The bay of Fort Royal was now
opened, and the view was extremely beautiful. Swinburne was still on the
carronade; and as I knew he had been there before, I applied to him for
information as to the _locale_. He told me the names of the batteries
above the town, pointed out Fort Edward and Negro Point, and
particularly Pigeon Island, the battery at the top of which wore the
appearance of a mural crown.
"It's well I remember that place, Mr Simple," said he. "It was in '94
when I was last here. The sodgers had 'sieged it for a whole month, and
were about to give it up, 'cause they couldn't get a gun up on that 'ere
hill you see there. So poor Captain Faulkner says, 'There's many a clear
head under a tarpaulin hat, and I'll give any chap five doubloons that
will hitch up a twenty-four pounder to the top of that hill.' Not quite
so easy a matter, as you may perceive from here, Mr Simple."
"It certainly appears to me to have been almost impossible, Swinburne,"
replied I.
"And so it did to most of us, Mr Simple; but there was one Dick Smith,
mate of a transport, who had come on shore, and he steps out, saying,
'I've been looking at your men handling that gun, and my opinion is,
that if you gets a butt, crams in a carronade, well woulded up, and fill
it with old junk and rope yarns, you might parbuckle it up to the very
top.' So Captain Faulkner pulls out five doubloons, and gives them to
him, saying, 'You deserve the money for the hint, even if it don't
succeed.
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