Old as I am, my heart is still unchanged; and were I young and stout as I have been, again would I sail upon discovery—but, weak and stiff, I can only send my prayers with the tight ship and her merry hearts.
*
I have used the text of the original edition of The Life and Adventures of John Nicol, Mariner, published by William Blackwood in Edinburgh in 1822. I have modernised Nicol’s spelling and punctuation, corrected the occasional error and added some footnotes, marked by an asterisk (*). Nicol’s own notes are marked by a dagger (†).
1 Simmons, J. J. (III), ‘Those Vulgar Tubes’, Studies in Nautical Archaeology no. 1, Department of Archaeology, Texas University, 1991.
2 Nicol, John, The Life and Adventures of John Nicol, Mariner, with a foreword and afterword by Alexander Laing, Cassell & Company, London, 1937, 27.
3 Life and Adventures, 1937, 26.
4 ibid., 28.
5 Life and Adventures, 1937, 23.
6 Flynn, Michael, The Second Fleet: Britain’s Grim Convict Armada of 1790, Library of Australian History, Sydney, 1993, 1–8.
7 The Second Fleet, 461.
8 Walter, R., A Voyage Round the World in the Years 1740, 1, 2, 3, 4 by George Anson, Esq., Alex Lawrie & Co., Edinburgh, 1741, 1804, 20.
9 Life and Adventures, 1937, 25.
by John Howell
EARLY IN THE spring of the year 1822 John Nicol, the narrator of these adventures, was pointed out to me as a most interesting character, and one who had seen more of the world than most persons in Edinburgh, perhaps in Britain.
He was walking feebly along with an old apron tied round his waist, in which he carried a few very small pieces of coal he had picked up in his wanderings through the streets. From the history I had got of his adventures, I felt grieved to see the poor old man. I requested him to call at my shop. He came in the evening. After a little conversation with him I was astonished at the information he possessed, and the spirit that awoke in the old tar.
I had no interest by which to serve myself. Money I had not to give. As the only means of being of permanent use to him, and perhaps of obtaining the pension he is by service entitled to, I thought of taking down a narrative of his life, from his own mouth. This I have done, as nearly as I could, in his own words.
Even in the midst of all his present wants, he is a contented cheerful old man of sober habits, and bears an excellent character from those people who have employed him in his trade as a cooper. I have conversed with one of his shipmates who was with him in the Edgar, Goliah and Ramilies, who informs me he was as sober and steady a man as ever sailed.
I have never met with one possessed of a more tenacious memory or who gave a more distinct account of any occurrence he had witnessed, of which any gentleman may satisfy himself, as John will wait upon him with pleasure, upon application to the Publisher.
Edinburgh 12th November 1822
Author’s Birth — Early Propensities
— He Goes to London — Is
Apprenticed to a Cooper
— Enters the Navy — Smugglers —
Arrives at Quebec.
Preface
ΤO THE PUBLIC it must appear strange that an unlettered individual, at the advanced age of sixty-seven years, should sit down to give them a narrative of his life. Imperious circumstances must plead my excuse. Necessity, even more than the importunity of well-wishers, at length compels me. I shall use my humble endeavour to make it as interesting as is in my power, consistent with truth.
My life, for a period of twenty-five years, was a continued succession of change. Twice I circumnavigated the globe; three times I was in China, twice in Egypt, and more than once sailed along the whole landboard of America from Nootka Sound to Cape Horn. Twice I doubled it—but I will not anticipate the events I am about to narrate.
Old as I am, my heart is still unchanged; and were I young and stout as I have been, again would I sail upon discovery—but, weak and stiff, I can only send my prayers with the tight ship and her merry hearts.
John Nicol
I WAS BORN in the small village of Currie, about six miles from Edinburgh, in the year 1755. The first wish I ever formed was to wander, and many a search I gave my parents in gratifying my youthful passion.
My mother died in child-bed when I was very young, leaving my father in charge of five children. Two died young and three came to man’s estate. My oldest brother died of his wounds in the West Indies, a lieutenant in the navy. My younger brother went to America and I have never heard from him. Those trifling circumstances I would not mention, were I not conscious that the history of the dispersion of my father’s family is the parallel of thousands of the families of my father’s rank in Scotland.
My father, a cooper to trade, was a man of talent and information, and made it his study to give his children an education suited to their rank in life; but my unsteady propensities did not allow me to make the most of the schooling I got. I had read Robinson Crusoe many times over and longed to be at sea. We had been living for some time in Borrowstownness. Every moment I could spare was spent in the boats or about the shore.
When I was about fourteen years of age my father was engaged to go to London to take a small charge in a chemical work. Even now I recollect the transports my young mind felt when my father informed me I was to go to London. I counted the hours and minutes to the moment we sailed on board the Glasgow and Paisley Packet, Captain Thompson master. There were a sergeant and a number of recruits, a female passenger, my father, brother and self, besides the crew. It was in the month of December we sailed, and the weather was very bad. All the passengers were seasick; I never was.
This was in the year 1769, when the dreadful loss was sustained on the coast of Yorkshire—above thirty sail of merchantmen were wrecked. We were taken in the same gale but rode it out. Next morning we could hardly proceed for wreck, and the whole beach was covered. The country people were collecting and driving away the dead bodies in wagons.
My father embraced this opportunity to prejudice me against being a sailor. He was a kind but strict parent and we dared not disobey him. The storm had made no impression upon my mind sufficient to alter my determination. My youthful mind could not separate the life of a sailor from dangers and storms, and I looked upon them as an interesting part of the adventures I panted after. I had been on deck all the time and was fully