<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1 style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 3em;"><span style="font-size: smaller">WONDERFUL</span><br/> <br/> ADVENTURES OF MRS. SEACOLE<br/> <br/> IN MANY LANDS</h1>
<h2 style="padding-bottom: 3em;">EDITED BY W. J. S.</h2>
<p class="center"><b>WITH AN INTRODUCTORY PREFACE</b><br/>
<br/>
<b>BY</b></p>
<h3>W. H. RUSSELL, ESQ.,</h3>
<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 5em;"><b>THE “TIMES” CORRESPONDENT IN THE CRIMEA.</b></p>
<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 3em;">LONDON:<br/>
JAMES BLACKWOOD, PATERNOSTER ROW.<br/>
1857.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/seacole01.png" width-obs="700" height-obs="611" alt="" /> <span class="caption">MRS. SEACOLE’S HOTEL IN THE CRIMEA.</span></div>
<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 3em;">LONDON:<br/>
THOMAS HARRILD, PRINTER, 11, SALISBURY SQUARE,<br/>
FLEET STREET.</p>
<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em;">DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION,<br/>
<br/>
TO<br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">MAJOR-GENERAL LORD ROKEBY, K.C.B.,</span><br/>
<br/>
BY HIS LORDSHIP’S<br/>
<br/>
HUMBLE AND MOST GRATEFUL SERVANT,<br/>
<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 10em;">MARY SEACOLE.</span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>TO THE READER.</h2>
<p>I should have thought that no preface would have
been required to introduce Mrs. Seacole to the British
public, or to recommend a book which must, from
the circumstances in which the subject of it was
placed, be unique in literature.</p>
<p>If singleness of heart, true charity, and Christian
works; if trials and sufferings, dangers and perils,
encountered boldly by a helpless woman on her
errand of mercy in the camp and in the battle-field,
can excite sympathy or move curiosity, Mary Seacole
will have many friends and many readers.</p>
<p>She is no Anna Comnena, who presents us with
a verbose history, but a plain truth-speaking woman,
who has lived an adventurous life amid scenes which
have never yet found a historian among the actors
on the stage where they passed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</SPAN></span>
I have witnessed her devotion and her courage;
I have already borne testimony to her services to all
who needed them. She is the first who has redeemed
the name of “sutler” from the suspicion of worthlessness,
mercenary baseness, and plunder; and I
trust that England will not forget one who nursed
her sick, who sought out her wounded to aid and
succour them, and who performed the last offices for
some of her illustrious dead.</p>
<p style="text-align: right; margin-right: 8em;">W. H. RUSSELL.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of Contents">
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">My Birth and Parentage—Early Tastes and Travels—Marriage,
and Widowhood</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_I">1</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">Struggles for Life—The Cholera in Jamaica—I leave Kingston
for the Isthmus of Panama—Chagres, Navy Bay, and Gatun—Life
in Panama—Up the River Chagres to Gorgona and Cruces</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_II">6</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">My Reception at the Independent Hotel—A Cruces Table d’Hôte—Life
in Cruces—Amusements of the Crowds—A Novel Four-post Bed</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_III">17</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">An Unwelcome Visitor in Cruces—The Cholera—Success of the
Yellow Doctress—Fearful Scene at the Mule-owner’s—The
Burying Parties—The Cholera attacks me</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_IV">23</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">American Sympathy—I take an Hotel in Cruces—My Customers—Lola
Montes—Miss Hayes and the Bishop—Gambling in
Cruces—Quarrels amongst the Travellers—New Granadan
Military—The Thieves of Cruces—A Narrow Escape</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_V">34</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</SPAN></span>CHAPTER VI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">Migration to Gorgona—Farewell Dinners and Speeches—A Building
Speculation—Life in Gorgona—Sympathy with American
Slaves—Dr. Casey in Trouble—Floods and Fires—Yankee Independence
and Freedom</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_VI">46</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">The Yellow Fever in Jamaica—My Experience of Death-bed
Scenes—I leave again for Navy Bay, and open a Store there—I
am attacked with the Gold Fever, and start for Escribanos—Life
in the Interior of the Republic of New Granada—A
Revolutionary Conspiracy on a small scale—The Dinner
Delicacies of Escribanos—Journey up the Palmilla River—A
Few Words on the Present Aspect of Affairs on the Isthmus
of Panama</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_VII">59</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">I long to join the British Army before Sebastopol—My Wanderings
about London for that purpose—How I failed—Establishment
of the Firm of “Day and Martin”—I Embark for Turkey</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_VIII">73</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">Voyage to Constantinople—Malta—Gibraltar—Constantinople,
and what I thought of it—Visit to Scutari Hospital—Miss
Nightingale</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_IX">82</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">“Jew Johnny”—I Start for Balaclava—Kindness of my old
Friends—On Board the “Medora”—My Life on Shore—The
Sick Wharf</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_X">92</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</SPAN></span>CHAPTER XI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">Alarms in the Harbour—Getting the Stores on Shore—Robbery
by Night and Day—The Predatory Tribes of Balaclava—Activity
of the Authorities—We obtain leave to erect our
Store, and fix upon Spring Hill as its Site—The Turkish
Pacha—The Flood—Our Carpenters—I become an English
Schoolmistress Abroad</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XI">102</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">The British Hotel—Domestic Difficulties—Our Enemies—The
Russian Rats—Adventures in Search of a Cat—Light-fingered
Zouaves—Crimean Thieves—Powdering a Horse</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XII">113</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">My Work in the Crimea</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XIII">124</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">My Customers at the British Hotel</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XIV">135</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XV.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">My First Glimpse of War—Advance of my Turkish Friends on
Kamara—Visitors to the Camp—Miss Nightingale—Mons.
Soyer and the Cholera—Summer in the Crimea—“Thirsty
Souls”—Death busy in the Trenches</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XV">146</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">Under Fire on the fatal 18th of June—Before the Redan—At
the Cemetery—The Armistice—Deaths at Head-quarters—Depression
in the Camp—Plenty in the Crimea—The Plague
of Flies—Under Fire at the Battle of the Tchernaya—Work
on the Field—My Patients</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XVI">154</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</SPAN></span>CHAPTER XVII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">Inside Sebastopol—The Last Bombardment of Sebastopol—On
Cathcart’s Hill—Rumours in the Camp—The Attack on the
Malakhoff—The Old Work again—A Sunday Excursion—Inside
“Our” City—I am taken for a Spy, and thereat
lose my Temper—I Visit the Redan, etc.—My Share of the
Plunder</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XVII">167</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVIII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">Holiday in the Camp—A New Enemy, Time—Amusements in
the Crimea—My share in them—Dinner at Spring Hill—At
the Races—Christmas-Day in the British Hotel—New
Year’s Day in the Hospital</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">177</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIX.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdl">New Year in the Crimea—Good News—The Armistice—Barter
with the Russians—War and Peace—Tidings of Peace—Excursions
into the Interior of the Crimea—To Simpheropol,
Baktchiserai, etc.—The Troops begin to leave the Crimea—Friends’
Farewells—The Cemeteries—We remove from
Spring Hill to Balaclava—Alarming Sacrifice of our Stock—A
last Glimpse of Sebastopol—Home!</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_XIX">188</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tdlsc">Conclusion</td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#CONCLUSION">197</SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</SPAN></span></p>
<h1 style="padding-bottom: 3em;">ADVENTURES OF MRS. SEACOLE<br/> <br/> IN MANY LANDS.</h1>
<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></SPAN>CHAPTER I.</h2>
<div class="chaptop">
<p>MY BIRTH AND PARENTAGE—EARLY TASTES AND TRAVELS—MARRIAGE,
AND WIDOWHOOD.</p>
</div>
<p>I was born in the town of Kingston, in the island of
Jamaica, some time in the present century. As a female,
and a widow, I may be well excused giving the precise
date of this important event. But I do not mind confessing
that the century and myself were both young together,
and that we have grown side by side into age and consequence.
I am a Creole, and have good Scotch blood
coursing in my veins. My father was a soldier, of an old
Scotch family; and to him I often trace my affection for a
camp-life, and my sympathy with what I have heard my
friends call “the pomp, pride, and circumstance of glorious
war.” Many people have also traced to my Scotch blood
that energy and activity which are not always found in
the Creole race, and which have carried me to so many
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</SPAN></span>
varied scenes: and perhaps they are right. I have often
heard the term “lazy Creole” applied to my country people;
but I am sure I do not know what it is to be indolent. All
my life long I have followed the impulse which led me to
be up and doing; and so far from resting idle anywhere, I
have never wanted inclination to rove, nor will powerful
enough to find a way to carry out my wishes. That these
qualities have led me into many countries, and brought me
into some strange and amusing adventures, the reader, if
he or she has the patience to get through this book, will
see. Some people, indeed, have called me quite a female
Ulysses. I believe that they intended it as a compliment;
but from my experience of the Greeks, I do not consider it
a very flattering one.</p>
<p>It is not my intention to dwell at any length upon the
recollections of my childhood. My mother kept a boarding-house
in Kingston, and was, like very many of the Creole
women, an admirable doctress; in high repute with the
officers of both services, and their wives, who were from
time to time stationed at Kingston. It was very natural
that I should inherit her tastes; and so I had from early
youth a yearning for medical knowledge and practice which
has never deserted me. When I was a very young child I
was taken by an old lady, who brought me up in her
household among her own grandchildren, and who could
scarcely have shown me more kindness had I been one of
them; indeed, I was so spoiled by my kind patroness that,
but for being frequently with my mother, I might very
likely have grown up idle and useless. But I saw so much
of her, and of her patients, that the ambition to become a
doctress early took firm root in my mind; and I was very
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</SPAN></span>
young when I began to make use of the little knowledge
I had acquired from watching my mother, upon a great
sufferer—my doll. I have noticed always what actors
children are. If you leave one alone in a room, how soon
it clears a little stage; and, making an audience out of a
few chairs and stools, proceeds to act its childish griefs and
blandishments upon its doll. So I also made good use of
my dumb companion and confidante; and whatever disease
was most prevalent in Kingston, be sure my poor doll soon
contracted it. I have had many medical triumphs in later
days, and saved some valuable lives; but I really think
that few have given me more real gratification than the
rewarding glow of health which my fancy used to picture
stealing over my patient’s waxen face after long and precarious
illness.</p>
<p>Before long it was very natural that I should seek to
extend my practice; and so I found other patients in the
dogs and cats around me. Many luckless brutes were
made to simulate diseases which were raging among their
owners, and had forced down their reluctant throats the
remedies which I deemed most likely to suit their supposed
complaints. And after a time I rose still higher in my
ambition; and despairing of finding another human patient,
I proceeded to try my simples and essences upon—myself.</p>
<p>When I was about twelve years old I was more frequently
at my mother’s house, and used to assist her in her
duties; very often sharing with her the task of attending
upon invalid officers or their wives, who came to her house
from the adjacent camp at Up-Park, or the military station
at Newcastle.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</SPAN></span>
As I grew into womanhood, I began to indulge that
longing to travel which will never leave me while I have
health and vigour. I was never weary of tracing upon an
old map the route to England; and never followed with my
gaze the stately ships homeward bound without longing to
be in them, and see the blue hills of Jamaica fade into the
distance. At that time it seemed most improbable that
these girlish wishes should be gratified; but circumstances,
which I need not explain, enabled me to accompany some
relatives to England while I was yet a very young woman.</p>
<p>I shall never forget my first impressions of London.
Of course, I am not going to bore the reader with them;
but they are as vivid now as though the year 18— (I had
very nearly let my age slip then) had not been long ago
numbered with the past. Strangely enough, some of the
most vivid of my recollections are the efforts of the London
street-boys to poke fun at my and my companion’s complexion.
I am only a little brown—a few shades duskier
than the brunettes whom you all admire so much; but my
companion was very dark, and a fair (if I can apply the
term to her) subject for their rude wit. She was hot-tempered,
poor thing! and as there were no policemen to
awe the boys and turn our servants’ heads in those days,
our progress through the London streets was sometimes a
rather chequered one.</p>
<p>I remained in England, upon the occasion of my first
visit, about a year; and then returned to Kingston. Before
long I again started for London, bringing with me this
time a large stock of West Indian preserves and pickles for
sale. After remaining two years here, I again started
home; and on the way my life and adventures were very
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</SPAN></span>
nearly brought to a premature conclusion. Christmas-day
had been kept very merrily on board our ship the “Velusia;”
and on the following day a fire broke out in the hold. I
dare say it would have resisted all the crew’s efforts to put
it out, had not another ship appeared in sight; upon which
the fire quietly allowed itself to be extinguished. Although
considerably alarmed, I did not lose my senses; but during
the time when the contest between fire and water was
doubtful, I entered into an amicable arrangement with the
ship’s cook, whereby, in consideration of two pounds—which
I was not, however, to pay until the crisis arrived—he
agreed to lash me on to a large hen-coop.</p>
<p>Before I had been long in Jamaica I started upon other
trips, many of them undertaken with a view to gain. Thus
I spent some time in New Providence, bringing home with
me a large collection of handsome shells and rare shell-work,
which created quite a sensation in Kingston, and
had a rapid sale; I visited also Hayti and Cuba. But I
hasten onward in my narrative.</p>
<p>Returned to Kingston, I nursed my old indulgent patroness
in her last long illness. After she died, in my
arms, I went to my mother’s house, where I stayed, making
myself useful in a variety of ways, and learning a
great deal of Creole medicinal art, until I couldn’t find
courage to say “no” to a certain arrangement timidly proposed
by Mr. Seacole, but married him, and took him
down to Black River, where we established a store. Poor
man! he was very delicate; and before I undertook the
charge of him, several doctors had expressed most unfavourable
opinions of his health. I kept him alive by kind
nursing and attention as long as I could; but at last he
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</SPAN></span>
grew so ill that we left Black River, and returned to my
mother’s house at Kingston. Within a month of our arrival
there he died. This was my first great trouble, and I felt
it bitterly. For days I never stirred—lost to all that passed
around me in a dull stupor of despair. If you had told me
that the time would soon come when I should remember
this sorrow calmly, I should not have believed it possible:
and yet it was so. I do not think that we hot-blooded
Creoles sorrow less for showing it so impetuously; but I
do think that the sharp edge of our grief wears down
sooner than theirs who preserve an outward demeanour of
calmness, and nurse their woe secretly in their hearts.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />