the return of bolivar's aide-de-camp

Irish Jesuit Province

The Return of Bolivar's Aide-de-CampAuthor(s): Morgan O'ConnellSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 15, No. 165 (Mar., 1887), pp. 160-165Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20497532 .

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( 160 )

THE RETURN OF BOLIVAR'S AIDE-DE-CAMP.

BY MORGAN O'CONNELL.

[THE manuscript from which the following narrative is printed was written by the Liberator's second son, Morgan O'Connell, so short a time before his death as the year 1878. In some interest

ing " Reminiscences of O'Connell " which the late Francis

Morgan published a little before that date in The Freeman's Journal, he said:-" During the visit of George IV. to Dublin, in 1821, I remember O'Connell, dressed In a green or blue frock coat, coronation gilt buttons, doeskin pantaloons, and Hessian

boots, riding his grand gray horse, Bolivar." The name Bolivar would have no special significance now-a-days. A curious article, by the way, might be written on the historical associations of the

Racing Calendar, explaiDing why at certain dates certain names

were assigned to horses. In the present instance O'Connell's choice of a name for his gray steed was another proof of his devotion to the famous leader of the South American War of

Independence. We have already seen him exemplify it in a more

serious matter. In April, 1883 (" IRISai MONTHLY," Vol. Xi, page 225), we published in the Tenth Part of " The O'Connell Papers "

from the original draft in O'Counell's large, manly handwriting, a

letter in which he recommended his son, Morgan, to General

Simon Bolivar. It shows the chivalrous spirit of both father and son, that a lad of fifteen or sixteen years should be launched on

such a career. After serving as aide-de-camp to the Liberator of

Colombia, and struggling through two serious attacks of sickness, the young Irishman turned his face homeward. But those were

comparatively wild times and wild places, and his return was

impeded by sundry misadventures. Of these, in his old age, he

drew up the following account which he wished to be published in

the Magazine which he had enriched with O'Connell's unpub lished papers. This little trust has remained too long unful filled.-ED. L l.]

In the last days of August, 1821, I sailed from Maracaibo in the

brig Orion, hailing from New York, commanded by Captain Peter

Storm, and manned by seven or eight Yankee sailors, one English



The Return of Botivar's Aide-de-camp. 161

man, and a mulatto cook. We were bound for New York, and my intention was to catch tho English packet there, andc so home to Merrion-square. I was then seveniteen years old. We had roughish weather in the Gulf of Maracaibo. Some of the sailors had brought two small monkeys on board, and these are considered unlucky passengers. They had not much luck themselves, poor creatures. One of them fell overboard a few days after we started, and the other kept up persistently a most dismal wail till we lost him in his turn. A small jolly-boat hung over the stern, in which I was fond of sitting with a book: but fortunately the mourning monkey had taken my place one day when a large swell rising up to our taffrail lifted the boat off the hooks, and it was soon far astern with the poor little monkey. We watched it till out of sight.

Our captain, in a hurry to get home, chose the route over the Great Bank of Bahama, the shorter way but the more -risky from the chance of running aground on the small, sandy islands or " keys," as the sailors call them. We had not long to wait for

them. Early on the 3rd of September, a raw nasty day, I was

awakened by a terrific noise and a shock that nearly flung me out

of my berth. The skipper was below at the time, and the mate roared down to him, "t we are ashore." We rushed on deck. Nearly

pitch dark, but for the foam of the breakers all around us, and

sometimes dashing furiously over us. The first cry was to cut away

the masts. Then the ship heeled over ancd after some thumping settled down quietly. Sheltering ourselves as well as we could in the after-cabin, we waited for daylight. Strange to say, the con

versation turned on all the shipwrecks the crew had heard of or in

which they had taken part. The reef on which we had struck was very low, for even at low water no rocks appeared. As the

day cleared, we could perceive a couple of low sandy islands about three miles from the ship and a mile asunder. It seemed we were

on the Great Bank of Bahama, though the captain had imagined we were near Cape Maize Island, but he had not reckoned suffi ciently for a strong current in those waters. The mate took one

of the boats on an exploring expedition, and in due time returned with the report that the nearest island on which they had landed

was all sand, covered towards the centre with a brownish

scrub, was alive with sea fowl, especially gulls, called boobies, so tame that they might be caught by the hand. There was

no water on the island. We proceeded to convey thither eat

ables and drinkables enough, and spars and sails to construct a rude VoL. xv. No. 165. 13



162 The Return of Bolivar's Aide-de-camp.

tent. During these operations I recollect one of the Yankees spoke to me harshly without (I think) any provocation, saying something about there being no difference between gentlemen and sailors then. But the British tar stood to me well, and indeed that was the only bit of incivility I met with all through.

We found a lot of conch fish on the shore, which were quite as good to eat as lobster, and very large; and we killed as many boobies as we required, which the cook parboiled in salt water, and then stewed in fresh water. This was our general practice, in order to save our ship's meat as much as possible for what might lie before us.

We remained on the island seven days, during which the weather was fine, and no injury done to the ship, which was extremely strong and well built. Of couirse, we were on a constant look out for a passing vessel. We saw one or two small craft but made no

sign lest they should turn out to be wreckers, with which those seas swarmed at that time. At last it was resolved that we shoulcl take to the larger boat and try to reach Matanzas, on the Island of

Cuba-three days' boat sailing, as we calculated, but we were much below the mark. The captain thought it would be safer and easier for me to remain on the island, as we were sure to be rescued before provisions could begin to run short; but I insisted on going with him. A night's rain and the ship's store had given us plenty of

water. In the boat we took with us a couple of demijohns of

water and one of wine, with enough food to last us many days

seven of us in all, cook, the English sailor, myself, the captain, and three of the hands. I, at least, was in the best of spirits. I

often wonder how all this time, or in the ten days we spent in the

boat, I was never much alarmed, and did not pray as I ought

though I prayed a little. Perhaps I thought the prayers of a wild

young scamp like me could not be much worth; and then I had a dear sainted mother at home praying for her poor boy, and it was

her prayers that saved me, I am sure. May she rest in eternal

peace! .On my return home I learned how constant were her

prayers, and how many Masses she had got offered up for me.

Our first four or five days in the boat the sea was as calm as

possible, and yet we had wind enough. After that the weather

changed; but our skipper was a practised boat-sailor, having during the New Orleans war been employed in whale-boat service along the American coast, as the British cruisers prevented the

employment of larger craft. Our boat was a bigger build than usual, beingy intended chiefly for the shipping and unshipping of



['he Letur-n of Bolivar's Aide-de-camp. 163

cargo; and at present, in addition to her seven castaways, sihe, carried large chests between the thwarts, which served as ballast and steadied her in the heavy sea.

We evidently had lost our -zay. Oar provisions were reduced to the wine and one small bag of biscuits. When night came on, fearing we might be too near land, the boat was brought to (so to

say), by heavv leads lashed to two spars, placed crosswise over her

bow with somefifty fathom of line attached, which kept her from drifting to any great extent during the night. Strange to say, I slept soundly during that night, wrapped in a large camlet cloak, lined with red woollen baize, which kept me quite snug. I dreamt I was at home and sitting at a side-table during dinner, being reproved for some fault by my dear father-when I was awakened

bv the captain who pointed out a line of high white breakers dash

ing against the cliffs now plainly discernible in the gray light of the morning. He called on the men to keep the boat off till we could see where to run her in, if possible. Cuba is for the most part an iron-bound coast, circled by large cliffs, inside which is generally a girdle of jungle before you reach any human habitation. After hours of apprehension we perceived to our great joy an opening in the rocks, some fifty or sixty feet wide, for which the sailors made with all their strength and skill, and a landing

was effected-on San Domingo, we thought at the time, but

wrongly. For, next morning, we espied a pig and her two young

ones, coming down to the shore to eat land-crabs; and presently that is, some hours after, for we had had time to kill and cook one

of the foraging party-a man came in search of his pigs, and from

him, without enlightening him as to the fate of his property, I, as the only Spaniard of the company, elicited the information that

we were in the island of Cuba, and only a couple of days' sail from

the second large city, San Jago del Cuba. Fearing that our new

friend might raise the country against us, we very quickly re-em barked, and without further incident foaund ourselves under the huge cliffs at the entrance of the harbour of San Jago, and hailed by the

sentries at the fortress on the right to give ourselves up to be

examined. I accompanied the captain, and we agreed to furnish an account of ourselves which would be more likely to make these Spniards propitious than if we told them where we really came from: for this was just after the decisive battle of Carabobo, in

which Bolivar had beaten the Spanish armny, and concluded an

armistice which left Colombia free. The Governor accepted our explanations and dismissed us without any more annoyance. While



164 The Return of Bolivar's Aide-de-camp.

the captain was seeking out the American Consul, a stranger accosted me and asked was my name O'Connell, and was I not a son

of the great Irishman ? Yes. Had I ever been at Derrynane and

seen my grand-uncle ? Well, this turned out to be Charles O'Connell of Ballybrack, whom my grand-uncle had fitted out for America to seek his fortune. He was now owner of a file schooner alongside and was to start for New York in a week. He offered me a berth, and then a free passage to Europe in the spring, if I did not cross the Atlantic sooner, as he would then be going to Bordeaux with

his only child (a daughter). I gladly accepted the first part of my kinsman's, kind proposal. That evening the American Consul enter tained some ten or twelve of us at dinner; and O'Connell after

wards went to his ship to see to the final arrangements for sailing. He got into some altercation with his mate, an Italian, who assaulted him furiously, and, after stabbing him ancd trampling on him, leaped overboard. Whether he swam ashore and hid

himself, or was drowned, I cannot tell, but nothing had been heard of him when I left the place. As soon as we heard of

the affair, we rushed to O'Connell and found him, as it seemed,

not fatally wounded but dreadfully excited. He was brought to his hotel and attended to; but, later on, cries were heard from his

room. He was writhing in agony, and it was concluded that he

must have been seriously injured internally. He expired the next

morning without having recovered sufficiently to give any direc tions or express his wishes.

Probably this shocking incident brought my name under the notice of another Irishman who chanced to be there at the time,

for the next day or the day after a gentleman introduced himself

to me as a Mr. Wood, from Cork. He had known my uncle, John

O'Connell, and other members of my family. He had passed for

a lieatenancy in the British navy, but refusing to take some

religious oath that was compulsory at the time he had been refused

a commission. He then entered the mercantile service in Holland, and was at that time the owner of a fine brig, 7he Fox, with a crew

of some twenty men, and armed with about six guns. He was to leave in a couple of days for Cumberlanld Harbour on the Cuban coast, where he was to take in cargo,and then sail to [Mr. O'Connell

left here a blank which he omitted to fill in, probably hoping to

recall the name afterwards]. He undertook to go as near as he

could to the entrance of Port Royal in Jamaica, and to land me

there. He seemed such a good sort of fellow that I at once took

him at his word; and he kept it well. We spent nearly a fortnight



The Return of Bolivar's Aide-de-cam}p. 16.5

at Cumberland Harbour, taking in cargo. One morning we were rather startled at seeing a great slashing clipper, fully as large as a sloop of war, and mounting some twenty guns, under South

American colours (Columbian) come into harbour and anchor not far from us. Wood did not seem to like the look of the new

comer. Presently she sent out a boat, full of armed men, com

manded by an officer. We were all a little nervous as the boat

approached. When Wood hailed them and asked them what they wanted, the officer stood up and said: " to see your papers." All at once I recognised Chitty, whom I had seen some four months before at Santa Marta, then, as he was still, a lieutenant in the Colombian'navy. It ended in our being invited to spend the day on board the Sentinelle.

We sailed the next day; and, after being knocked about some forty-eight hours, we arrived off Port Royal harbour. In these days the West Indian islands were closed against all non-British ships except those in distress, so the mate, and 1, and my port

manteau were placed in a small flat-bottomed boat late in the evening, and he paddled me ashore so as to escape the notice of the

men-of-war. I installed myself at a tavern kept by a French mulatto, called Jean Ferrand, right glad to be again under the

protection of the British flag. I never heard from Wood, though

he promised to write to me. Ten years afterwards some friend

told me he had been lost with all hands in the Gulf of Mexico

soon after the trip in which he had befriended me. Mlay God

have --been merciful to him! He was a first-rate good fellow, and

no mistake.

[The prayer which the writer of this little sketch offers up for others in the course of it may, with the surest confidence, be

offered up for himself. I had the privilege of seeing much of him in the closing years of his life. He was a most amiable

man, full of tender piety and ardent faith. His holy death took place on the 20th of January, 1885, in his eightieth year. May

he rest in peace.]



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