Robert Butler - Narrative of the Life and Travels of Serjeant B–

We knew a great difference also of our provisions from what we had been accustomed to at home; for we were served out with buffalo beef, on which there was not to be seen a shred of fat; and rice was our substitute for bread. This was very well for the natives, who knew nothing else; but for men accustomed to the rich and substantial food of Europe, and particularly after the stomach had lost all relish by a wasting dysentery, it was very sorry fare, and made us incline to adopt the sentiments of the Israelites, and to long for the flesh pots of that land we had left.

We were a very few days here when the flux appeared amongst the men, and made very rapid progress. I also took this trouble, which increased upon me to a very great degree. I acknowledge myself to have acted a very imprudent part, in not reporting myself to the doctor sooner; but I was at last compelled to put my name into the sick list, when I was well told of my error; and as I was found to be in a dangerous condition, I was sent to the general hospital, where all the worst of our men were; for the medical officers there were better acquainted with the nature of this disease, and the accommodation was also much better for the men. The manner in which the sick are conveyed in this country, is as follows: – The person is put into what is called a doolie, which is nearly in the form of one of the small houses or boxes used in Scotland for watch-dogs, being about six feet long, and three deep. In the middle of each side there is a door to go out and in by, and upon the top, at each end, there is a strong ring, through which a pole is put, and borne by four natives. I was therefore laid in one of these doolies, and carried about half way, when the bearers stopt. I conjectured that they were resting a little, as it was three miles between the barrack and the hospital; but I was rather surprised when one of them demanded some money from me. I told him that I had nothing for him; but that I would give him something when they carried me to the hospital. This did not at all satisfy him; and the other bearers also became clamorous, and I began to fear they intended me a mischief, – for they might have done what they chose with me, as I was unable to make any resistance, being both feeble and unarmed; but I got them to proceed, by giving signs to them that they should be rewarded for their trouble afterward. But I never heard a word about money when they set me down; and if I had reported them to the general doctor, they would have been paid for their trouble with a witness: but as they made off when I left the doolie, I said nothing about it.

When I entered the hospital, and looked around me to view the place, and saw the meagre and distressed features of the men stretched upon the beds, and many of the cots empty, as if death had been robbing the place of its inhabitants, to replenish the narrow house appointed for all living, something awfully solemn stole upon my mind, which I could by no means shake off, and which I am altogether unable to describe. I had not remained here many days when I thought my disorder was taking a turn for the better; but I was deceived in this, because it was only some temporary relief I was receiving from the medicine, for it returned upon me worse than ever. Here I had wearisome nights appointed to me, for in that season I was generally worst. The ward in which I lay was very large, and had a truly dismal appearance at night, being lighted by two or three glimmering lamps, while all around was solemn and still, save the cries and groans of the sufferers, that seemed to contend along the echoing walls; and night after night we were visited by the king of terrors, to many, I am afraid, in his awfulest form. There were no less than six of his darts struck the next cot to that on which I lay.

You may think that my state in these circumstances was truly deplorable, and you think rightly, for so it was; but I have not told you the worst, for "the spirit of a man may sustain his infirmity," and my spirit was not easily subdued by affliction, but "a wounded spirit who can bear?" and "The arrows of the Almighty were within me, the poison whereof drunk up my spirits," for here I had time for serious reflection, or rather here it was forced upon me. Here I could not mix with jolly companions to drive away melancholy, and my favourite music could give me no relief. Here too I was compelled to listen to the voice of conscience, and O! how loudly did it expostulate with me about the answers I formerly gave it in Ireland, namely, that I had no opportunity in the confusion of a barrack-room for reading my Bible, meditation, or prayer, but that I would become a good Christian when I was out of the army. Here I was indeed out of the confusion of a barrack-room, but not only still in the army, but far, far from any minister of Christ to give me wholesome counsel. O what would I have given for the company of a godly minister, or pious, well-informed Christian! but, alas! "I looked upon the right hand, but none would know me; refuge failed me, no man cared for my soul." Surely the Lord frequently answers the prayers of his people by "terrible things in righteousness." Here, "in the multitude of my thoughts within me," I could entertain little hope of ever coming out of this place again, far less of getting out of the army, where I might have an opportunity of serving God; for death seemed to be making rapid strides towards me, to take me down to the "bars of the pit." But death seemed rather a relief from my agonizing trouble, had it not been that I knew that "after death there was a judgment." And how was my soul to appear before the holy and just Judge of the earth? This was a question I could not answer. I looked with anxious care to see if any hope was to be entertained from my past life, but, alas! all seemed to be a dreary waste. Some comfort, indeed, I had from the view of my apprenticeship, and some time afterward, which I formerly mentioned; but, alas! even then I saw myself to have been guilty of many a sin, and all the rest of my life appeared to be but one act of disobedience and rebellion; and I saw myself condemned by the laws of heaven, supposing I had lived all my life in the apparently innocent manner above stated; for it is written, "Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law, to do them." I next looked to the general mercy of God, but neither could that give me any relief; and in this state of torment I remained for several nights and days with little intermission. At last it pleased the Lord to send me relief in the following manner: —

One forenoon, when I was almost distracted with the agony of my soul, and the pain of my body, that blessed passage was given me, "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me: " and never before did I feel any thing come home with such divine power and such healing comfort to my afflicted soul. I tried to recollect if ever I had read it in my Bible, or heard it any time, but in vain; yet I was fully persuaded that it was the voice of God speaking in his word, and accompanied by his Holy Spirit. I will not attempt a description of my mind at this time, for it is impossible, because it was indeed "a joy unspeakable." O what a flood of comfort did it impart to my helpless soul! for then I believed that God "had not in anger shut up his tender mercy, but still intended to be gracious." Now "the Lord made my bed in my sickness," for my couch, as I thought, became softer, and every thing around me wore a different aspect. I yet looked back with pleasure to the description of heaven given by Mr. Boston in his Fourfold State, (which I used to read when in Darnick,) and still hoped to be an inhabitant of that happy place. Here the Lord turned for me "my mourning into dancing, he put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;" – here the Lord dealt with me as he did with his ancient church, for "he allured me, and brought me into the wilderness, that he might speak comfortably unto me;" – and here "he made me to sing, as in the days of my youth." "Sing unto the Lord, O ye saints of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness: For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." My dear reader, if you are a stranger to the comfortable sense of the favour of God, you may think this is strange kind of language; and no wonder, for "the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned;" but believe me, this was true solid comfort, arising from a view which I had just obtained of a reconciled God in Christ, although I acknowledge myself to have had at this time a very imperfect knowledge of the gospel-scheme of salvation.