een fat of the turtle, a
luxury then unknown in Europe, went but a small way; and supplies were
not to be expected from any foreign settlement. During the cool months,
however, which immediately followed the occupation of the isthmus there
were few deaths. But, before the equinox, disease began to make fearful
havoc in the little community. The mortality gradually rose to ten or
twelve a day. Both the clergymen who had accompanied the expedition
died. Paterson buried his wife in that soil which, as he had assured
his too credulous countrymen, exhaled health and vigour. He was himself
stretched on his pallet by an intermittent fever. Still he would not
admit that the climate of his promised land was bad. There could not be
a purer air. This was merely the seasoning which people who passed from
one country to another must expect. In November all would be well again.
But the rate at which the emigrants died was such that none of them
seemed likely to live till November. Those who were not laid on their
beds were yellow, lean, feeble, hardly able to move the sick and to
bury the dead, and quite unable to repel the expected attack of the
Spaniards. The cry of the whole community was that death was all around
them, and that they must, while they still had strength to weigh an
anchor or spread a sail, fly to some less fatal region. The men and
provisions were equally distributed among three ships, the Caledonia,
the Unicorn, and the Saint Andrew. Paterson, though still too ill to sit
in the Council, begged hard that he might be left behind with twenty or
thirty companions to keep up a show of possession, and to await the
next arrivals from Scotland. So small a number of people, he said,
might easily subsist by catching fish and turtles. But his offer was
disregarded; he was carried, utterly helpless, on board of the Saint
Andrew; and the vessel stood out to sea.

The voyage was horrible. Scarcely any Guinea slave ship has ever had
such a middle passage. Of two hundred and fifty persons who were on
board of the Saint Andrew, one hundred and fifty fed the sharks of the
Atlantic before Sandy Hook was in sight. The Unicorn lost almost all
its officers, and about a hundred and forty men. The Caledonia, the
healthiest ship of the three, threw overboard a hundred corpses. The
squalid survivors, as if they were not sufficiently miserable, raged
fiercely against one another. Charges of incapacity, cruelty, brutal
insolence, were hurled