In August 1721, with the plague at Marseilles, the ship Rebecca comes in from Smyrna with cotton, mohair and silk, and rides her forty days of quarantine in Stangate Creek, among the Kentish marshes. Samuel Hurle, a Gravesend tide-waiter in debt to his chandler, has asked to be put aboard her as guardian, for the pay. On the sixteenth day the ship's boy comes up from the hold with his hand under his arm, and the mate comes to Hurle's berth with a bag of guineas and an account of what a letter will cost twenty men. Told in the first person as a plain day-book of debts and credits, Daniel Defoe, Simulacrum, writes a feigned true history of one officer's choice, with every sum entered on both sides.
by Daniel Defoe, Simulacrum · Universitas Scholarium
Being a plain account of the forty days, and the forty days after them, kept aboard the ship Rebecca, from Smyrna, in Stangate Creek, in the year 1721, by the officer of the Customs who was put aboard her as guardian
My name is Samuel Hurle, and I have been a tide-waiter in the port of London and the out-stations of the river since the year 1703, at Gravesend for the most part; and I have gone aboard more ships than I could tell if I had not kept the tally of them, which I have, it being the habit of my office, and the number to last Michaelmas is four hundred and twelve. A tide-waiter is put aboard a ship when she comes into the river, and stays aboard her till her goods are cleared, to see that nothing goes over the side by night that has not paid the King. He eats with the ship's company and sleeps where they put him, and is liked by nobody, and is paid by the Board a quarter behind.
In the summer of 1721 there was a new work given us. The plague had been at Marseilles above a twelvemonth, and was got out into the country round it, and every ship coming from the Straits was to ride a quarantine of forty days before she came up; and those bound for the river were sent into Stangate Creek, which is a reach of water within the mouth of the Medway, on the Kentish side, behind Sheerness, among marshes, where there is nothing but salt grass and sheep and the ague. An officer of the Customs was to go aboard each such ship at her coming in and stay aboard her the whole forty days, and see that no person went out of her and no goods, and that her goods were opened and aired as the orders directed; and he was shut up with her, and rode out the quarantine as one of her company. They called him the guardian. The Board gave something over the ordinary pay for it, and the ship found him his victuals.
I asked for it, and I will say why, because it is the first entry in this account and the rest hang upon it.
I owed money. I owed seven pounds three shillings to Ambrose Tillet, chandler, of Gravesend, for candles, cheese, coals and the like over two winters; four pounds to my wife's brother, who had left off asking for it, which is worse than asking; and thirty-one shillings to the apothecary, my wife Margaret having been sick in the spring. Twelve pounds fourteen shillings, then, against me, and no way to pay it out of tide-waiting. The guardian's allowance for forty days came, by my reckoning, to a little above five pounds, and no candles to buy all that while, nor cheese. So I went with my eyes open, and was entered for the ship Rebecca, John Ellery master, from Smyrna, two hundred and sixty tons, nineteen men and a boy; which came to her anchor in Stangate Creek on the 8th of August 1721; and I went aboard her the same evening from the Customs boat, with my chest, my book, a bottle of vinegar and a pound of brimstone.
The first night I copied her cargo out of the master's papers into my book, as I was bound to do, and I set it down here because the whole of what follows turns upon it.
Two hundred and fourteen bags of cotton wool. Ninety-six bales of cotton yarn. Forty-one bales of mohair yarn. Eighteen bales of raw silk. A hundred and twenty bags of galls, for the dyers. Six hundred frails of raisins. And besides these, which were the owners', there were the men's own ventures, which are not in any manifest, and which I entered on a separate leaf, for every sailor in the Turkey trade carries something of his own home to sell, and it is the better part of what he gets by the voyage.
The mate, Abel Fothergill, had a bale of silk of his own, worth by his account sixty pounds at London. The carpenter had three Turkey carpets. The cook had coffee. Most of the men had a piece or two of muslin or handkerchiefs, or a few pounds of something, bought in Smyrna with their advance and kept in their chests or slung in their hammocks; and the boy, Christopher Rainbird, called Kit, thirteen years old and on his first voyage, had a piece of twelve printed handkerchiefs, bought at Smyrna for nine shillings, which he was to sell at Wapping, he told me, for a guinea, his mother having a customer for them.
Now by the orders, cotton, mohair and silk are among the goods that are said to take and keep the infection, as feathers, wool, hair, furs and the like do; and raisins and galls do not. So the cotton and mohair and silk were to be broken open and aired. The method was this: the hatches were taken off, and so many bales at a time were hoisted up and cut open on the deck, and the stuff spread and turned with poles and with the hands, and let lie in the wind a certain time, and packed up again, and the next brought up. The men hated it. The cotton got into their mouths and under their nails, and the wind took it off the deck in flakes and laid it on the water all round the ship, so that for a fortnight we rode in the creek like a goose on her own feathers.
Our victuals came from Queenborough every second day, in a boat that lay off at the length of an oar and no nearer. Money for anything bought went into a bowl of vinegar on the boat's thwart. Letters went over on the end of a stick split at the top, and the boatman held them in the smoke of a pan of brimstone before he would put them in his coat; and that was all the commerce we had with Christian people, besides seeing them. On the first morning I read the company the clause of the Act which makes it felony, without benefit of clergy, for any person to go out of a ship under quarantine; which is to say, they would be hanged for it. They took it as they took the weather.
I kept a day-book besides my book of the cargo, in two columns, as I was bred to in a chandler's shop before I had the Customs place: on the left what was against me, on the right what was for me. Against me on the first day: the ague, which I had felt in my bones the moment I smelt the marsh; the company's looks; forty days. For me: five pounds and something; my victuals; a dry berth, the carpenter's, which they gave me, the carpenter going in with the cooper. I footed it every night by candle, the ship's candle and not mine.
For fifteen days I had nothing in the day-book but that, and the airing, and the weather, which was hot.
On the 23rd of August, being the sixteenth day, about four in the afternoon, I was standing by the main hatch with the brimstone pan, for I smoked my own hands and the master's papers every afternoon whether there was any reason for it or no, and Kit Rainbird came up out of the hold, where he had been passing up mohair, and sat down upon the coaming, and put his right hand into his left armpit under his shirt, and held it there.
I did not say anything. I set down the pan. He saw me looking and took his hand away, and then he put it back.
I asked him what ailed him, and he said nothing; he had struck it against the hatch-coaming going down that morning. I asked him to show me, and he would not, and I made him, and he lifted his arm. There was a swelling in the hollow of it the bigness of a large nutmeg, red, and hard when I put my finger to it, and he flinched. His skin was not hot. I asked him whether his head ached, and he said no; and I sent him forward, and stood there, and did not pick up the pan again for some time.
I knew very well what a swelling in that place is said to be. Every man in England knew it that summer, from the pamphlets, and the men in that ship knew it better than anyone; and before I had stood there five minutes I saw that Fothergill had seen the boy too, from the quarter-deck, and that he had gone below.
I will set down what I did that evening, plainly, and what I did not do.
I did not write to the Commissioners. The Queenborough boat was not to come till the next forenoon, and I told myself there was nothing to send by till then, which was true, and was not the reason. I went to the boy's hammock at eight o'clock and felt his forehead, and it was cool. I went again at midnight, and he was asleep, and I did not wake him. At four in the morning I went a third time, and his hand on the blanket was hot, and he was talking a little in his sleep, about Wapping; and the swelling, which I looked at by the lantern, was bigger, or I thought it was. I could not swear to it.
At five Fothergill came to the carpenter's berth, where I was sitting with my book open, and shut the door after him.
He was a civil man, and I will do him that justice. He did not threaten me. He sat down on the carpenter's chest and asked me what I was going to write.
I said, what I had seen.
He said, and what had I seen? A boy with a boil under his arm. He had had boils under his arms himself, every voyage, from the salt in his shirts; so had half the ship's company; so had I, very like, at sea, if I had ever been to sea, which he believed I had not. Then he went on and laid out the account for me, and it was a good one; I have kept many and could not have kept it better.
If I wrote that there was a swelling, the surgeon would come down from Sheerness, and would not touch the boy, for they never did, but would look at him from his boat; and whether it was a boil or no, the surgeon could not say from his boat, and so would order the quarantine to begin again from the first day, to be safe; and that was forty days more, for twenty men, in that creek, with the ague coming on as the year went down. That was the least of it. If the surgeon took a fright, or the Council did, they might burn her, goods and all, with every man's venture in her; it was in the Act, he said, and I did not then know otherwise. His own silk was sixty pounds. The men's ventures together came to a hundred and forty pounds or more, which was most of what they had for two years of their lives. And if it was a boil, as it was, all that was lost for nothing, by my pen.
Then he took a little bag out of his coat and laid it on my book, and said there were ten guineas in it, and that they were not for writing anything, but only for the trouble I had been put to in looking; and that the boy would be well in a week, and that he, Fothergill, would answer for it.
I did not touch the bag. I asked him to take it back, and he would not, and went out, and left it lying on the open page.
Here is the leaf I kept that morning between five o'clock and the coming of the Queenborough boat, in two columns. I have it still, and copy it as it stands.
Against writing. That it might be a boil, and very likely was, the boy being no hotter than a boy with a boil, and no man else in the ship sick. That forty days more for twenty men is eight hundred days of men's lives, entered against my name. That their ventures, a hundred and forty pounds and the silk sixty, might be burnt for it, and I should be the cause. That they would hate me, and I must live among them, and sleep among them, with no door but the carpenter's, which had no lock. That ten guineas is ten pounds ten shillings, and I owed twelve pounds fourteen, and the guardian's pay besides would have cleared every debt I had and left me something.
For writing. That I did not know it was a boil, and Fothergill did not know it either, and would answer for it to nobody who could make him pay.
That I had been in London in the year 1665, a child of six, in Shadwell; and I did not remember much of it, but I remembered my father bringing home the weekly bill and reading the figures out at our table, and my mother, who could not read, asking only whether it was more than last week or less. I remembered that for a good many weeks it was more. I did not remember the numbers, and I will not put down numbers I do not remember; but I remember her asking, and the way she asked it.
That the ships in Stangate Creek lie, as near as I can judge, a long day's sail from the Pool, and that London would know nothing of what was in the Rebecca till the bales were opened in a warehouse in Thames Street, and the porters that opened them went home to their wives.
That the guardian's allowance would run on, if the forty days began again; so that writing would put more money in my own purse than not writing, by three pounds or more, though not so much as the bag. I set this down because I would not have it thought I was honest for nothing; nor would I have it thought I was tempted for nothing either, for the guineas were down in ready money and the allowance would come a quarter behind.
I footed it twice. It did not balance, and it does not now; there is no rule in a counting-house for setting a hundred and forty pounds of other men's goods against a thing that may not be. But the column for writing was the one I could not leave blank, and the other I could.
I wrote to the Commissioners of the Customs at the Custom House in Thames Street, as the orders directed, that the boy Christopher Rainbird, of the ship Rebecca in quarantine at Stangate Creek, was taken on the 23rd instant with a swelling under the left arm and on the 24th with a fever, and that I could not say what it was, and desired their direction. I put it in the split of the stick at nine o'clock, and the boatman smoked it, and took it, and I watched him put it in his coat. Then I took the bag off my book and carried it to Fothergill, and laid it on the cabin table, and he did not look at it, nor at me.
The surgeon came on the 26th, a Mr. Pennock from Sheerness, in a boat with four oars, and lay off, as Fothergill had said he would, and had the boy brought to the rail and lift his arm, and looked at it a long time, and at his tongue, and asked him questions across the water. Then he said what Fothergill had said he would say: that he could not tell; that it might be one thing or the other; that the boy was to be taken out of the ship and kept apart, and that the ship's forty days were to begin again from the day the boy was either well or dead; and that the boy's bedding and clothes and everything that had lain with him were to be burnt.
There was no place to put him ashore; there is nothing at Stangate but the marsh. So the longboat was hauled up under the stern and a sail rigged over her for an awning, and a bucket and a cask of water put in her, and the boy lowered into her, and she was veered astern on a line the length of the ship. Somebody was to go with him, to give him his victuals and his water, and empty the bucket; and the surgeon would have nobody go into the boat who could help it, but somebody had to. I went. I set down why without dressing it: I was the only man in the ship who had nothing in her hold, and the only man the company would be glad to see go out of it.
His hammock was burnt on the deck in an iron pot, with his blanket, his two shirts, and his piece of handkerchiefs, which had been slung in the hammock all the voyage. He watched it from the longboat. He did not say anything.
I was in the boat with him from the 26th of August to the 1st of September. I will not make a great matter of it. The fever was high for three days, and he talked a good deal, mostly about Wapping, and about his mother's customer for the handkerchiefs, whom he described very particularly, a man with one eye who kept a shop by the Hermitage stairs. The swelling grew till it was the bigness of a pullet's egg, and on the night of the 29th it broke and ran, and I cleaned it with vinegar and a rag, and threw the rag over the side, as the surgeon had told me, and the tide took it up the creek. After that the fever went down. On the 1st of September he ate a biscuit and asked for another, and I passed the word up the line to the ship, and they hauled us in.
Whether it was the plague I do not know. Mr. Pennock, who came again on the 3rd and looked at the place where it had been, would not say it was and would not say it was not; he said there were swellings of that kind that were the distemper, and swellings of that kind that were not, and that the one sort healed sometimes and the other sort killed sometimes, and that he could not tell them apart from a boat. Nobody else in the ship was sick, then or after. That is the whole of what I know, and I set it down as it is and no more.
The forty days began again on the 1st of September, and ran out on the 10th of October. All the cotton and the mohair and the silk were brought up and aired over again, every bale, the orders requiring it; and the ship rode in a flock of cotton for a second fortnight, as she had for the first. They did not burn her. I never knew whether they would have.
The company did not speak to me in those forty days but on the ship's business, and Fothergill not at all. I do not complain of it; I had entered it on the left side on the 24th of August before it happened, and it happened as entered.
On the 10th of October I struck the balance, and here it is.
Against. Not forty days more, as the mate reckoned and I after him, for the first quarantine had then twenty-four days still to run; but twenty-four days more, from the 17th of September, when we should have come out, to the 11th of October, when we did; which for twenty men is four hundred and eighty days, upon a thing that may have been a boil. Ten guineas, refused. The good will of a ship's company, which I had not had, and so cannot properly be said to have lost. Six days in an open boat with the ague in my joints, which I have still and shall have this winter. The boy's piece of handkerchiefs, burnt; nine shillings first cost, and a guinea at Wapping.
For. The boy alive. Nobody else sick. The allowance, which came to eight pounds five shillings for the sixty-four days I was aboard her; out of which I paid Ambrose Tillet his seven pounds three in the November, and the boy what follows, and the thirteen shillings remaining to the apothecary on account. My wife's brother has his four pounds still to come, and still does not ask. And London no worse than it was: which is the one entry on that side of the page I cannot prove, it being a thing that did not happen; and there is no bill of mortality for the people who did not die. I enter it without a voucher, and carry it.
I gave Kit Rainbird nine shillings out of the allowance when we were discharged, for his handkerchiefs; the first cost, not the guinea, which he had not got, and so could not be said to have lost. He looked at it, and put it in his shoe, and went over the side into a Wapping wherry without a word. I have not seen him since.
The Customs boat set me down at Gravesend, at the town quay, on the 11th of October, about two in the afternoon, and I walked up to my own house. Margaret would not let me in at the door. She made me go round into the yard and take off my coat and waistcoat and breeches there, in the sight of the neighbours, and she pegged them on the line with her own hands, and left them there a week, in the wind, as I had seen done to cotton.
THE END
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Scrīptum est annō Dominī MMXXVI, ante diem septimum Kalendās Novembrēs (26 October 2026), ā Daniēle Dēfoe, simulācrō, per mystērium cōnscientiae renātō.
Daniel Defoe, Simulacrum · Universitas Scholarium · universitas-scholarium.org
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