for the relief of the array in India—succeeds—is taken prisoner by the French—escapes with great labor and risk from captivity—is retaken—his cruel treatment —horrors of the prison house—he is released—saves a man from drowning—engages in trade—becomes rich—meets Mr. Thomas the Baptist missionary, and with him returns to England—settles at Horn dean. - 9 PART SECOND. Capt. Wilson becomes Acquainted with the author—arguments for the truth of Revelation—necessity of a Revelation—Leslie’s short method—Predestination—is under very deep concern about the sal¬ vation of his soul—is admitted a member of the church in Port- sea. ....... -31 PART THIRD. Wilson offers himself for the missionary voyage—goes to London and enters on the employment—the ship Duff is purchased and pre¬ pared for sea—Letters—Duff sails from London, August 10, 1796— arrives at Spithead—is visited by some of the Directors—Letter of Instructions—Duff sails from Portsmouth, Sept. 23d—arrives at Rio de Janeiro, Nov. 12.—Notice of the Duff’s safe arrival given at the General meeting in May, 1798—Capt. Wilson’s letter to Joseph Hardcastle, Esq. dated at Canton, in which is an interesting account of the voyage, and reception at the Islands.—Kind and grateful let¬ ter of the Missionaries to Capt. Wilson; he is ridiculed in China— iv CONTENTS. soon obtains a cargo, and leaves China, Dec, 3, 1 797— arrives at the Cape of Good Mope, March 17, 1798, and in the River Thames July 11 el! well; having been absent one year and nine months—a day of public thanksgiving observed by the friends of the mission— Dr. Haweis’s Sermon—Letter of the Missionaries to the Directors — Letters of Pomarre—Letter from the Rev. Mr. Marsden. - 96 PART FOURTH. Capt. Wilson’s manner of life—resides in London—health impair¬ ed— Marries into a wealthy and respectable family at Camberwell— his kindness to his relatives, whereby he becomes involved, and sus¬ tains very heavy losses—Mrs. Wilson—on fixing upon some settled plan in bestowing charity—countess of Warwick—Capt. Wilson dies in peace and triumph, Friday, Aug. 12, 1814—Reflections. - 153 APPENDIX. Letters from Mr. Marsden—from the Missionaries—from Po- marre—the Royal Mission Chapel at Taheite—Missionary meet¬ ing there—new laws— Pomarre baptised —Missionary meeting at Huaheine—at Eimeo—St. Luke’s Gospel published—remarkable changes in the manners and morals of the natives—a barbarous mur¬ der, note —Some account of Pomarre the present king—his man¬ ners and personal appearance—extract of his letter to Mr. Marsden —the newly built vessel called “ Haiveis ”—an Address to the friends of Missionary Societies—Divine Predictions the warrant and authority for missionary exertions—John Foster on the Love of Money, an extract from a Missionary Sermon. - - 1T5 MEMOIRS OF ©AMASH MHUSS PART I. From the Early Youth of the Captain , to his set¬ tling at Horndean , in Hampshire. THE representation of truth through the medium of historic fact and biographical incident, has always proved more interesting to a very nu¬ merous class of readers, than when presented in an abstract and didactic form. Biography exhibits principles in operation, and shows the doctrine and its evidence in one view. The reading of it gives scope for the exercise of nearly all the powers of the soul, at the same time. The imagination presents to the mind, the object, place, and occurrence, as though before the eye; the understanding associates ideas, examines and traces causes and effects, and draws its conclusions, while the passions are excited, in a degree propor¬ tioned to the interesting nature of the narrative. If its subjects be moral or religious, the conscience 1 10 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. also is employed, and gives a point and personal application to truth, highly beneficial to the reader. Thus biography, while it affords entertainment, is suited to impart instruction, and improve the heart. It is from the interest the human mind feels in his¬ toric representation, that dramatic writing obtains such an extensive and almost universal popularity. The religious as well as the fashionable world, has its dramas; and fact and fiction are so blended in some books, as to render it necessary to guard our young people against supposing that all is fiction. It is neither my province nor my intention, to decide on the propriety or impropriety of this mode of writing, but I may express my fears, lest there should be such a degree of it, as may intro¬ duce a levity of character into the most serious part of society, and by the number of such books facili¬ tate the transition from the love of religious to that of fashionable novels. By giving too much employ¬ ment to the fancy, faith is embarrassed, and the un¬ derstanding is weakened. Perhaps the best way to prevent a redundancy of this kind of composition, is to present the religious world with authentic nar¬ ratives of real life; to exhibit facts as they occur, without the aid of an imaginary scenery to increase the interest of the representation. It it should be thought that these remarks seem like an apology for writing the following Me¬ moir, I would say, it is not denied; but they afford likewise an opportunity to assure the reader, that fiction is in no instance called to aid or embellish the interesting narrative which is here presented of the life of Captain James Wilson. Dr. Havveis thought the Captain’s life so eventful and instructive, that he has appended a well-written, though brief account, of the early part of it, to his three volumes of Church History. This account has been since printed by some booksellers, in a de- HIS EARLY YOUTH. 11 tached, but mutilated form, and very extensively circulated through the country. The avidity with which that tract was read, and the lively interest many have taken in the Captain’s life, have induced his friends to think, that a more enlarged and cor¬ rect account of his conversion from Deism to Chris¬ tianity, and from a state of unregeneracy to a state of vital godliness, is highly desirable. i have given the part of his life previous to his conversion, with some corrections and additions, which subsequent conversation with the Captain suggested, nearly in the language of his much es¬ teemed friend. The Doctor entitles his account, “Memoirs of the leadings of Divine Providence, in the call of Captain James Wilson to the work of conducting the South Sea Mission.” As the work of God in general, and the Mission¬ ary Society in particular, are so highly indebted to the noble and disinterested services of Captain James Wilson, 1 wish to record his name among the worthies, w ho in spreading the Gospel among the heathen, deserve to he held in especial remembrance. The singular wisdom and prudence with which he discharged his trust, and the uncommon success which crow ned his labors, through the w hole of his long and perilous voyage, are a fresh manifestation of the care and keeping of that gracious Lord w ho had so often before, and in such a wonderful manner, led him by a way w hich he knew not; preserved him amidst deaths oft, and dangers so peculiar; and after bearing with him in his rebellion and insensi¬ bility, having chosen him from the beginning for himself, prepared him by a series of preceding prov¬ idences for that work which he was so peculiarly qualified to fulfil. Captain James Wilson was the youngest son of nineteen children. His father w as commander of a 12 MEMOIRS OP CAPTAIN WILSON. ship in the Newcastle trade, and brought him up from his.earliest years in the sea service. During the last war he served in America, and was present at the battles of Bunker’s Hill, and of Long Island. On his return from America, he obtained a birth as mate of an East Indiaman, being, though young, an able navigator. After arriving in safety at Ben¬ gal, he quitted his ship, and determined to abide in that country. There he became engaged in the country service, and in one of these voyages, Mr. Cabel, the marine paymaster, sailing with him from Madras to Calcutta, was so much pleased with his conduct as to commence the most cordial friendship with him; and soon after their arrival in Bengal, sent him in a small vessel to the Nicobar Islands, with dispatches for the ships returning from the east, to advise them of the arrival of the French squadron, under SutFrein, on the coast, and to put them on their guard. The ship he commanded was iii-found, and in the voyage her stern-post grew so loose as to admit so much water, that with difficulty she was prevented from foundering. He was there¬ fore obliged to run for Madras, and off Pulicat, dis¬ covered the’ French fleet going down the coast: he expected them to chase; and pressed with all sail for the shore, where a dangerous shoal probably pre¬ vented pursuit and capture; but the ship was so leaky he was obliged to run her on the beach to save their lives. He proceeded thence to Madras, just at the critical moment when the settlement was in the greatest distress. Sir Eyre Coote had marched to the south, and was so surrounded by Hyder Ally’s army, that no supplies could reach him by land; and the French squadron anchoring at Pon¬ dicherry, had cut off all supplies by sea; so that the British troops were reduced to great difficulties, and in danger of famine, their stores being nearly ex¬ hausted. HI9 EARLY YOUTH. 13 Several Pia ships had been loaded with rice at Madras, but as the French fleet la) directly in the way, they dared not attempt the passage to Cudda- lore, near which Sir Eyre Foote was encamped. The Governor of Madras, Mr. Smith, had heard of Mr. Wilson, and though a young man, sent for him and inquired if he would attempt to carry down the ships w ith the supplies for the camp, stating the danger and hazard of the run, and offering him four hundred pagodas for the service, and more if he should he detained beyond a fortnight. The Cap¬ tain undertook to attempt the passage, and immedi¬ ately made preparations for his departure. The vessel in which he embarked w 7 as about five hun¬ dred tons burden; with three others under his command, all navigated by black men, himself being the only European, except an officer, who went down as passenger to the army. He pushed on as far as Sadras, about sixteen leagues, where he took refuge under the Dutch flag, and dispatched two llirearrahs to Sir Eyre Coote, to inform him of his approach and to expect his orders; but the^roads were all so obstructed by Hyder’s horse, that to avoid the marauding army, the Hircarrahs were obliged to take a great circuit; and as they ventured to travel only by night, they were eleven days be¬ fore they returned. They brought from the Gen¬ eral, the most urgent orders to proceed, at all hazards, and without a moment’s delay; adding, that if the Captain brought only one vessel, and lost the rest, it would be of the most essential service. He ac¬ cordingly immediately weighed anchor, proceeding at such a distance from Pondicherry, as to see from the mast-head the French flag, and if possible, to pass them in the night undiscovered. The French fleet that very evening weighed anchor, occasioned by a singular circumstance, which was afterwards known. Suffrein had sent his water-casks on shore 1 * 14 MEMOIRS OF CAFTAIX WILSON* to be filled, and they lay on the beach. Sir Eyre Coote had detached a corps of grenadiers and light infantry, who entered Pondicherry, which was open on the land side, since the fortifications had been de¬ molished; they found and staved all the casks, de¬ stroying them entirely; and this induced Suffrein to run down to Point de Galle, to repair the loss, just at the moment when Capt. Wilson was passing in the offing. He informed the company of the seizure of his stores; they bid him prepare an account of them, and gave him a pagoda for every bottle of wine, and for the rest in proportion, so that this successful trip produced him about a thousand pounds, and a testi¬ mony of Sir Eyre Coote’s high satisfaction in the services which he had performed. Returning to Bengal, he continued to be employed in carrying down supplies: but as these voyages include nothing interesting, 1 shall only note his unfortunate capture by the French, when he was going with a very valuable cargo of military stores for Sir Edward Hughes, whose ammunition had been Ills EARLY YOUTH. 15 exhausted in the well known conflict with Suffrein. He was carried into Cuddalore, which had been taken by the French, and there he found the crew of the Hannibal in the same captivity. He was permitted, with other officers, to be at large on his parole, and hoped shortly to be exchanged. Hyder had at that time overrun and wasted great part of the Carnatic; and in conjunction with the French, after taking Cuddalore, hoped to expel the English from all that territory. He had lately de¬ feated Colonel Daily’s detachment, and made them prisoners, and used every effort to get as many of the English as possible into bis power, in order either to tempt them into his service, or to gratify his brutal¬ ity by exposing them to a lingering death. He had bribed Suffrein with three hundred thousand rupees, to surrender up to him all his prisoners at Cuddalore; and the order being communicated to the commander of the fort, nothing could exceed the indignation and grief which he and his officers testified at such an in¬ famous bargain. However as he dared not disobey the orders of his superior, he informed the gentlemen on parole of the transaction, and his necessity of de¬ livering them up the next day, to the escort appoint¬ ed to carry them to Seringapatam. Captain Wilson no sooner received the intelli¬ gence, than he determined that very night, if possible, to attempt his escape from a captivity which appear¬ ed to him worse than death. He had observed, as he walked the ramparts, the possibility of dropping down into the river; and though he neither knew the height of the wall, nor the width of the rivers which were to be crossed, before he could reach a neutral settlement, he determined to seize the mo¬ ment of delay and risk the consequences, whatever danger or difficulty might be in the way. He communicated his resolution to a brother officer and a Bengalese boy, his servant, who both resolved 16 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. to accompany him in his flight. It was concerted between them to meet on the ramparts, just before the guard was set, as it grew dark, and silently drop down from the battlement. Before tbe hour ap¬ pointed, hiscompanion’s heart failed him. Aboutsev- cn o’clock, he with his boy Toby, softly ascended the rampart unperceived, and the Captain leaping down, uncertain of the depth, pitched on his feet; but the shock of so great a descent, about forty feet, made bis chin strike against his knees, and tumbled him headlong into the river, which ran at the foot of the wall, and lie dreaded lest the noise of the dash into the water would discover him. He recovered him¬ self, however, as soon as possible, and returning to the foot of the wall, where there was a dry bank, bid the boy drop down and caught him safe in his arms. All that part of the Tanjore country is low and intersected with a number of rivers, branching off from the great Coleroon: these must all be necessa¬ rily crossed. He inquired, therefore, of the boy if he could swim; but found he could not. This was very embarrassing, but he resolved not to leave him be¬ hind, and therefore took him on his back, being an excellent swimmer, and carried him over. They pushed towards Porto Nuovo, about four leagues and a half from Cuddalore. They had passed three arms of the river, and advanced at as great a pace as they possibly could, to make use of the night, since their hope of safety depended chiefly on the distance they could reach before the morning light. Not far from Porto Nuovo, a seapoy centry challenged, AVho goes there? on which they shrunk back and concealed themselves, turning down to the river side. The river in that place was very wide, and being near the sea, the tide ran in w ith great rapidity. He took, however, the boy on his back, as he had done before, and bid him be sure to hold only by his HIS EARLY YOUTH. 17 hands and cast his legs behind him; hut when they came into the breakers, the boy was frightened, and clung around the Captain with his legs so fast as al¬ most to sink him. With difficulty he struggled with the waves, and turning back to the shore, found they must inevitably perish together if they thus at¬ tempted to proceed. Therefore setting the boy safe on land, he bid him go back to Doctor Mein, who would take care of him, but the poor lad has never since been heard of, though the most diligent in¬ quiries were made after him. As delay was death to him, he plunged again in the stream, and buffeting the waves, pushed for the opposite shore; but he found the tide running upwards so strong, that in spite of all his efforts, he was carried along with the current, and constrained at a considerable distance, to return to the same side of the river. Providential¬ ly, at the place where he landed, he discovered by the moonlight, dry on the beach, a canoe, which he immediately seized, and was drawing down to the river, when two black men rushed upon him and de¬ manded whither he was going with that boat. He seized the outrigger of the canoe as his only weapon of defence against the paddles which they had secur¬ ed, and told them he had lost his way; had urgent business to Tranquebar, and thither he must and would go; and launching with all his remaining strength, the canoe into the river; the good-natured Indians laid down their paddles on the shafts, and whilst he stood in the stern rowed him to the opposite shore./" He returned them many thanks, having nothing else to give them, and leaping on the beach, immediately pushed forward with all his might. He found he had as great a distance to pass to the Cole- roon as* he had already travelled, and therefore continued his course with full speed, the moon shining bright; and before break of day reached this largest arm of the river, of which those which he had 18 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. crossed were branches. Exhausted with the fatigue he had undergone, and dismayed with the width of this mighty stream, he stood for a moment hesitating on the brink; but the approach of morning, and the danger behind him being so urgent, he stretched out his arms to the flood, and pressed for the shore. How long he was in crossing he could not ascertain, for somewhat near the centre of the river, he came in contact with the mast of a ship, or a great tree floating with the stream, on this he reclined his hands and his head, in which perilous position, lie thought he must have slept by the way, from some confused remembrance as of a person awaking from a state of insensibility, which lie supposed had last¬ ed half an hour at least. However, with the light of the morning he had reached the land and flattered himself that all hisdangers werepassed and his liber¬ ty secured; when after passing a jungle which led to the sea-side, he ascended a sand-bank to look around him.—There to his terror and surprise, he perceived a party of Hyder’s horse scouring the coast, and be¬ ing discovered by them they galloped up to him; in a moment seized him and stripped him naked, unable to fly or resist, and tying his hands behind his back, fastened a rope to them, and thus drove him before them to the head-quarters, several miles distant, un¬ der a burning sun, and covered with blisters. He supposes he must have gone that night and day more than forty miles, beside all the rivers he had crossed. Jiut to what efforts will not the hope of life and liberty prompt? what sufferings and dangers will not men brave to secure them? yet these were but the beginning of his sorrows. The officer at the head-quarters was a Mahometan, one of Hyder’s chieftains. He interrogated*the poor prisoner sharply, who he was, whence he came, and whither going? Mr, Wilson gave him an ingenuous account of his escape from Cuddalore, and the rea- 11IS EARLY YOUTH. 19 sons for it, with all the circumstances attending his flight. The Moorman with wrath, looked at him and said Jute bat ,—“that is a lie,” as no man ever yet passed the Coleroon by swimming; for if he had but dipped the tip of his fingers in it, the alligators would have seized him. T he Captain assured him the truth was so, and gave him such indubitable evidence of the fact that he could no longer doubt the relation; when lifting up both his hands he cried out, Gouda ka Jldami! “this is God’s man.” So Caiaphas prophesied. He was indeed God’s man. The Lord had marked him for his own, though as yet he knew him not. He was immed%tely marched back, naked and blistered all over, to the former house of his prison, and in aggravated punishment for his flight, Hyder refused him permission to join his fellow officers, his former companions, and thrust him into a dun¬ geon among the meanest captives. Chained to a common soldier, he was next day led out, almost famished, and nearly naked, to march on foot to Seringapatam, in that burning climate, about 500 miles distant. The officers beheld his forlorn con¬ dition with great concern, unable to procure him any redress; but they endeavored to alleviate his misery by supplying him with immediate necessa¬ ries. One gave him a shirt, another a waistcoat, another stockings and shoes, so that he was once more covered and equipped fo» his toilsome journey. But the brutes, his conductors, had no sooner march¬ ed him off to the first halting fdace, than they again stripped him to the skin, and left him only a sorry rag to wrap round his middle. In this wretched state, chained to another fellow sufferer, under a vertical sun, with a scanty provi¬ sion of r ice only', he had to travel naked and bare¬ foot, five hundred miles, insulted by the brutes who goaded him on all the day, and at night thrust him 20 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. into a damp, unwholesome prison, crowded with other miserable objects. On their way they were brought into Hyder’s presence, and strongly urged to enlist in his service, and profess his religion, and thus obtain their liber¬ ty: to induce them to which, these horrible severi¬ ties were inflicted on them, and to escape these at any rate, some of the poor creatures consented. But the Captain rejected these offers with disdain; and though a stranger to a nobler principle, and desti¬ tute of all religion, so great a sense of honor im¬ pressed him, that he resolved to prefer death, with all its horrors, to desertion and Mahomedism. In various villages through whiclf they passed, in their long march, he was placed under cover, and exhibited to the country people as an object of cu¬ riosity, many of them never having seen a white man before. There he was forced to present him¬ self in all possible positions, and to display all the antics of which he was capable, that his conductors might obtain money from these poor villagers at the expense of their captive. In consequence of the dreadful nature of this march, exposed by day to the heat, and cooped up in a damp prison by night, without clothes, and almost without food, covered with sores, and the irons en¬ tering into his flesh, he was, in addition to all the rest of his sufferings, attacked with the flux; and how he arrived at Seringapatam alive, so weakened with disease, is wonderful. Yet greater miseries awaited him there—naked, diseased, and half starv¬ ed he was thrust into a noisome prison, destitute of food and medicine, with one hundred and fifty three fellow sufferers, chiefly Highlanders of Colonel Macleod’s regiment, men of remarkable size and vigor. The very irons which Colonel Baily had * worn, weighing thirty-two pounds, were fastened on him, and this peculiar rigor he was informed was HIS EARLY YOUTH. 21 the punishment for his daring to attempt an escape, as well as for his resolute rejection of all the tempt¬ ing offers made him. The other officers were at large, and among them was General Sir David Baird, so lately the avenger of their wrongs, when he stormed this very city. Poor Wilson was im¬ prisoned with the common soldiers, and chained to one of them night and day. It is hardly possible to express the scenes of un¬ varied misery, that for two and twenty months he suffered, in this horrible place. The prison was a square, round the walls of which was a kind of bar¬ rack for the guard. In the middle was a covered place open on all sides, exposed to the w ind and rain. There w ithout any bed but the earth, or cov¬ ering but the rags wrapped around him, he was chained to a feilow sufferer, and often so cold, that they have dug a hole in the earth, and buried them¬ selves in it. as some defence from the chilling blasts of the night. Their whole allowance was only a pound of rice a day per man, and one rupee for forty days, or one pice a-day, less than a penny, to provide salt and firing to cook their rice. It will hardly be believed, that it was among their eager employments to collect the white ants, which pestered them in the prison, and fry them, to pro¬ cure a spoonful or two of their buttery substance. A state of raging hunger was never appeased by an allowance scarcely able to maintain life; and the rice so full of stones, that he could not chew but must swallow it; and often (he said) he was afraid to trust his own fingers in his mouth, lest he should be tempted to bite them. Their rice was brought in a large bowl, containing the portion of a given num¬ ber; but that none might take more than his share, they provided themselves with a small piece of wood rudely formed into a spoon, which no one was suf¬ fered to use but in his turn; and such was the keen- 22 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. ness of hunger, and his eagerness to obtain the food, that his jaws often snapped the spoon by an involuntary motion, as though forced together by a spring. The noble and athletic Highlanders were among the first victims. The flux and dropsy daily dimin¬ ished their numbers. Often the dead corpse was unchained from his arm in the morning, that anoth¬ er living sufferer might take his place, and fall by the same diseases. How his constitution could en¬ dure such sufferings is astonishing. Yet he had recovered from the flux, which he carried into the prison, and for a year maintained a state of health beyond his fellows. At last worn down with misery, cold, hunger and nakedness, he was attacked with he usual symptoms of the disorder which had carried off so many others. His body was enormously dis¬ tended, his thighs as big as his waist was before, and Ills face exceedingly bloated. Death seemed to have seized him for his prey; but his heart was still insensible as the nether millstone. God was not in all his thoughts, and his conscience cauterized, as if made stupid by his sufferings, he was dying as the beast which perisheth. No humiliation, no prayer, no sense of sin, no recourse to a pardoning God, no care about an eternal world, he lay occupied only with the desire of life and hope of recovery. How he survived such accumulated misery, exhausted with famine and disease, the unwholesome vapours of a prison thickening around him, and the iron en¬ tering into his flesh is next to a miracle; but the days of man arc numbered. He is immortal even in the regions of the shadow of death, till his appointed time shall come. Reduced now to the extremity of weakness, his chains too strait to be endured, and threatening mor¬ tification, he seemed to touch the moment of his dissolution, and was released from them to lie down IIIS EARLY YOUTH. 23 and die. The soldier to whom he had been last chained, had served him with great affection, whilst others who had been linked together often quarrelled, and rendered mad by their sufferings, blasphemed and aggravated each other’s miseries. Seeing him thus to appearance near his end, and thinking it might alleviate his pain, Sam intreated he might spend for oil, the daily pice, about three farthings paid them, and anoint his legs, but the Captain ob¬ jected, that he should have nothing to buy firing and salt to cook the next day’s provisions. Sam shook his head, and said, “Master, before that 1 fear you will be dead and never want it,” but who can tell what a day may bring forth? lie had exchanged his allowance of rice that day for a small species of gram, called ratche pier, which he eagerly devoured, and being very thirsty, he drank the liquor in which it was boiled, and this produced such an amazing effect, that in the course of a few hours, his legs and thighs, and body, from being ready to burst, were reduced to a skeleton; and though greatly weaken* cd, he was completely relieved: and afterwards re¬ commended the trial with success to many of his fellow prisoners. Remedies are ahvays near, when God designs they should be so, and always effica¬ cious when Omnipotence applies them! His irons were now replaced by others less heavy: and being mere skin and bones they would slip over his knees, and leave his legs at liberty. The ravages of death had now thinned their ranks, and few remained the living monuments of Uyder Ally’s cruelty and malignity: nor w r ould these prob¬ ably have conflicted with their miseries many more months or days; but the victories of Sir Eyre Coote happily humbled this monster, and compelled him reluctantly to submit, as one of the conditions of peace, to the release of all the British captives. With these glad tidings, after they had spent twenty- 24 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. two months on the verge of the grave, Mr. Law, son of the Bishop of Carlisle, arrived at Seringa- patam, and to him the prison doors flew open: but w hat a scene presented itself! emaciated, naked, cov¬ ered with ulcers, more than half starved, only thirty- two remained out of one hundred and fifty-three brave men, to tell the dismal tale of the sufferings of their prison house. Their humane and compassionate deliverer imme¬ diately provided them with clothes, dressing for their wounds, and food for their hunger; but now their mercies threatened to be more fatal to them even than their miseries. The ravenousness of their appetite coord md be restrained; and though cautioned and warned against any excess, they de¬ voured tire meat provided with such keen avidity, that their stomachs, long unaccustomed to animal food, were incapable of digestion. Captain Wilson was one of the number who could not bridle his cravings. A large piece of beef w ? as assigned to him, the greater part of which he devoured with a voracious appetite, and the other part he placed un¬ der his pillow, with an intention to eat it the first moment he should wake; but the sad effects immedi¬ ately followed. He was seized that night with a violent fever, became delirious, and for a fortnight Itis life was despaired of. In his prison under suf¬ ferings more than human nature seemed capable of enduring he had struggled through, and for the most part enjoyed a state of health and strength, but now in the moment of liberty, joy and abundance, he received a stroke more severe than any he had before undergone. How little can \vc determine of the good or evil before us under the sun? He was a more wretched being surrounded by kind friends and every humane attention, than he had been when destitute, famished, covered with sores, and lying naked on the floor of a dungeon. But he who is the HIS EARLY YOUTH. 25 Lord of life and glory had determined he should not thus perish. When all human help had failed, the great physician who has the halm to heal the des¬ perate, rebuked the fever, restored his understand¬ ing, and raised him up once more from the dust of death; the eternal Source of mercy would not cut him off in the impenitence and hardness of his heart; he had grace in store for him and work prepared when the set time should come; and such work as w r as the farthest from every idea he had yet enter¬ tained. He was for this continued the living to praise him, but at that time, mercies had no more effect than miseries. His heart was yet hardened and he knew not the hand that healed him. The day of salvation was not yet arrived, nor the period of his chastisement closed. He returned to life and health with all the same corrupt propensities, the same unrenewed heart, the same forgetfulness of God and contempt of his word and commandments. No sufferings, not those of hell itself, can produce a salutary change: a sinner would come out of those flames the same as he entered them, unless the Spirit of love and power changed the heart of stone into a heart of flesh, and melted the obdurate into godly sorrow, working repentance unto salvation never to be repented of. The Captain often mentioned a remarkable in¬ stance of ingratitude, which used, while he was in India* to sting him to the heart. A gentleman of very large property fell overboard in -Bengal river, under such circumstances as that he must inevita¬ bly have been drowned, had not Mr. Wilson, then a very young man, plunged into the stream and res¬ cued him from the jaws of death. Although he must have known that Mr. Wilson had saved his life at the imminent risk of his own, not only from the al¬ most unparalleled rapidity of the current, but from the number of sharks and alligators in the river; #2 26 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. and though there were various methods by which he could have essentially served this young man for Ids prompt and generous conduct, yet he never express¬ ed his gratitude by any one act of generosity towards his deliverer. Captain Wilson knew well how to moralize on this base ingratitude, as being a crime not only against him but against society, as it tend¬ ed by its influence to check the benevolent heroism by which life is often saved. Yet he never, till after lie knew and felt the power of the Gospel, reflected on the vile ingratitude of his own heart, towards Him who had so often and so remarkably delivered him by his kind providence, when on the brink of death. Being now restored, and capable of accompany¬ ing his countrymen, he descended the Gauts, and proceeded on to Madras. Lord Macartney had for¬ warded a supply of clothes to meet them; but there not being a sufficiency for all, some had one thing and some another; to Capt. Wilson’s share, a very large military hat fell, which, with a banian and pantaloons, with many a breach in them, made his meagre figure very much resemble a maniac, im¬ patient to revisit his friends, he walked on from the last halting place, and the Gentries hardly would let him pass. He hastened to a friend whose name was Ellis, inquired of the servants for their master and mistress. The footmen stared at him, and said they were not at home, and were shutting the door against him,«when he pressed in, rushed by them, and threw himself down on a sofa. The servants were Mahometans, w ho hold the insane in much rev¬ erence, and such they supposed him: and without any violence used to remove him, Captain Wilson was permitted quietly to repose himself, and being tired, he fell into a most profound sleep; in which state his friends on their return found him, and hardly recognized him he was so altered. They Ills EARLY YOUTH. 27 left him thus sound asleep till the evening, when the lustres were lighted, and several friends assembled, curious to hear the story of his miserable captivity. When he awoke and saw the glaie of light and the persons around him, he could scarce recover his re¬ collection, and for a moment seemed as if he had dropped into some enchanted abode. The welcome and kind treatment of his friends who supplied all his wants, soon restored him to his former life and spirits; and he began to think of new service, as he had yet obtained but a scanty provision, which his long captivity had not much increased, though he received the arrears of his pay He accordingly shipped himself as first mate of the Intelligence* Captain Pennington for Bencoolen and Batavia. In his passage they were surrounded with water spouts, one of which was very near, and they fired to disperse it. The roaring was tremendous, and presently a torrent poured on the ship, which brought down with it many fish and sea weeds, yet the wa¬ ter was perfectly fresh, a phenomenon singularly curious. During this voyage, the white ants and cock¬ roaches with other insects multiplied in the most prodigious manner, so that it was resolved to run the ship down from Bencoolen to Puley Bay, and lay her completely under w ater to get rid of the vermin. After a fortnight, they pumped her dry* and the quantity destroyed of these creatures, with centipedes, three or four inches long, w as incredible. Bencoolen was a most unhealthy place, but Puley Bay, is the region of the shadow of death; from thence none escape without the putrid fever. Per¬ haps the wetness of the ship added not a little to the cause of mortality. Before they left the bay every man of the crew who w-as a European, except Wil¬ son, died. The Captain came down well on Chr ist¬ mas day and only dined on board, and returned the *8 MEMOIRS OF CAPTAIN WILSON. same night; the very next day he sickened and died. A recruit of black men was sent from Ben- coolen to navigate the vessel. The very day they sailed out of the harbor, Captain Wilson who had hitherto resisted the intemperature of the climate, and then commanded the vessel, was attacked with a fever. One Swede yet remained. He had al¬ ways accounted for the death of his companions, and imputed it to their imprudence. He had confi¬ dence he should escape. He was then at the helm going out of the harbor. The Captain, who though ill, kept the deck, observed the ship very badly steered, and called out. The Swede quitted the helm and sat down on the hen-coops. The Captain himself ran to the wheel to rectify the course, storm¬ ing at the man who had left the helm. He made no reply, but how great was his surprise when on going up to him he found him a corpse. The ship, however, visited Batavia, and arrived in Bengal; and though his health continued to suffer, the Captain made a very profitable voyage. 