SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.

Repairs from the Downs to London—Receives all his Arrears of Pay—Indiscreet Expenditure—Personal Appearance and Manners—Visits his Friends—Affecting Interview—Mental Improvement—Superintends a Grocery Concern in Plymouth—Marries—Commences Business for himself—Forms other Engagements—Wreck of the Dutton East Indiaman—Employed as a Diver on the occasion—Repairs to Wales—Sails in a Privateer—Revisits Wales—Dangerous Passage—Returns to Plymouth—Manages some Mines—Illness and Death—Conclusion.

Thus far the narrative of this unfortunate adventurer has been written by himself; and, with some trifling variations, the account has been given in his own language, not only with respect to his personal sufferings, and the fate of others, but as his details relate to the capture and riches of Seringapatam. The remaining particulars have been collected from the statements of his widow and son, and partially from detached papers.

On landing at the Downs, Mr. Scurry and his companions repaired to London, where the singularity of their dress, their manners, and their colour, so far excited attention, that they were followed by troops of boys, as objects of curiosity. On appealing to the proper authorities, and giving proof of their identity, all arrears of pay, from the time of their capture to their return, were instantly paid. Mr. Scurry also obtained a pension of £7 per annum, which was continued for several years. It was afterwards augmented to £18. which he retained through life. Being thus amply supplied with cash, their prodigality increased with their resources, and, like true British sailors, a considerable portion was squandered away in thoughtless extravagance. On one occasion, Mr. Scurry attended a sale, and laid out about forty pounds in articles, of which he scarcely knew either the quantity, the use, or the names. His lot was, however, packed up altogether, and forwarded to Devonshire, to which place he also after some time repaired.

From his long confinement in India, and his involuntary conformity to Asiatic manners, he had nearly forgotten the customs of his early years, and the delicate refinements of his native land. To the wearing of English clothes he felt the greatest aversion; nor could he even sit, except according to the manner to which he had been so long accustomed. Of a knife and fork he had almost lost the use, nor could he eat any thing with comfort, only in the style to which stern necessity had compelled him to submit. His language was broken and confused, having lost nearly all its vernacular idiom. His body was disfigured with scars; and his skin was likewise so deeply tinged with the heat of the climate in which he had so long resided, and by the rays of the sun, to which he had been so much exposed, that it was only a few shades removed from black. It so nearly resembled the swarthy complexion of the negroes, that he might have passed through Africa without being at all noted for the singularity of his colour. These combined peculiarities exposed him to several inconveniences, and brought upon him many an eager gaze, and many a curious inquiry, and pointed observation.

On leaving London, he travelled by coach to Exeter, to visit his friends, but stopping at an inn on the road to dine, instead of conforming to the customs of his fellow-travellers, he followed those which he had been obliged to adopt in Asia, to the no small amusement of his companions, and the equal astonishment of the people belonging to the house. His bones, offal, and rejected food, without ceremony were thrown on the floor, no regard being paid either to company or carpets; and when admonished of the impropriety of his conduct, his inattention to the hints which were given, and perseverance in domestic irregularity, only served to confirm those who witnessed his singularities, that he was either deranged, or some foreigner totally unacquainted with the refinements of civilized life. A British sailor, however, in any disguise, if flowing with money, can easily make his peace with a waiter at an inn, and metamorphose a frowning aspect into a smiling countenance.

On reaching Exeter, he learned that his mother, and sister Dannan with her husband, were living at Porlock. Thither he repaired; and, that he might reach this place in a style suited to his purse, he entered it in a chaise drawn by four horses, and drove immediately to their door. Surprised at this equipage, his sister first appeared, of whom, on putting his head out of the window, he inquired if Mrs. Scurry lived there, and was within? He was answered, that this was the place of her abode, but that just then she was not within. He then requested that she might be called, but could scarcely restrain his impatience during the absence of the messenger. On his mother’s arrival, he inquired whether she had not a son in India? She replied, that she once had a son there, but not having heard from him for many years, she concluded he was dead. This latter was a point which he seemed to doubt, but his mother was not to be dissuaded from a belief which she had so long indulged.

While this conversation was carrying on, his sister, Mrs. Dannan, who was listening with much attention, and viewing this stranger with eagerness, imagined that she could discover, amidst the scars of conflict, the effects of an equinoctial sun, and the furrows of distress, some remnants of features that had once been familiar. Full of this persuasion, she hailed him as her long-lost brother, nor did he keep her in any tedious suspense. His mother, however, was not so easily convinced. She had concluded that her son was dead, and the appearance of this stranger was not calculated to remove the unfavourable impression. But the chaise and four being dismissed, his mother’s unbelief gave way, and mutual recognition and joy succeeded to the astonishment that had been excited.

Having, during his long absence, and the scenes of distress through which he was called to pass, lost nearly all his European acquirements, Mr. Scurry turned his attention to learning for nearly two years, improving himself in writing and arithmetic, under the tuition of his brother-in-law at Porlock. During this period, he made such proficiency, as qualified him to engage in mercantile employment, in such departments as might probably present themselves.

On quitting his brother-in-law, he repaired to Plymouth, and entered into an engagement with Mr. Andrew Kinsman, a wholesale grocer of that place, and superintended his business. With this gentleman, and another named Harvey, he continued from about 1795 until 1799. He then took a house in Frankfort Place, and commenced business as a grocer for himself. In the following year he married, since which time he has had eight children, of whom one son and one daughter only survive.

It is somewhat remarkable, that while he was engaged with Mr. Kinsman, the Dutton, in which he had returned from India some years before, was wrecked near Plymouth garrison, and sunk. The hull, lying under water, was purchased by Mr. Kinsman and a Mr. Andrew Snow; and as Mr. Scurry was an excellent swimmer, and perhaps at that time the best diver in England, he offered his services to assist them in endeavouring to rescue all that they could find from the wreck, which lay about three fathoms under water. After much hesitation, they consented that he should make a trial. A day was accordingly appointed, when, amidst numbers of spectators, he succeeded in hooking some pigs of ballast, and part of her timbers, thus at once gratifying their eager curiosity, and the anxious expectations of his employers. This attempt was made a few months after she sunk. Finding, however, after several ineffectual efforts, that nothing of considerable value was likely to be obtained, the remains were sold, about two years afterwards, to a Mr. Joseph, a rich Jew, for ten pounds. As soon as this transfer took place, Mr. Scurry received a polite note from the new purchaser, requesting him to try once more to rescue something from the sunken ship. With this request he complied; but on his descent, he found that the Dutton was now five fathoms beneath the surface of the water. In this attempt he succeeded in bringing up some of her copper sheathing, and some timber; but the former was so corroded, and the latter so much decayed, that no encouragement was held out to perseverance. Her guns were by this time sunk in the sand; and as nothing promised to reward their exertions, all further efforts were abandoned.

Mr. Scurry continued his business as a grocer on his own account, from 1799 until 1804, when, on an application being made by Messrs. Fuge and Langmead, spirit merchants, of Plymouth, to travel for their house, he surrendered the management of his own concerns to his wife, still taking orders for goods as he prosecuted his journeys. In this situation he continued from 1804 to 1812, when, on discovering some irregularities, he quitted their employment, and formed an engagement with a Mr. Slade, of Plymouth, under whom he went to Swansea to manage a colliery. Shortly afterwards, Mr. Slade having fitted out a privateer to cruise in the Bay of Biscay, and knowing Mr. Scurry to be both expert and enterprising in maritime affairs, he sent for him to go out as steward, and to keep a watchful eye over the concerns of the vessel. Accordingly, in the year 1813, he repaired again to Plymouth, and sailed in the Cerberus privateer, commanded by Captain Tregotheth. He continued in this vessel about four months, during which time they took one prize, for his share of which he received £18. Returning from their cruise, they put into Fowey, in Cornwall, where he received a letter from Mr. Slade, stating that his son, James Scurry, was then on the point of death, and having a particular desire to see his father, requested his immediate attendance for a day or two. In consequence of this letter, he hastened to Plymouth, where he arrived on the 12th of April, 1813; and his son died on the 24th. Scarcely had he left the vessel, before the captain, without receiving any orders, again put to sea, and, on the day after he left Fowey, the Cerberus was captured by a French privateer, and carried to France.

In 1814, he again went to Swansea, under Mr. Slade, and on their voyage from Ilfracombe to Wales the vessel was nearly lost. In the midst of their distress, the captain grew dispirited, and the panic was communicated to the passengers and the men. In this emergency, Mr. Scurry’s native energies were all called into action, and such was the confidence which his example and precepts inspired, that they were roused from their lethargy, and, by unremitting exertions, succeeded in reaching the port. Having, in the course of his journeys, discovered some clay of a very superior quality, he visited Worcester, London, and some other places, with a design to procure a market, but the supplies of clay being more abundant than the demand for porcelain, his efforts proved unsuccessful. Early in 1815, he again returned to Plymouth, and once more engaged himself with Messrs. Langmeads, Mr. Fuge being now no longer connected with the concern. Here he continued until the death of Mr. John Langmead, when, being in want of a situation, he repaired to London early in 1816, and engaged himself at a coal wharf, where he continued about three years.

Having obtained some knowledge of mining, he was several times sent into his native county by the adventurers, to inspect various works in which they had become speculators. During these journeys he was occasionally exposed to the inclemencies of winter, which in all probability sapped the foundation of a strong constitution, that had so long sustained the rigour of the torrid zone. In the autumn of 1822, being on a journey to Devonshire, to superintend a mine in the neighbourhood of Buckfastleigh, he took a severe cold, by which he was laid up at Exeter. This was followed by an inflammation, and this was succeeded by a mortification, of which he died, aged 57, at the house of his sister Dannan, whose husband being a port-gauger of that city, had removed thither some years before. He was buried at St. Thomas’s, near Exeter, December 14th, 1822.

In justice to the memory of Mr. Scurry, it ought to be stated, that for a considerable time prior to his death, his mind had received serious impressions, which his subsequent conduct proved to be both deep and lasting. This circumstance gives an additional weight to the truth of his narrative—a narrative that might be deemed incredible from the miseries which it records, were it not supported by strong internal evidence, and corroborated by numerous testimonies drawn from the same unhappy source. To the eye of cool and dispassionate reflection, the world presents a spectacle of devastation and horror. Innumerable miseries arise from physical causes, and the present disordered state of things; and these, unhappily, are at once augmented and eclipsed by national hostilities, and the contentions of ambition for empire in fields of blood.

War is a monster, of which the portrait cannot be drawn in miniature. The shocks which the roaring of its cannon occasions in Europe, are felt in the interior of India; and its visits to the kingdoms of Asia are more terrible to the inhabitants than the irruptions of the lions and tigers which roam through their forests, or couch in their jungles. Its inhumanities and massacres extend from the cottage to the throne, and involve in one common destruction the despot and the slave. Of the desolations which it occasions, enough is known to excite the abhorrence and execration of mankind; but that innumerable instances of its barbarities lie concealed in impenetrable obscurity, we may reasonably infer from the mournful cases that are accidentally brought to light. The death of the victim seals up, in perpetual silence, the history of his sufferings; and even those tales of horror that are rescued from oblivion, can do little more than extort the sigh of commiseration, and urge humanity to shed her tears. The biography of James Scurry is an instance of this description. It merits preservation by its simplicity, and cannot fail to recompense the reader by the interesting facts which it records. It is one of those tales which presents its claims alike to justice and compassion; and the writer of these paragraphs feels much gratification in having made this effort to transmit the memorial of his sufferings to posterity.

THE END

London:

H. FISHER, 38, NEWGATE-STREET.

Footnotes:

Transcriber’s note:

Variations in spelling have been retained.

Page 96, full stop inserted after ‘fell,’ “hand before he fell.”

Page 118, ‘possiblity’ changed to ‘possibility,’ “was no possibility of”

Page 125, full stop deleted after ‘Native,’ “a Fanatical Native—Visited”

Page 176, ‘pady’ changed to ‘paddy,’ “to a paddy, or rice”

Page 218, full stop deleted after ‘City,’ “in the City—Many of”

Page 230, closing quote inserted after ‘beauty,’ “in form and beauty.””