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Jack in the Forecastle; or, Incidents in the Early Life of Hawser Martingale

by John Sherburne Sleeper · English · Gutenberg #8638 · 849,285 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Jack in the Forecastle; or, Incidents in the Early Life of Hawser Martingale

Author: John Sherburne Sleeper


        
Release date: August 1, 2005 [eBook #8638]
                Most recently updated: July 29, 2009

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8638

Credits: Produced by Theresa Armao, and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACK IN THE FORECASTLE; OR, INCIDENTS IN THE EARLY LIFE OF HAWSER MARTINGALE ***




Produced by Theresa Armao





JACK IN THE FORECASTLE

or

INCIDENTS IN THE EARLY LIFE OF HAWSER MARTINGALE



By John Sherburne Sleeper

(1794-1878)




Chapter I. FAREWELL TO NEW ENGLAND

I was born towards the close of the last century, in a village
pleasantly situated on the banks of the Merrimack, in Massachusetts. For
the satisfaction of the curious, and the edification of the genealogist,
I will state that my ancestors came to this country from England in the
middle of the seventeenth century. Why they left their native land to
seek an asylum on this distant shore whether prompted by a spirit of
adventure, or with a view to avoid persecution for religion's sake is
now unknown. Even if they "left their country for their country's good,"
they were undoubtedly as respectable, honest, and noble, as the major
part of those needy ruffians who accompanied William the Conqueror from
Normandy in his successful attempt to seize the British crown, and whose
descendants now boast of their noble ancestry, and proudly claim a seat
in the British House of Peers.

From my earliest years I manifested a strong attachment to reading; and
as matters relating to ships and sailors captivated my boyish fancy,
and exerted a magic influence on my mind, the "Adventures of Robinson
Crusoe," "Peter Wilkins," "Philip Quarle," and vagabonds of a similar
character, were my favorite books. An indulgence in this taste, and
perhaps an innate disposition to lead a wandering, adventurous life,
kindled in my bosom a strong desire, which soon became a fixed
resolution, TO GO TO SEA. Indeed, this wish to go abroad, to encounter
dangers on the mighty deep, to visit foreign countries and climes, to
face shipwrecks and disasters, became a passion. It was my favorite
theme of talk by day, and the subject of my dreams by night. As I
increased in years my longing for a sailor's life also increased;
and whenever my schoolfellows and myself were conversing about the
occupations we should select as the means of gaining a livelihood
hereafter, I invariably said, "I will be a sailor."

Had my parents lived, it is possible that this deep-seated inclination
might have been thwarted; that my destiny might have taken another
shape. But my father died while I was quite young, and my mother
survived him but a few years. She lived long enough, however, to
convince me that there is nothing more pure, disinterested, and enduring
than a mother's love, and that those who are deprived of this blessing
meet at the outset of their pilgrimage a misfortune which can never
be remedied. Thus, before I had numbered fifteen years, I found myself
thrown a waif on the waters of life, free to follow the bent of my
inclination to become a sailor.

Fortune favored my wishes. Soon after the death of my parents, a
relation of my mother was fitting out a vessel in Portsmouth, N.H.,
for a voyage to Demarara; and those who felt an interest in my welfare,
conceiving this a good opportunity for me to commence my salt-water
career, acceded to my wishes, and prevailed on my relative, against his
inclination, to take me with him as a cabin boy.

With emotions of delight I turned my back on the home of my childhood,
and gayly started off to seek my fortune in the world, with no other
foundation to build upon than a slender frame, an imperfect education,
a vivid imagination, ever picturing charming castles in the air, and a
goodly share of quiet energy and perseverance, modified by an excess of
diffidence, which to this day I have never been able to overcome.

I had already found in a taste for reading a valuable and never-failing
source of information and amusement. This attachment to books has
attended me through life, and been a comfort and solace in difficulties,
perplexities, and perils. My parents, also, early ingrafted on my mind
strict moral principles; taught me to distinguish between right and
wrong; to cherish a love of truth, and even a chivalric sense of honor
and honesty. To this, perhaps, more than to any other circumstance, may
be attributed whatever success and respectability has attended my career
through life. It has enabled me to resist temptations to evil with which
I was often surrounded, and to grapple with and triumph over obstacles
that might otherwise have overwhelmed me.

When I reached Portsmouth, my kinsman, Captain Tilton, gave me
an ungracious reception. He rebuked me severely for expressing a
determination to go to sea.

"Go to sea!" he exclaimed in a tone of the most sovereign contempt.
"Ridiculous! You are a noodle for thinking of such a thing. A sailor's
life is a dog's life at best! Besides, you are not fit for a sailor,
either by habits, taste, or constitution. With such a pale face, and
slight figure, and sheepish look, how can you expect to fight the battle
of life on the ocean, and endure all the crosses, the perils, and the
rough-and-tumble of a sailor's life? Hawser, you are not fit for a
sailor. You had much better go home and try something else."

Finding me unconvinced by his arguments, and unshaken in my
determination, he concluded his remarks by asking me abruptly the
startling question, "Are you ready to die?"

I replied, that I had not bestowed much thought on the subject; but
frankly admitted I was not altogether prepared for such a solemn event.

"Then, Hawser," said he with marked emphasis, "if you are not prepared
to die to die of YELLOW FEVER don't go to Demarara at this season of
the year!" And he left the room abruptly, apparently disgusted at my
obstinacy.

On the following day, Captain Tilton took me on board the brig Dolphin.
I did not mark her imperfections, which were many. She was a vessel,
bound on a voyage to a foreign port, and, therefore, I was charmed with
her appearance. In my eyes she was a model of excellence; as beautiful
and graceful as the celebrated barge in which Cleopatra descended the
Cyndnus to meet Mark Antony.

The captain led me to the mate, who was busily engaged about the decks.
"Mr. Thompson," said he, "here is a lad who wants to go to sea, and I
have foolishly engaged to take him as a cabin boy. Keep him on board the
brig; look sharp after him; don't let him have an idle moment; and,
if possible, make him useful in some way until the vessel is ready for
sea."

Mr. William Thompson was a worthy man, who subsequently became a
shipmaster and merchant of great respectability in Portsmouth. He
treated me with consideration and kindness, and took pleasure in
teaching me the details of the business I was about to undertake.

During the few days in which the Dolphin lay at the wharf I gained much
nautical information. I learned the names of the different parts of a
vessel; of the different masts, and some portions of the rigging. But
the great number of ropes excited my admiration. I thought a lifetime
would hardly suffice to learn their different names and purposes. I
accomplished successfully the feat of going aloft; and one memorable
day, assisted the riggers in "bending sails," and received an
ill-natured rebuke from a crusty old tar, for my stupidity in failing
to understand him when he told me to "pass the gasket" while furling the
fore-topsail. Instead of passing the gasket around the yard, I gravely
handed him a marlinspike!

In the course of my desultory reading, I had learned that vessels at sea
were liable to "spring a leak," which was one of the most dreaded perils
of navigation; and I had a vague notion that the hold of a ship was
always so arranged that a leak could be discovered and stopped. I was,
therefore, not a little puzzled when I found the hold of the Dolphin was
crammed with lumber; not a space having been left large enough to stow
away the ghost of a belaying pin. Finding the captain in a pleasant mood
one day, I ventured to ask him what would be the consequence if the brig
should spring a leak in her bottom.

"Spring a leak in her bottom!" he replied, in his gruff manner; "why, we
should go to the bottom, of course."

The brig was now ready for sea. The sailors were shipped, and I watched
them closely as they came on board, expecting to find the noble-looking,
generous spirited tars I had become so familiar with in books. It
happened, however, that three out of the five seamen who composed the
crew were "old English men-of-war's-men," and had long since lost
any refinement of character or rectitude of principle they originally
possessed. They were brought on board drunk by the landlord with whom
they boarded; for the "old tars" of those days fifty years ago had no
homes; when on shore all they cared for was a roof to shelter them, and
plenty of grog, in which they would indulge until their money was gone,
when they would go to sea and get more.

Now ensued the bustle incident to such occasions. Captain William Boyd,
who had volunteered to pilot the brig down the harbor, came on board;
the sails were hoisted; the deck was crowded with persons to take leave
of their friends, or gratify a morbid curiosity; and what with the
numerous questions asked, the running to and fro, the peremptory
commands of the mate, the unmusical singing and shouting of the crew
as they executed the various orders, together with the bawling of the
handcartmen and truckmen as they brought down the last of the trunks,
chests, stores, and provisions, my brain was in a whirl of excitement; I
hardly knew whether I stood on my head or my heels.

At last the captain came down the wharf, accompanied by Joshua Haven,
one of the owners, and some friends, who had made arrangements to
proceed in the brig so far as the mouth of the harbor. The single rope
which connected the Dolphin with the shore was cast loose; the pilot
gave some orders; that were Greek to me, in a loud and energetic tone;
the men on the wharf gave three cheers, which were heartily responded
to by the temporary passengers and crew; and with a pleasant breeze from
the westward, we sailed merrily down the river.

Some few persons lingered on the wharf, and continued for a time to
wave their handkerchiefs in token of an affectionate farewell to their
friends. I seemed to stand alone while these interesting scenes were
enacted. I took no part in the warm greetings or the tender adieus. I
had bidden farewell to my friends and relatives in another town some
days before; and no one took sufficient interest in my welfare to travel
a few miles, look after my comforts, and wish me a pleasant voyage as I
left my native land.

Although from the reception I had met with I had little reason to expect
present indulgences or future favors from my kinsman who commanded the
brig, I did not regret the step I had taken. On the contrary, my bosom
bounded with joy when the last rope was severed, and the vessel on whose
decks I proudly stood was actually leaving the harbor of Portsmouth,
under full sail, bound to a foreign port. This was no longer "the
baseless fabric of a vision." The dream of my early years had come to
pass; and I looked forward with all the confidence of youth to a bold
and manly career, checkered it might be with toil and suffering, but
replete with stirring adventure, whose wild and romantic charms would
be cheaply won by wading through a sea of troubles. I now realized the
feeling which has since been so well described by the poet:

     "A life on the ocean wave,
     A home on the rolling deep,
     Where the scattered waters rave,
     And the winds their revels keep.

     "Like an eagle caged, I pine
     On this dull, unchanging shore;
     O, give me the flashing brine,
     The spray, and the tempest's roar."




Chapter II. INCIDENTS AT SEA

The Dolphin was what is termed, in nautical parlance, an "hermaphrodite
brig," of about one hundred and fifty tons burden; and had been engaged,
for some twelve or fifteen years, in the West India trade. This vessel
could not with propriety be regarded as a model of grace and beauty, but
gloried in bluff bows, a flat bottom, and a high quarter-deck; carried
a large cargo for her tonnage, and moved heavily and reluctantly through
the water.

On this particular voyage, the hold of the brig, as I have already
stated, was filled with lumber; and thirty-five thousand feet of the
same article were carried on deck, together with an indefinite quantity
of staves, shooks, hoop poles, and other articles of commerce too
numerous to mention. On this enormous deck-load were constructed, on
each side, a row of sheep-pens, sufficiently spacious to furnish with
comfortable quarters some sixty or seventy sheep; and on the pens,
ranged along in beautiful confusion, was an imposing display of
hen-coops and turkey-coops, the interstices being ingeniously filled
with bundles of hay and chunks of firewood. The quarter-deck was
"lumbered up" with hogsheads of water, and casks of oats and barley, and
hen-coops without number.

With such a deck-load, not an unusually large one in those days, the
leading trucks attached to the fore-rigging were about half way between
the main deck and the foretop. It was a work of difficulty and danger to
descend from the deck-load to the forecastle; but to reach the foretop
required only a hop, skip, and a jump. The locomotive qualities of this
craft, misnamed the Dolphin, were little superior to those of a well
constructed raft; and with a fresh breeze on the quarter, in spite of
the skill of the best helmsman, her wake was as crooked as that of the
"wounded snake," referred to by the poet, which "dragged its slow length
along."

It was in the early part of July, in the year 1809, that the brig
Dolphin left Portsmouth, bound on a voyage to Dutch Guiana, which at
that time, in consequence of the malignant fevers that prevailed on the
coast, was not inaptly termed "the grave of American seamen." The crew
consisted of the captain and mate, five sailors, a green hand to act as
cook, and a cabin boy. There was also a passenger on board, a young man
named Chadwick, who had been residing in Portsmouth, and was going to
Demarara, in the hope which fortunately for him was not realized of
establishing himself in a mercantile house.

The forecastle being, for obvious reasons, untenable during the outward
passage, these ten individuals, when below deck, were stowed away in the
cabin and steerage, amid boxes, bales, chests, barrels, and water casks,
in a manner somewhat miscellaneous, and not the most commodious or
comfortable. Indeed, for several days after we left port, the usual and
almost only access to the cabin was by the skylight; and those who
made the cabin their home, were obliged to crawl on all fours over the
heterogeneous mass of materials with which it was crowded, in order to
reach their berths!

The owners of the brig must have calculated largely on favorable weather
during the passage; for had we experienced a gale on the coast, or
fallen in with the tail-end of a hurricane in the tropics, the whole
deck-load would have been swept away, and the lives of the ship's
company placed in imminent peril. The weather, however, proved
remarkably mild, and the many inconveniences to which the crew were
subjected were borne with exemplary patience, and sometimes even
regarded as a capital joke.

We passed the Whale's Back at the mouth of the Piscataqua, and the Isles
of Shoals loomed up through the hazy atmosphere; and although the wind
was light, and the sea apparently smooth, the brig began to have a
motion an awkward, uneasy motion for which I could not account, and
which, to my great annoyance, continued to increase as we left the land.
I staggered as I crossed the quarter-deck, and soon after we cleared
the harbor, came near pitching overboard from the platform covering the
sheep-pens. My head was strangely confused, and a dizziness seized me,
which I in vain struggled to shake off. My spirits, so gay and buoyant
as we sailed down the harbor, sunk to zero.

At length I could not resist the conviction that I was assailed with
symptoms of seasickness, a malady which I had always held in contempt,
believing it to exist more in imagination than in fact, and which I was
determined to resist, as unsailor-like and unmanly. Other symptoms of
a less equivocal description, soon placed the character of my illness
beyond a doubt. My woe-begone looks must have betrayed my feelings, for
one of the men told me, with a quizzical leer, that old Neptune always
exacted toll in advance from a green hand for his passage over the
waters.

Mr. Thompson, who seemed to pity my miserable condition, gravely
assured me that exercise was a capital thing as a preventive or cure for
seasickness, and advised me to try the pump. I followed his advice: a
few strokes brought up the bilge water, than which nothing at that time
could have been more insufferably nauseous! I left the pump in disgust,
and retiring to the after part of the quarter-deck, threw myself down on
a coil of rope, unable longer to struggle with my fate. There I remained
unnoticed and uncared for for several hours, when, the wind having
changed, the rope which formed my bed, and proved to be the "main
sheet," was wanted, and I was unceremoniously ejected from my quarters,
and roughly admonished to "go below and keep out of the way!" I crawled
into the cabin, and, stretched on some boxes, endeavored to get a little
sleep; but the conglomeration of smells of a most inodorous character,
which, as it seemed to my distempered fancy, pervaded every part of the
vessel, prevented my losing a sense of suffering in sleep.

As I lay musing on the changes which a few days had wrought in my
condition, and, borne down by the pangs of seasickness, was almost ready
to admit that there was prose as well as poetry in a sailor's life, I
was startled by a terrific noise, the announcement, I supposed, of some
appalling danger. I heard distinctly three loud knocks on the deck at
the entrance of the steerage, and then a sailor put his head down the
companion-way, and in a voice loud, cracked, and discordant, screamed in
a tone which I thought must have split his jaws asunder, "LA-AR-BO-A-RD
W-A-T-CH A-H-O-O-Y."

In spite of my sickness I started from my uncomfortable resting place,
scrambled into the steerage, and by a roll of the brig was tumbled under
the steps, and suffered additional pains and apprehensions before I
ascertained that the unearthly sounds which had so alarmed me were
nothing more than the usual mode of "calling the watch," or in other
words, the man with the unmusical voice had gently hinted to the
sleepers below that "turn-about was fair play," and they were wanted on
deck.

To add to my troubles, the wind in the morning shifted to the
south-east, and thus became a head wind, and the old brig became more
restless than ever, and pitched and rolled to leeward occasionally with
a lurch, performing clumsy antics in the water which my imagination
never pictured, and which I could neither admire nor applaud.

For several days we were beating about Massachusetts Bay and St.
George's Bank, making slow progress on our voyage. During that time
I was really seasick, and took little note of passing events, being
stretched on the deck, a coil of rope, or a chest, musing on the past
or indulging in gloomy reflections in regard to the future. Seasickness
never paints ideal objects of a roseate hue. Although I was not called
upon for much actual work, I received no sympathy for my miserable
condition; for seasickness, like the toothache, is seldom fatal,
notwithstanding it is as distressing a malady as is found in the
catalogue of diseases, and one for which no preventive or cure,
excepting time, has yet been discovered. Time is a panacea for every
ill; and after the lapse of ten or twelve days, as the brig was drawing
towards the latitude of Bermuda, my sickness disappeared as suddenly as
it commenced; and one pleasant morning I threw aside my shore dress, and
with it my landsman's habits and feelings. I donned my short jacket and
trousers, and felt every inch a sailor!

The Bermudas are a cluster of small islands and rocks lying in the track
of vessels bound from New England to the West Indies. The climate is
mild, and the atmosphere remarkably salubrious, while the trace of ocean
in the vicinity has long been noted for severe squalls at every season
of the year. A squall at sea no unusual occurrence is often the cause
of anxiety, being attended with danger. Sometimes the rush of wind is so
violent that nothing will resist its fury, and before the alarm is given
and the canvas reduced, the masts are blown over the side or the vessel
capsized. Therefore, on the approach of a squall, a vigilant officer
will be prepared for the worst, by shortening sail and making other
arrangements for averting the threatened danger.

I hardly knew how it happened, but one afternoon when we were a little
to the northward of Bermuda, and should have kept a lookout for squalls,
we were favored with a visit from one of a most energetic character.
Its sudden approach from under the lee was either unnoticed or unheeded
until the captain accidentally came on deck. He was instantly aware of
the perilous condition of the brig, for the "white caps" of the waves
could be distinctly seen, and even the roar of the wind could be heard
as it rushed towards us over the water. Before any orders could be
executed before the sails could be taken in, the yards braced round,
or even the helm shifted, the tempest broke over us. The rain fell
in torrents, the wind blew with tremendous violence, and a scene of
indescribable confusion ensued.

The captain stood near the companion-way, much excited, giving
directions with energy and rapidity. "Hard up your helm!" said he; "Hard
up! Lower away the mainsail! Let go the peak halliards! Why DON'T you
put the helm hard up? Let go all the halliards fore and aft! Clew down
the fore-topsail! Haul in the starboard braces! There steady with the
helm!"

The mate and sailors were running about the decks, looking frightened
and bewildered, eagerly casting loose some ropes, and pulling
desperately upon others; the sails were fluttering and shaking, as if
anxious to quit the spars and fly away to unknown regions; the brig felt
the force of the wind, and for a few moments was pressed over on her
side until her beam ends were in the water; and what with the shouting
of the captain, the answering shouts of the mate, the unearthly cries
of the sailors, as they strove to execute the orders so energetically
given; the struggling of the canvas, the roaring of the winds and the
waves, the creaking of the cordage, the beating of the rain against the
decks, and the careening of the vessel, it is not remarkable that I felt
somewhat alarmed and excited, as well as deeply interested in witnessing
for the first time in my life A SQUALL AT SEA.

The squall was of short duration; although the rain continued for a
time, the wind, after a few minutes, gave but little inconvenience. In
the course of an hour the murky clouds had disappeared, the sun shone
out brightly as it was sinking towards the horizon, and the brig was
again pursuing her way towards her destined port, urged slowly along by
a light but favorable breeze.

Having got my sea legs on, I could proudly strut about among the lumber
and sheep-pens without fear of rolling overboard. I found the sailors
a rough but good-natured set of fellows, with but little refinement in
ideas or language. Although they amused themselves with my awkwardness,
and annoyed me with practical jokes, they took a pride and pleasure
in inducting me into the mysteries of their craft. They taught me the
difference between a granny knot and a square knot; how to whip a rope's
end; form splices; braid sinnett; make a running bowline, and do a
variety of things peculiar to the web-footed gentry. Some of them also
tried hard, by precept and example, but in vain, to induce me to chew
tobacco and drink grog! Indeed, they regarded the ability to swallow a
stiff glass of New England rum, without making a wry face, as one of the
most important qualifications of a sailor!

The "old men-of-war's-men" had passed through strange and eventful
scenes; they were the type of a class of men which have long since
passed away; they could spin many a long and interesting yarn, to which
I listened with untiring eagerness. But no trait in their character
astonished me more than their uncontrollable passion for intoxicating
drinks. As cabin boy, it was my duty to serve out to the crew a half
pint of rum a day. These old Tritons eagerly looked forward to the hour
when this interesting ceremony came off; their eyes sparkled as they
received their allotted portion of this enemy to the human race; and
they practised every art to procure, by fair means or foul, an increased
allowance. If by accident or shrewd management one of them succeeded in
obtaining half a glass more than he was fairly entitled to, his triumph
was complete. But if he imagined he had not received the full quantity
which was his due, ill humor and sulky looks for the next twenty-four
hours bore testimony to his anger and disappointment. These men ignored
the good old proverb that "bread is the staff of life," and at any time,
or at all times, would prefer grog to bread.

In those days it was believed that ardent spirit would strengthen the
constitution, and enable a man to endure hardship and perform labor to a
greater extent that would be the case if he drank nothing stronger
than water. Rum was, therefore, included among the ship's stores as an
important means of keeping the ship's company in good humor, reviving
their spirits and energies when overcome with fatigue or exposure, and
strengthening them for a hard day's work.

Those days have passed away. It is now known that those doctrines were
false; that spiritous liquors, as a drink, never benefit mankind, but
have proved one of the greatest scourges with which the human race
has been afflicted. It is no longer believed that grog will insure the
faithful performance of a seaman's duty, and it is excluded from our
ships, so far as the forecastle is concerned; and if it were never
allowed to visit the cabin, the crews, in some cases, would lead happier
lives, there would be fewer instances of assault and battery, revolts
and shipwrecks, and the owners and underwriters would find the balance
at the end of the voyage more decidedly in their favor.

Among the customs on shipboard which attracted my particular attention,
was the manner in which the sailors partook of their meals. There was no
tedious ceremony or fastidious refinement witnessed on these occasions.
At twelve o'clock the orders were promptly given, "Call the watch! Hold
the reel! Pump ship! Get your dinners!" With never-failing alacrity the
watch was called, the log thrown, and the ship pumped. When these duties
were performed, a bustle was seen about the camboose, or large cooking
stove, in which the meals were prepared. In pleasant weather it was
usual for the sailors to take their meals on deck; but no table was
arranged, no table-cloth was spread, no knives and forks or spoons were
provided, no plates of any description were furnished, or glass tumblers
or earthen mugs. The preliminary arrangements were of the simplest
description.

The signal being given, the cook hastily transferred from his boilers
whatever food he had prepared, into a wooden vessel, called a kid,
resembling in size and appearance a peck measure. The kid with its
contents was deposited on the spot selected; a bag or box, containing
ship's biscuits was then produced, dinner was ready, and all hands,
nothing loth, gathered around the kid and commenced operations.

The usual fare was salt beef and bread, varied at stated times or
according to circumstances; and this has probably for centuries been the
standing dish for the forecastle in English and American ships. On this
passage, the Sunday dinner varied from the usual routine by the addition
of fresh meat. Every Sabbath morning a sheep, the finest and fattest of
the flock, was missing from the pens. Portions of the animal, however,
would appear a few hours afterwards in the shape of a luscious sea-pie
for the sailors, and in various inviting shapes during the following
week to the inmates of the cabin. This loss of property was recorded by
Mr. Thompson in the ship's log-book, with his accustomed accuracy, and
with Spartan brevity. The language he invariably used was, "A sheep died
this day."

Among the crew of the Dolphin were two weather-beaten tars, who were as
careless of their costumes as of their characters. They recked little
how ridiculously they looked, excepting in one respect. They could each
boast of a magnificent head of hair, which they allowed to grow to
a great length on the back of the head, where it was collected and
fashioned into enormous queues, which, when permitted to hang down,
reached to the small of their backs, and gave them the appearance of
Chinese mandarins, or Turkish pachas of a single tail. These tails
were their pets the only ornaments about their persons for which they
manifested any interest. This pride in their queues was the weak point
in their characters. Every Sunday they performed on each other the
operation of manipulating the pendulous ornaments, straightening them
out like magnified marlinspikes, and binding them with ribbons or
rope-yarns, tastily fastened at the extremity by a double bow knot.

Queues, in those days, were worn on the land as well as on the sea, and
were as highly prized by the owners. On the land, they were harmless
enough, perhaps, and seldom ungratefully interfered with the comfort of
their benefactors or lured them into scrapes. On shipboard the case
was different, and they sometimes proved not only superfluous but
troublesome.

On our homeward passage a case occurred which illustrated the absurdity
of wearing a queue at sea a fashion which has been obsolete for many
years. A gale of wind occurred on the coast, and the crew were ordered
aloft to reef the fore-topsail. Jim Bilton, with his queue snugly
clubbed and tucked away beneath his pea-jacket, was first on the yard,
and passed the weather ear-ring; but, unfortunately, the standing
rigging had recently been tarred, and his queue, escaping from bondage,
was blown about, the sport of the wind, and after flapping against the
yard, took a "round turn" over the lift, and stuck fast. Jim was in an
awkward position. He could not immediately disengage his queue, and
he could not willingly or conveniently leave it aloft. All hands but
himself were promptly on deck, and ready to sway up the yard. The mate
shouted to him in the full strength of his lungs to "Bear a hand and lay
in off the yard," and unjustly berated him as a "lubber," while the poor
fellow was tugging away, and working with might and main, to disengage
his tail from the lift, in which he at length succeeded, but not without
the aid of his jackknife.

I was greatly troubled during this passage by the impure character
of the water. I had been taught to place a high value on water as a
beverage; but when we had been three weeks at sea, and had entered the
warm latitudes, on knocking a bung from one of the water casks on the
quarter-deck, there issued an odor of "an ancient and fish-like" nature,
which gave offence to my olfactories. On tasting the water, I found to
my disgust that it was impregnated with a flavor of a like character,
and after it was swallowed this flavor would cling to the palate with
provoking tenacity for several minutes. The sailors smacked their lips
over it once or twice, and pronounced it "from fair to middling."
When boiled, and drank under the name of tea or coffee, it might have
deserved that character; but when taken directly from the cask, and
quaffed in hot weather, as a pleasant and refreshing beverage it was a
signal failure.

To the inmates of the cabin, myself excepted, the peculiar flavor of the
water served as an excuse, if any were required, for drawing liberally
on the brandy kegs and liquor cases. A little "dash of spirit" removed
the unpleasant taste by adding another, which, to my unsophisticated
palate, was equally offensive. The water in every cask proved of
a similar character; and I could hardly imagine how use, or even
necessity, could reconcile a person to such water as that. The problem
was solved, but not entirely to my satisfaction, on my next voyage.

The duties of cabin boy were of a nature different from my occupations
in previous years. They engrossed a considerable portion of my time;
and though they were not the kind of duties I most loved to perform, I
endeavored to accommodate my feelings to my situation, comforting myself
with the belief that the voyage would not be of long duration, and that
I was now taking the first step in the rugged path which led to fame and
fortune.

I devoted the hours which I could spare from my appropriate duties
to the acquisition of a knowledge of seamanship, and developing its
mysteries. I was fond of going aloft when the vessel was rolling or
pitching in a strong breeze. I loved to mount upon the top-gallant yard,
and from that proud eminence, while rocking to and fro, look down upon
the sails and spars of the brig, take a bird's eye view of the deck, and
scan the various operations; look at the foam beneath the bows, or at
the smooth, eddying, serpentine track left far behind. I also loved to
gaze from this elevated position upon the broad ocean, bounded on every
side by the clear and distant horizon a grand and sublime sight. And
then I indulged in daydreams of the most pleasing description, and built
gay and fantastic castles in the air, which my reason told me the next
moment would never be realized.




Chapter III. MANNING THE WOODEN WALLS OF OLD ENGLAND

One morning, soon after daybreak, as I was lying asleep in my berth,
I was awakened by a trampling on deck and loud shouts. Aware that
something unusual had occurred, I lost no time in hastening to the scene
of action. Ere I reached the deck, I heard the word "porpoises" uttered
in a loud key by one of the sailors, which explained the cause of the
excitement.

The mate, with sparkling eye and rigid features, in which determination
was strongly stamped, as if resolved "to do or die," was busily engaged
in fitting a line to the harpoon, which had been sharpened and prepared
for use some days before. I cast my eye to windward, and saw the ocean
alive with fish. Hundreds of porpoises were swimming around the brig,
crossing the bows, or following in the wake, or leaping out of water and
snuffing the air, and racing with each other as if for a wager; passing
so rapidly through the liquid element that it wearied the eye to follow
them.

The mate was soon ready with the harpoon, and took his station on the
bowsprit, within six feet of the water. The line, one end of which
was fastened to the harpoon, was rove through a block attached to the
main-topmast stay; and the cook, one of the sailors, and myself firmly
grasped the rope, and stood ready, whenever the word might be given, to
bowse the unsuspecting and deluded victim out of his native element and
introduce him to the ship's company.

Mr. Thompson stood on the bowsprit, poising the death-dealing
instrument, and with a keen eye watched the gambols of the fish. He
looked as formidable and fierce as a Paladin intent on some daring and
desperate enterprise. As I eyed him with admiration and envy I wondered
if the time would ever arrive when, clad with authority, I should
exercise the privilege of wielding the harpoon and striking a porpoise!
Several of these interesting fish, not aware of the inhospitable
reception awaiting them, and seemingly prompted by curiosity, rapidly
approached the brig. "Stand by, my lads!" exclaimed the mate, his
face lighted by a gleam of anticipated triumph. One huge fellow passed
directly beneath the bowsprit, and Mr. Thompson let drive the harpoon
with all the strength and energy he possessed. We hauled upon the line
with vigor alas! It required but little exertion to haul it in; the mate
had missed his mark.

In a few minutes another of these portly inhabitants of the deep came
rolling along with a rowdy, swaggering gait, close to the surface of the
water. The mate, cool and collected, took a careful aim, and again threw
the iron, which entered his victim, and then shouted with the voice of a
Stentor, "Haul in! Haul in!" And we did haul in; but the fish was strong
and muscular, and struggled hard for liberty and life. In spite of our
prompt and vigorous exertions, he was dragged under the brig's bottom;
and if he had not been struck in a workmanlike manner, the harpoon
would have drawn out, and the porpoise would have escaped, to be torn
to pieces by his unsympathizing companions. As it was, after a severe
struggle on both sides, we roused him out of the water, when the mate
called for the jib down-haul, with which he made a running bowline,
which was clapped over his tail and drawn tight; and in this inglorious
manner he was hauled in on the deck.

The porpoise is a fish five or six feet in length, weighing from one
hundred and fifty to three hundred pounds. The name is derived from the
Italian word PORCO-PERCE, or hog-fish; and indeed this animal resembles
a hog in many respects. It has a long head, terminated by a projection
of its jaws, which are well filled with sharp teeth, white as polished
ivory. The body is covered with a coat of fat, or blubber, from one to
three inches in thickness, which yields abundance of excellent oil;
and the flesh beneath is not very unlike that of a hog, but more oily,
coarser, and of a darker color. The flesh, excepting the harslet, is
not much prized, though some sailors are fond of it, and rejoice at the
capture of a porpoise, which gives them an agreeable change of diet.

A few days after this event, being to the southward of Bermuda, I
climbed to the fore-top-gallant yard, and casting my eyes around, saw
on the verge of the horizon a white speck, which made a singular
appearance, contrasting, as it did, with the dark hue of the ocean and
the clear azure of a cloudless sky, I called to a sailor who was at work
in the cross-trees, and pointed it out to him. As soon as he saw it he
exclaimed, "Sail, ho!"

The captain was on the quarter-deck, and responded to the announcement
by the inquiry of "Where away?"

"About three points on the larboard bow," was the rejoinder.

We had not spoken a vessel since we left Portsmouth. Indeed, we had seen
none, excepting a few fishing smacks on St. George's Bank. The sight of
a vessel on the broad ocean ordinarily produces considerable excitement;
and this excitement is of a pleasing character when there is no reason
to believe the stranger an enemy. It varies the incidents of a tedious
passage, and shows that you are not alone on the face of the waters;
that others are traversing the ocean and tempting its dangers, urged by
a love of adventure or thirst of gain.

The captain looked at the strange vessel through his spy-glass, and said
it was standing towards us. We approached each other rapidly, for the
stranger carried a cloud of sail, and was evidently a fast sailer. By
the peculiar color and cut of the canvas, the captain was led to
believe we were about to be overhauled by a British man-of-war. This
announcement gave me pleasure. I longed for an opportunity to behold one
of that class of vessels, of which I had heard so much. But all the crew
did not participate in my feelings. Two of the sailors, whom I had good
reason to believe were not "native Americans," although provided with
American protections, looked unusually grave when the captain expressed
his opinion, manifested no little anxiety, and muttered bitter curses
against the English men-of-war!

I then learned that the British navy "the wooden walls of Old England"
whose vaunted prowess was in every mouth, was manned almost exclusively
by men who did not voluntarily enter the service, prompted by a feeling
of patriotism, a sense of honor, or the expectation of emolument, but
were victims to the unjust and arbitrary system of impressment.

It is singular that in the early part of the present century, when
Clarkson, Wilberforce, and other philanthropists, with a zeal and
perseverance which reflects immortal honor on their names, labored
unceasingly and successfully to abolish an important branch of the
African slave trade, no voice was raised in the British parliament to
abolish the impressment of seamen a system of slavery as odious, unjust
and degrading, as was ever established by a despotic government!

At that time Great Britain was engaged in sanguinary wars, and her flag
was borne by her ships on every sea. It was difficult to man her navy,
the pay being small, and the penalties for misconduct or venial errors
terribly severe. Therefore, when on the ocean, British ships of war
in want of men were in the habit of impressing sailors from merchant
vessels, and often without regard to national character. American ships
were fired at, brought to, and strictly searched by these tyrants of the
ocean; and when foreigners were found on board, whether British, Swedes,
Dutch, Russians, Norwegians, or Spaniards, they were liable to be
claimed as fit persons to serve "His Majesty." In spite of remonstrances
and menaces, they were conveyed on board the British men-of-war,
doomed to submit to insult and injustice, and to risk their lives while
fighting in quarrels in which they felt no interest.

British seamen were seized wherever met, whether pursuing their lawful
business on the high seas, or while on shore walking quietly through the
streets of a city or town; even in the bosom of their families, or when
quietly reposing on their pillows! Press-gangs, composed of desperate
men, headed by resolute and unscrupulous officers, were constantly on
the lookout for men, and took them, sometimes after hard fighting,
and dragged them away to undergo the horrors of slavery on board a
man-of-war!

It is not remarkable that a sailor in those days should have dreaded a
"man-of-war" as the most fearful of evils, and would resort to desperate
means to avoid impressment or escape from bondage. Those few fortunate
men, who, by resolution or cunning, had succeeded in escaping from their
sea-girt prisons, detailed the treatment they had received with minute
and hideous accuracy to others; and that they could not have exaggerated
the statements is proved by the risks they voluntarily encountered to
gain their freedom. The bullets of the marines on duty, the fear of
the voracious shark in waters where they abounded, the dangers of a
pestilential climate, or the certainty, if retaken, of being subjected
to a more revolting and excruciating punishment than was every devised
by the Spanish Inquisition FLOGGING THROUGH THE FLEET could not deter
British seamen from attempting to flee from their detested prison-house.

American seamen were sometimes forcibly taken from American ships,
and their protestations against the outrage, and their repeated
declarations, "I am an American citizen!" served only as amusement to
the kidnappers. Letters which they subsequently wrote to their friends,
soliciting their aid, or the intercession of the government, seldom
reached their destination. It was rarely that the poor fellows were
heard of after they were pressed on board a man-of-war. They died of
disease in pestilential climates, or fell in battle while warring in
behalf of a government they hated, and principles with which they had no
sympathy.

This gross violation of the laws of nations and the principles of
justice furnished one of the strongest motives for the war which was
declared in 1812.

Nor were these insults on the part of British cruisers confined to
American merchant ships. Our government vessels were, in more than one
instance, boarded with a view to examine the crews and take the men,
if any, who happened to be born under the British flag. A successful
attempt was made in the case of the Chesapeake, which frigate, under the
command of Commodore Barron, made a feeble show of resistance, and was
fired into in a time of peace, several of her crew killed and wounded,
and compelled to strike her colors! The Chesapeake was then boarded, and
the Englishmen found on board were seized upon and transferred to the
British ship!

 An attempt of a similar kind was made some years before, but
with a different result. When the heroic Tingey commanded the Ganges,
in 1799, being off Cape Nicola Mole, he was boarded by a boat from the
English frigate Surprise, and a demand was very coolly made that all the
Englishmen on board the Ganges should be given up, as they were wanted
for the service of His Majesty, George III!

Captain Tingey returned the following noble reply: "Give my respects to
your commander; the respects of Captain Tingey, of the American navy;
and tell him from me, that A PUBLIC SHIP CARRIES NO PROTECTION FOR HER
MEN BUT HER FLAG! I may not succeed in a contest with you, but I will
die at my quarters before a man shall be taken from my ship!"

The crew gave three cheers, hastened with alacrity to their guns, and
called for "Yankee Doodle." The captain of the Surprise, although one
of the bravest officers in the British service, on hearing the
determination of the Yankee, chose rather to continue on his cruise than
do battle for dead men.

In less than an hour after the strange sail was seen from the decks of
the Dolphin the surmises of the captain were proved to be correct. The
stranger was undoubtedly an English brig-of-war of the largest class.
We could see the port-holes, through which the cannon protruded, and
distinguish the gleam of muskets and cutlasses, and other instruments of
destruction. The sails were so large and so neatly fitted, and the hull
was so symmetrical in its model, and the brig glided along so gracefully
over the waves, that I was charmed with her appearance, and could hardly
express my satisfaction.

We continued on our course, with the American ensign flying, our captain
hoping that this emissary of John Bull, seeing the character of our
vessel, which no one could mistake, would suffer us to pass on our way
unmolested, when a volume of flame and smoke issued from the bow of
the sloop-of-war, and a messenger, in the shape of a cannon ball, came
whistling over the waves, and, after crossing our bows in a diagonal
direction, and striking the surface of the water several times, buried
itself in a huge billow at no great distance. This was language that
required no interpreter. It was a mandate that must be obeyed. The helm
was ordered "hard-a-lee," the foresail hauled up, and the topsail laid
to the mast.

The armed brig hoisted British colors, and her boat was soon alongside
the Dolphin. An officer sprang on board, followed by several sailors.
With an off-hand, swaggering air, the officer addressed Captain Tilton,
demanding where we were from, whither we were bound, and the character
of our cargo. He then expressed an intention to examine the ship's
papers, and went with the captain into the cabin for that purpose. When
they returned on deck, Captain Tilton ordered the mate to summon aft the
crew. This was not a work of difficulty, for they were standing in the
waist, deeply interested spectators of the proceedings. At least three
of them were trembling with fear, and speculating on the chances of
being again impressed on board an English man-of-war.

"Where are these men's protections?" demanded the lieutenant.

By "protection," was meant a printed certificate, under the signature
and seal of the collector of one of the revenue districts in the United
States, stating that the person, whose age, height, and complexion
were particularly described, had adduced satisfactory proof of being
an American citizen. An American seaman found without this document,
whether in a foreign port or on the high seas, was looked upon as an
Englishman, notwithstanding the most conclusive proof to the contrary,
and regardless of his rights or the engagements by which he might be
bound, was dragged on board a man-of-war as a lawful prize.

"Here are the protections," said Captain Tilton, handing the papers to
the Englishman.

The men were, one by one, examined, to see if the descriptions
corresponded with their persons. They were found to correspond exactly.

The officer was not to be easily balked of his prey. Turning suddenly to
one of them, a weather-beaten, case-hardened old tar, who wore a queue,
and whose name was borne on the shipping paper as Harry Johnson, he
sternly asked, "How long is it since you left His Majesty's service?"

The poor fellow turned pale as death. He lifted his hand to his hat, in
a most anti-republican style, and stammered out something indistinctly.

"'Tis of no use, Johnson," exclaimed the officer. "I see how it is; and
we must be better acquainted. Your protection was obtained by perjury.
Get ready to go in the boat."

In vain Captain Tilton represented that Johnson was sailing under the
American flag; that he had the usual certificate of being an American
citizen; that his vessel was already short manned, considering the
peculiar character of the cargo, and if his crew should be reduced, he
might find himself unable to manage the brig in heavy weather, which
there was reason to expect at that season in the latitude of the West
Indies.

To these representations the lieutenant replied in a brief and dry
manner. He said the man was an Englishman, and was wanted. He repeated
his orders to Johnson, in a more peremptory tone, to "go in the boat."

To the threats of the captain that he would lay the matter before
Congress, and make it a national affair, the officer seemed altogether
indifferent. He merely bade his trembling victim "bear a hand," as he
wished to return to the brig without delay.

When Johnson saw there was no alternative, that his fate was fixed, he
prepared to meet it like a man. He looked at the American ensign, which
was waving over his head, and said it was a pity the American flag could
not protect those who sailed under it from insult and outrage. He
shook each of us by the hand, gave us his best wishes, and followed his
baggage into the boat, which immediately shoved off.

The officer told Captain Tilton that when the British ensign was hauled
down, he might fill away, and proceed on his voyage. In about fifteen
minutes the ensign was hauled down. Orders were given to fill away
the foretopsail. The helm was put up, and we resumed our course for
Demarara.

Steering to the southward, we reached that narrow belt of the Atlantic,
called "the doldrums," which lies between the variable and the trade
winds. This tract is from two to three degrees in width, and is usually
fallen in with soon after crossing the thirtieth degree of latitude.
Here the wind is apt to be light and baffling at all seasons; and
sometimes calms prevail for several days. This tract of ocean was once
known as the "horse latitudes," because many years ago vessels from
Connecticut were in the habit of taking deck-loads of horses to the
West India islands, and it not unfrequently happened that these vessels,
being for the most part dull sailers, were so long detained in those
latitudes that their hay, provender, and water were expended, and the
animals died of hunger and thirst.

The Dolphin was a week in crossing three degrees of latitude. Indeed it
was a calm during a considerable portion of that time. This drew largely
on the patience of the captain, mate, and all hands. There are few
things so annoying to a sailor at sea as a calm. A gale of wind, even a
hurricane, with its life, its energy, its fury, though it may bring
the conviction of danger, is preferred by an old sailor to the dull,
listless monotony of a calm.

These slow movements in the "horse latitudes" were not distasteful to
me. A calm furnished abundant food for curiosity. The immense fields of
gulf-weed, with their parasitical inhabitants, that we now began to
fall in with; the stately species of nautilus, known as he Portuguese
man-of-war, floating so gracefully, with its transparent body and
delicate tints; and the varieties of fish occasionally seen, including
the flying-fish, dolphin, boneta, and shark, all furnish to an inquiring
mind subjects of deep and abiding interest. My wonder was also excited
by the singularly glassy smoothness of the surface of the water in a
dead calm, while at the same time the long, rolling waves, or "seas,"
kept the brig in perpetual motion, and swept past as if despatched by
some mysterious power on a mission to the ends of the earth.

Several kinds of fish that are met with on the ocean are really
palatable, and find a hearty welcome in the cabin and the forecastle. To
capture these denizens of the deep, a line, to which is attached a large
hook baited with a small fish, or a piece of the rind of pork, shaped
to resemble a fish, is sometimes kept towing astern in pleasant weather.
This was the custom on board the Dolphin; and one afternoon, when the
brig, fanned by gentle zephyrs, hardly had "steerage way," my attention
was aroused by an exulting shout from the man at the helm, followed by a
solemn asserveration, that "a fish was hooked at last."

All was bustle and excitement. Discipline was suddenly relaxed, and the
captain, mate, and crew mounted the taffrail forthwith to satisfy their
curiosity in regard to the character of the prowling intruder, which was
distinctly seen struggling in the wake. It proved to be a shark. But
the fellow disdained to be captured by such ignoble instruments as a cod
line and a halibut hook. He remained comparatively passive for a time,
and allowed himself to be hauled, by the united efforts of the crew,
some three or four fathoms towards the brig, when, annoyed by the
restraint imposed upon him, or disliking the wild and motley appearance
of the ship's company, he took a broad sheer to starboard, the hook
snapped like a pipestem, and the hated monster swam off in another
direction, wagging his tail in the happy consciousness that he was
"free, untrammelled, and disinthralled."

"Never mind," said Mr. Thompson, making an effort to console himself for
the disappointment, "we'll have the rascal yet."

The shark manifested no disposition to leave our neighborhood, or in
any other way showed displeasure at the trick we had played him. On the
contrary, he drew nearer the vessel, and moved indolently and defiantly
about, with his dorsal fin and a portion of his tail above the water.
He was undoubtedly hungry as well as proud, and it is well known that
sharks are not particular with regard to the quality of their food.
Every thing that is edible, and much which is indigestible, is greedily
seized and devoured by these voracious fish.

We had no shark hook on board; nevertheless, the mate lost no time in
making arrangements to capture this enemy of sailors. He fastened a
piece of beef to the end of a rope and threw it overboard, letting it
drag astern. This attracted the attention of the shark, who gradually
approached the tempting morsel, regarding it with a wistful eye, but
with a lurking suspicion that all was not right.

It was now seen that the shark was not alone, but was attended by
several fish of small size, beautifully mottled, and measuring from four
to eight or ten inches in length. They swam boldly around the shark,
above and beneath him, and sometimes passed directly in front of his
jaws, while the shark manifested no desire to seize his companions and
satisfy his hunger. These were "pilot fish," and in the neighborhood
of the tropics a shark is seldom seen without one or more attendants of
this description.

Two of these pilot fish swam towards the beef, examined it carefully
with their eyes, and rubbed it with their noses, and then returned
to their lord and master. It required but a slight stretch of the
imagination to suppose that these well-meaning servants made a favorable
report, and whispered in his ear that "all was right," and thus
unwittingly betrayed him to his ruin.

Be that as it will, the shark now swam boldly towards the beef, as if
eager to devour it; but Mr. Thompson hauled upon the rope until the
precious viand was almost directly beneath the taffrail. In the mean
time the mate had caused a running bowline, or noose, to be prepared
from a small but strong rope. This was lowered over the stern into the
water, and by a little dexterous management, the shark was coaxed to
enter it in his eagerness to get at the beef. The mate let fall the
running part of the bowline and hauled upon the other, and to the utter
bewilderment of the hungry monster, he found himself entrapped in the
power of his mortal enemies being firmly and ingloriously fastened by
the tail. When he discovered the inhospitable deception of which he was
the victim he appeared angry, and made furious efforts to escape; but
the rope was strong, and his struggles served only to draw the noose
tighter.

The shark was hauled on board, and made a terrible flouncing on the
quarter-deck before he could be despatched. It was interesting to
witness the eagerness with which he was assailed by the sailors. This
animal is regarded as their most inveterate foe, and they seize with
avidity any chance to diminish the numbers of these monsters of the
deep. It was some time before he would succumb to the murderous attacks
of his enemies. He wreaked his vengeance on the ropes around him, and
severed them with his sharp teeth as completely and smoothly as if they
had been cut with a knife. But when his head was nearly cut off, and
his skull beat in by the cook's axe and handspikes, the shark, finding
further resistance impossible as well as useless, resigned himself to
his fate.

Sharks not unfrequently follow a vessel in moderate weather for several
days, and in tropical latitudes sometimes lurk under a ship's bottom,
watching a chance to gratify their appetites. For this reason it is
dangerous for a person to bathe in the sea during a calm, as they are by
no means choice in regard to their food, but will as readily make a meal
from the leg of a sailor as from the wing of a chicken.

Mr. Thompson related a case which occurred on board a vessel belonging
to Portsmouth, the year before, and to which he was a witness. One
Sunday morning, in the warm latitudes, while the sea was calm, a young
man, on his first voyage, quietly undressed himself, and without a
word to any one, thoughtlessly mounted the cathead and plunged into
the water. He swam off some distance from the ship, and laughing and
shouting, seemed greatly to admire the refreshing exercise. The captain,
on being informed of his imprudent conduct, called to him, rebuked him
severely, and ordered him to return immediately to the ship. The young
sailor turned about, wondering what impropriety there could be in
taking a pleasant bath during such sultry weather. He swam beneath
the fore-chain-wales, and took hold of a rope to aid him in getting on
board. A couple of his shipmates also seized him by the wrists to assist
him in climbing up the side. For a moment he remained motionless, with
half his body in the water, when a huge shark, that had been lying in
wait under the ship's bottom, seized him by the leg. The unfortunate
young man uttered the most piteous screams, and every one was
instinctively aware of the cause of his terrible agony. The captain
ordered the men who held the arms of the sufferer to "hold on," and
jumped in the chain-wale himself to assist them. By main strength the
poor fellow was dragged fainting on board; but his foot was torn off,
together with a portion of the integuments of the leg, and the bones
were dreadfully crushed. He lived in agony a few days, when he expired.
Incidents of this nature will satisfactorily account for the hatred
which a sailor bears towards a shark.




Chapter IV. LAND, HO!

On the day succeeding the capture of the shark a fine breeze sprung
up. Once more the white foam appeared beneath the bows, as the old brig
plunged, and rolled, and wriggled along on her way towards Demarara.
With a strong breeze on the quarter, it required not only labor, but
skill, to steer the interesting craft. One of the "old salts," having
been rebuked by the captain for steering wildly, declared, in a grave
but respectful tone, that he could steer as good a trick at the helm as
any man who ever handled a marlinspike; but he "verily believed the old
critter knew as much as a Christian, and was obstinately determined to
turn round and take a look at her starn!"

The regular "trade wind" now commenced, and there was a prospect,
although still a distant one, of ultimately reaching the port to
which we were bound. The trade winds blow almost constantly from one
direction, and prevail in most parts of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans,
between the latitudes of twenty-eight degrees north and twenty-eight
degrees south. In northern latitudes the trade wind blows from
north-east, or varies but a few points from that direction. South of
the equator it blows constantly from the south-east; and the "south-east
trade" is more steady than the trade wind north of the line.

It often happens that vessels bound to the United States from India,
after passing the Cape of Good Hope, steer a course nearly north-west,
carrying studding-sails on both sides, uninterruptedly, through fifteen
or twenty degrees of latitude.

The cause of the trade winds is supposed to be the joint influence of
the higher temperature of the torrid zone and the rotation of the earth
on its axis. On the equator, and extending sometimes a few degrees on
either side, is a tract where light easterly winds, calms, and squalls,
with thunder, lightning, and inundating rains, prevail.

From what I have said, it will be seen that vessels bound from the
American coast to the West Indies or Guiana should steer to the eastward
in the early part of their passage, while they have the advantage of
variable winds. And this precaution is the more important, as these
vessels, being generally dull sailers and deeply laden, will fail to
reach their port if they fall to leeward, unless by returning north into
the latitude of the variable winds, and making another trial, with the
benefit of more experience.

In those days there were no chronometers in use, and but few of our West
India captains were in possession of a sextant, or indeed able to work
a lunar observation. The latitude was accurately determined every day
by measuring the altitude of the sun as it passed the meridian. To
ascertain the longitude was a more difficult matter. They were obliged
to rely mainly on their dead reckoning; that is, to make a calculation
of the course and distance run daily, from the points steered by the
compass and the rate as indicated by the log-line and half-glass. A
reckoning on such a basis, where unknown currents prevail, where
a vessel is steered wildly, or where the rate of sailing may be
inaccurately recorded, is liable to many errors; therefore it was
customary with all prudent masters, in those days, especially if they
distrusted their own skill or judgment in keeping a reckoning to KEEP
WELL TO THE EASTWARD. This was a general rule, and looked upon as the
key to West India navigation. Sometimes a vessel bound to the Windward
Islands, after reaching the latitude of her destined port, found it
necessary to "run down," steering due west, a week or ten days before
making the land.

An incident occurred in those waters, a few weeks after we passed
over them, which will illustrate this mode of navigation, and the
consequences that sometimes attend it. A large brig belonging to an
eastern port, and commanded by a worthy and cautious man, was bound to
St. Pierre in Martinico. The latitude of that island was reached in due
time, but the island could not bee seen, the captain having steered well
to the eastward. The brig was put before the wind, and while daylight
lasted every stitch of canvas was spread, and every eye was strained to
catch a glimpse of the high land which was expected to loom up in the
western horizon. This proceeding continued for several days; the brig
carrying a press of sail by day, and lying to by night, until patience
seemed no longer a virtue. The worthy captain began to fear he had not
steered far enough to the eastward, but had been carried by unknown
currents to leeward of his port, and that the first land he should make
might prove to be the Musquito coast on the continent. He felt anxious,
and looked in vain for a vessel from which he could obtain a hint in
regard to his true position. Neither land nor vessel could he meet with.

At the close of the fifth day after he had commenced "running down," no
land, at sunset, was in sight from the top-gallant yard; and at eight
o'clock the brig was again hove to. The captain declared with emphasis,
that unless he should make the island of Martinico on the following day,
he would adopt some different measures. The nature of those measures,
however, he never was called upon to explain. In the morning, just
as the gray light of dawn was visible in the east, while a dark cloud
seemed to hang over the western horizon, all sail was again packed
on the brig. A fresh breeze which sprung up during the night gave
the captain assurance that his passage would soon be terminated; and
terminated it was, but in a manner he hardly anticipated, and which he
certainly had not desired. The brig had not been fifteen minutes under
way when the dreadful sound of breakers was heard a sound which strikes
dismay to a sailor's heart. The dark cloud in the west proved to be
the mountains of Martinico, and the brig was dashed upon the shore. The
vessel and cargo were lost, and it was with difficulty the crew were
saved.

Captain Tilton, however, was a good navigator. He had been a European
trader, understood and practised "lunar observations," and always knew
with sufficient accuracy the position of the brig.

Few things surprised me more on my first voyage to sea than the sudden
and mysterious manner in which the coverings of the head were spirited
away from the decks of the Dolphin. Hats, caps, and even the temporary
apologies for such articles of costume, were given unwittingly and most
unwillingly to the waves. A sudden flaw of wind, the flap of a sail, an
involuntary jerk of the head, often elicited an exclamation of anger or
a torrent of invectives from some unfortunate being who had been
cruelly rendered bareheaded, attended with a burst of laughter from
unsympathizing shipmates.

The inimitable Dickens, in his best production, says, with all the
shrewdness and point of a practical philosopher, "There are very few
moments in a man's existence when he experiences so much ludicrous
distress, or meets with so little commiseration, as when he is in
pursuit of his own hat." But, unfortunately, on shipboard, if a man's
hat is taken off by the wind, he cannot chase it and recover it; nor is
it swept from his sight into the DEPTHS of the sea. On looking astern,
he will see it gracefully and sportively riding on the billows, as if
unconscious of any impropriety, reckless of the inconvenience which such
desertion may cause its rightful proprietor, and an object of wonder, it
may be, to the scaly inhabitants of old Neptune's dominions.

Before we reached Demarara every hat and cap belonging to the ship's
company, with a single exception, had been involuntarily given, as a
propitiatory offering, to the god of Ocean. This exception was a beaver
hat belonging to the captain; and this would have followed its leaders,
had it not been kept in a case hermetically sealed. After the captain's
stock of sea-going hats and caps had disappeared he wore around his
head a kerchief, twisted fancifully, like a turban. Others followed
his example, while some fashioned for themselves skullcaps of fantastic
shapes from pieces of old canvas; so that when we reached Demarara we
looked more like a ship's company of Mediterranean pirates than honest
Christians.

I became accustomed to a sea life, and each succeeding day brought with
it some novelty to wonder at or admire. The sea is truly beautiful, and
has many charms, notwithstanding a fresh-water poet, affecting to be
disgusted with its monotony, has ill naturedly vented his spleen by
describing the vanities of a sea life in two short lines:

     "Where sometimes you ship a sea,
     And sometimes see a ship."

Yet in spite of its attractions, there are few persons, other than a
young enthusiast on his first voyage, who, after passing several weeks
on the ocean, are not ready to greet with gladness the sight of land,
although it may be a desolate shore or a barren island. Its very aspect
fills the heart with joy, and excites feelings of gratitude to Him,
whose protecting hand has led you safely through the dangers to which
those who frequent the waste of waters are exposed.

The gratification of every man on board the Dolphin may therefore
be conceived, when, after a passage of FIFTY-THREE DAYS, in a very
uncomfortable and leaky vessel, a man, sent one morning by the captain
to the fore-top-gallant yard, after taking a bird's eye view from his
elevated position, called out, in a triumphant voice, LAND, HO!

The coast of Guiana was in sight.

Guiana is an extensive tract of country, extending along the sea
coast from the Orinoco to the Amazon. When discovered in 1504, it was
inhabited by the Caribs. Settlements, however, were soon made on the
shore by the Dutch, the French, and the Portuguese; and the country was
divided into several provinces. It was called by the discoverers "the
wild coast," and is accessible only by the mouths of its rivers the
shores being every where lined with dangerous banks, or covered with
impenetrable forests. Its appearance from the sea is singularly wild and
uncultivated, and it is so low and flat that, as it is approached, the
trees along the beach are the first objects visible. The soil, however,
is fertile, and adapted to every variety of tropical production, sugar,
rum, molasses, coffee, and cacao being its staple commodities.

To the distance of thirty or forty miles from the sea coast the land
continues level, and in the rainy season some districts are covered with
water. Indeed, the whole country bordering on the coast is intersected
with swamps, marshes, rivers, artificial canals, and extensive
intervals. This renders it unhealthy; and many natives of a more genial
clime have perished in the provinces of Guiana by pestilential fevers.

These marshes and forests are nurseries of reptiles. Alligators of
immense size are found in the rivers, creeks, and pools, and serpents
are met with on the swampy banks of the river, as large as the
main-topmast of a merchant ship, and much larger! The serpents being
amphibious, often take to the water, and being driven unconsciously
down the rivers by the currents, have been fallen in with on the coast
several miles from the land.

An incident took place on this coast in 1841, on board the bark Jane, of
Boston, Captain Nickerson, which created quite a sensation on the decks
of that vessel. The bark was ready for sea, and had anchored in the
afternoon outside the bar at the mouth of the Surinam River, when
the crew turned in and the watch was set that night. The bark was a
well-conditioned, orderly vessel, harboring no strangers, interlopers,
or vagrants of any description.

The next morning, soon after daybreak, the mate put his hand into an
open locker, at a corner of the round-house, for a piece of canvas,
when it came in contact with a soft, clammy substance, which, to his
consternation and horror, began to move! He drew back, uttering an
exclamation, in a voice so loud and startling as to alarm the captain
and all hands, who hastened on deck in time to see an enormous serpent
crawl sluggishly out of the closet, and stretch himself along the deck,
with as much coolness and impudence as if he thought he really belonged
to the brig, and with the monkeys and parrots, constituted a portion of
the ship's company!

Not so thought Captain Nickerson and the brave men with him. The word
was passed along "There is a snake on board, as long as the main-top
bowline! Kill him, kill him!"

The sailors seized handspikes, the cook flourished his tormentors, the
mate wielded an axe, and the captain grasped a pistol! Thus equipped and
armed, they rushed to the encounter.

The reptile found himself among foes instead of friends. Where he looked
for hospitality and kind treatment he found cruelty, oppression, and
even murder! He saw it was useless to contend against his fate when the
odds were so decidedly against him, and wisely made no resistance. He
was stabbed by the cook, cudgelled by the crew, brained by the mate, and
shot by the captain. And, adding insult to injury, he was stripped of
his skin, which was beautifully variegated and measured fourteen feet in
length, and brought to Boston, where it was examined and admired by many
of the citizens.

This snake was doubtless an aboma, a species of serpent of large size
and great beauty, which is not venomous. In attempting to cross the
river, it had probably been drifted down with the current, and carried
out to sea. It might have been swimming about in the waters for some
time without finding a resting-place, and, having fallen in with a
vessel at anchor, thought no harm would accrue to itself or others if it
should silently glide on board through the rudder-hole, and take up its
residence for the night. But Captain Nickerson entertained a different
opinion. He looked upon "his snakesnip" as an "ugly customer," and gave
him a reception as such.

In the course of the day on which land was discovered we reached
the mouth of Demarara River, and received a pilot on board, and a
queer-looking fellow, for a pilot I thought him. He was a negro, with
a skin dark as ebony, which shone with an exquisite polish. His costume
was simplicity itself consisting of an old straw hat, and a piece
of coarse "osnaburg" tied around the waist! But he was active and
intelligent, notwithstanding his costume and color, and carried the
brig over the bar in safety. Soon after twilight the Dolphin was snugly
anchored in smooth water in the river opposite the capital of the
province.

The next morning, at an early hour, I went on deck, anxious to
scrutinize the surrounding objects. The river was about a mile and a
half wide, the tide flowed with great rapidity, and the waters were
turbid in the extreme. The shores were lined with trees and shrubs,
presenting nothing of an attractive character. A number of vessels,
chiefly English and American, were moored in the river, engaged in
taking in or discharging cargoes; and sundry small schooners, called
"droghers," manned by blacks, nearly naked, were sailing up or down the
river, laden with produce.

The town, half concealed in the low, swampy grounds, appeared
insignificant and mean, and the wharves and landing places at the
river's side were neither picturesque nor beautiful. The architecture of
the houses, however, with porticoes, verandas, and terraces, excited my
admiration. I also saw, in the distance, palm and cocoanut trees, and
banana and plantain shrubs, with leaves six or eight feet long. These
Various objects, with the sultry stagnation of the atmosphere, and the
light and airy costume of those of the inhabitants I had seen convinced
me that I was not laboring under a dream, but was actually in a foreign
port, two thousand miles from home, and in a tropical climate.

The following day being Sunday, I accompanied Mr. Thompson on a visit
to the market, in order to obtain a supply of fresh provisions and
vegetables. I was surprised to find the public market open on the
Sabbath. The very idea of such a custom conflicted with my pre-conceived
notions of propriety and religion. But Sunday was a great holiday in
Demarara indeed the only day which the slaves on the plantations could
call their own. On Sunday they were allowed to visit each other, frolic
as they pleased, cultivate their little gardens, make their purchases
at the shops which were open on that day, and carry their produce to
market.

Hence the spacious market square, in the midst of the town, was covered
with articles of traffic. The venders were chiefly negro women, who
exposed for sale immense quantities of yams, tomatoes, cassava bread,
sugar-cane, plantains, water-cresses, oranges, bananas, avocado pears,
etc., with fancy articles of almost every description.

The scene was a novel and interesting one. The market women were habited
in garments of a marvelously scanty pattern, better adapted to the
sultry character of the climate than to the notions of delicacy which
prevail among civilized people in a more northern clime. The head-dress
consisted, in almost every instance, of a calico kerchief, of gaudy
colors, fantastically wreathed around the head. They were respectful in
their deportment, exhibited their wares to the best advantage, and with
cheerful countenances and occasional jokes, accompanied with peals of
merry laughter, seemed happier than millionaires or kings! Their dialect
was a strange jumble of Dutch, English, and African. All were fond of
talking, and, like aspiring politicians in happy New England, neglected
no chance to display their extraordinary power of language. And such
a jabbering, such a confusion of tongues, as I listened to that Sunday
morning in the market-place of Demarara, overwhelmed me with wonder, and
days elapsed before I could get the buzz out of my head!

In answer to inquiries relative to the health of the place, it was
gratifying to learn that the province had not been so free from yellow
fever at that season for several years. While the Dolphin remained in
port but few fatal cases occurred in the harbor, and the origin of those
could be traced to intemperance or other imprudent conduct. There was
no serious sickness on board the brig while we remained, and only one
"regular drunken scrape." This occurred a few days after we arrived in
port. Two of the crew, on some plausible pretext, one afternoon obtained
leave of Mr. Thompson to go on shore. He cautioned them to keep sober,
and be early on board, and they solemnly promised to comply with his
instructions.

But these "noble old tars" had no sooner set their feet upon the land
than they rushed to a grog shop. It is well know that grog shops are
found in abundance in all parts of the world where civilization extends
its genial influence. Temptations of the most alluring character are
every where offered to weak-minded and unprincipled men to abandon the
prerogative of reason and become brutes. In exchange for their money,
these sailors procured the means of becoming drunk! They quarreled with
the shopkeeper, insulted his customers, were severely threshed for their
brutality and insolence, and were finally picked up in the street, and
brought on board by two of the crew of an American vessel which was
moored near the Dolphin.

They looked wretchedly enough. Their clothes, which were neat and trim
when they went ashore, were mostly torn from their backs, their faces
were bruised and bloody, and their eyes surrounded by livid circles.
Their shipmates, seeing their degraded condition, assisted them on
board, and persuaded them to go into the forecastle, which was now
appropriated to the accommodation of the ship's company. But instead of
retiring to their berths, and sleeping off the effects of their liquor,
these men determined to have a ROW.

The craziest of them made his way on deck, and began to sing, and
dance, and halloo like a madman. One of his shipmates, named Wilkins,
remonstrated against such unruly conduct, and received in return a blow
on the side of the head, which sent him with great force against the
gunwale. The peacemaker, indignant at such unexpected and undeserved
treatment, returned the blow with interest. The other inebriate, hearing
the disturbance, came to the assistance of his drunken companion. A
general fight ensued; some heavy blows were interchanged, and for a few
minutes there was a scene of confusion, profanity, and hard fighting on
the decks of the Dolphin, which showed me a new, and not very attractive
phase in the sailor's character.

Mr. Thompson, armed with authority and a heaver, soon made his
appearance among them, and with the assistance of the sober ones, after
a severe struggle, succeeded in mastering and pinioning the two men,
who, though in full possession of their physical faculties, were
actually crazed with alcoholic drinks. When thus rendered harmless,
their yells were terrific, until it was found necessary for the peace
of the harbor to GAG THEM; which was done by gently placing an iron
pump-bolt between the jaws of each of the maniacs, and fastening it by
a rope-yarn behind the ear. Thus, unable to give utterance to their
feelings, and exhausted by fruitless struggles, they fell asleep.

In the morning cool reflection came. They looked as ruefully as Don
Quixote after his battle with the shepherds, and bore as many marks of
the prowess of their opponents. But, unlike "the Knight of the Rueful
Countenance," they seemed heartily ashamed of their exploits, and
promised better behavior in future.

Nevertheless, a few days after this affair, Jim Bilton, one of the men
who had figured so conspicuously in the row, and owed Wilkins a grudge
for the black eye he had received in the melee, challenged his shipmate
to a "fair stand-up fight!"

The challenge was accepted; but as the main deck of the brig was still
"lumbered up," and the forecastle furnished a field altogether too
confined for such recreations, it was agreed that this "stand-up fight"
should take place while each of the combatants were sitting astride a
chest! Accordingly a large chest was roused up from below, and placed
athwart-ships on the forecastle, between the bowsprit bitts and the
cathead. The parties took their seats on the ends of the chest, facing
each other, and the business was to be settled by hard knocks.

The men faced each other boldly, some weighty compliments were
interchanged, when Bilton, to avoid a favor from his antagonist which
in all probability would have finished him, slipped off the end of the
chest, to the disgust of his shipmates and his own everlasting disgrace.

One of the crew, however, who was ingenious at expedients, and
determined to see fair play, by means of a hammer and a tenpenny nail
fastened both parties firmly to the chest by the seats of their canvas
trousers. There being no longer a possibility of BACKING OUT, the battle
was resumed, but did not last long; for Bilton soon received a blow on
his left temple, which, in spite of the tenpenny nail, knocked him off
the chest, and decided the contest.




Chapter V. DEMARARA

A circumstance occurred not long before our arrival at Demarara, which,
being somewhat remarkable in its character, furnished a fruitful theme
for conversation and comment. This was the arrival of a vessel from
Cadiz, with only one person on board.

It seems that a Captain Shackford, of Portsmouth, N.H., was the master
and owner of a sloop of some sixty or eighty tons. He proceeded to
Cadiz, and there took in a cargo for Guiana. When on the eve of sailing,
his crew, dissatisfied with some of his proceedings, left the vessel.

Captain Shackford, a resolute but eccentric man, resolved not to be
disappointed in his calculations, or delayed in his voyage by the
desertion of his crew, and boldly put to sea on the day appointed for
sailing, trusting in his own unaided efforts and energies to manage the
vessel on a passage across the ocean of thirty-five hundred miles. He
was seventy-four days on his passage; but brought his vessel into port
in tolerable order, having experienced no difficulty on his way, and
losing only one day of his reckoning.

The arrival of a vessel in Demarara, under such singular circumstances,
caused quite a sensation among the authorities, and gave rise to
suspicions by no means favorable to the character of the captain as an
honest man, and which his long, tangled locks and hirsute countenance
for he had not combed his hair or shaved his face during the passage
tended to confirm. It was thought by some that a mutiny might have
broken out among the crew of the sloop, which resulted in scenes of
violence and bloodshed, and that this wild-looking man was the only
survivor of a desperate struggle between the officers and crew. Indeed,
he looked not unlike a mutineer and murderer.

Captain Shackford was indignant at these suspicions, and would hardly
deign to give explanations. It was fortunate for him that some vessels
belonging to Portsmouth were in the harbor, the captains of which
recognized him as an old acquaintance, and vouched for his character
as an honest, well-meaning man, although at times indulging in strange
freaks, more akin to madness than method. He was released from arrest,
and subsequently disposed of his merchandise at remunerating prices, and
with a cargo of assorted articles, and a crew, sailed for a port in the
United States.

After the cargo of the Dolphin was discharged, preparations were made
for receiving a return cargo, to consist principally of molasses.
The process of taking in and stowing a cargo of this description is a
peculiar one; and as I shall recur to this subject hereafter, I avail
myself of this opportunity to describe, briefly, the mode of operation.

The empty casks are carefully stowed in the hold, with small pieces of
board between the quarter-hoops of each cask, so that the bilge of a
cask shall touch no other substance whatever. The bungholes must also
be uppermost; thus, in the brief but expressive language of commerce,
"every cask must be bung up and bilge free." A "molasses hose" is then
procured, consisting of a half barrel with a hole in the bottom, to
which is attached a leathern hose an inch and a half in diameter, and
long enough to reach to the most distant part of the hold. A hogshead
filled with molasses is then hoisted over the hatchway, hung down, and
the hose-tub is placed directly beneath; the bung is taken out, and the
molasses passes through the hose to any cask in the hold that may be
wished. When the cask is filled the hose is shifted to another, and in
this way the casks are all filled and the cargo stowed. The process
is tedious; and although a sweet, by no means a pleasant one, to those
engaged in it.

It may be imagined that the crew, after working all day among molasses
in that hot climate, should wish to bathe in the evening; and the
river alongside, although the element was neither pure nor transparent,
offered, at high or low water, a tempting opportunity. To the very
natural and proper inquiry whether the harbor of Demarara was infested
with sharks a man-eating shark not being the most desirable "companion
of the bath"  we were told that a shark had never been seen in the harbor;
that the river water, being turbid and fresher than the ocean water,
was offensive to that much dreaded animal, which delights in the clear
waters of the salt sea. We were further told that up the river, in the
creeks and pools which abound in that region, alligators were met with
in large numbers; some of them of large size, and had been known to
attack a man in the water; but they never ventured down the river among
the shipping.

The reports being thus favorable, the crew of the Dolphin, being good
swimmers, were indeed, whenever it was "slack water" of an evening,
to take a swim in the river; and the crews of other American vessels
followed the example. One evening, at twilight, there were swimming
about and sporting in the water, deriving the highest enjoyment from
this healthy and refreshing exercise, some fifteen or twenty American
sailors. On the following day an incident occurred, which operated as an
impressive warning against bathing in the waters of the Demarara.

On the afternoon of that day, a sailor at work on the mizzen-topsail
yard of an English ship moored within the distance of a cable's length
from the Dolphin, accidentally fell from the yard. As he fell he caught
hold of the main brace, and was suspended for a minute over the water.
There was quite a commotion on the deck of the ship, which attracted
the attention of the crews of neighboring vessels. On hearing the
distressing cry of the man, and witnessing the tumult on board the
ship, the crew of the Dolphin ran to the side of the brig and gazed with
interest on the scene.

The poor fellow was unable to retain his hold of the rope until he could
receive assistance. He fell into the water alongside, but rose to the
surface almost immediately, and being, apparently, a good swimmer,
struck out vigorously towards the ship. Some of his shipmates jumped
into the boat to pick him up, as, notwithstanding his exertions, he
was swept away by the tide; but none of the lookers-on apprehended any
danger.

While we were intently watching the result, the unfortunate man gave
a shrill and piercing shriek; and we then saw by the commotion in the
water, and the appearance of a large fin above the surface, that a shark
had seized the unlucky sailor, which caused him to give utterance to
that dreadful cry. He immediately sank with his prey, and the muddy
state of the water prevented the ruthless monster or his victim from
being seen.

We were still gazing on the spot where this fearful tragedy was enacted,
transfixed and mute with horror, when the shark again rose to the
surface, bearing in his jaws the lifeless body of the English sailor;
and for a brief period we beheld the voracious fish devouring his human
food.

The cargo of the Dolphin being completed, there ensued the usual bustle
and confusion in making preparations for sea. Owing to the lateness of
the season, Captain Tilton was unwilling to encounter the storms of
the New England coast in a vessel hardly seaworthy, and expressed an
intention to proceed to Charleston, in South Carolina.

About a week before we left Demarara a small English brig-of-war arrived
in the harbor, causing much consternation among the sailors, and not
without reason. The brig was deficient in her complement of men, and
this deficiency was supplied by impressment from crews of British
vessels in port. The commander was a young man, who in common with most
of the British naval officers of that day, had an exalted opinion of his
dignity and importance, and held the Yankees in contempt.

The pennant at the main is a distinguishing mark of a man-of-war, and
it was considered disrespectful on the part of the master of a merchant
vessel to wear a pennant in the presence of a cruiser. But on the Sunday
following the arrival of the gun brig the captain of a fine-looking
American brig, who did not entertain that respect for John Bull which
the representatives of that dignitary were disposed to exact, hoisted
his colors, as usual, on the Sabbath. He did not confine his display of
bunting to the ensign at the peak, a burgee studded with stars at
the fore, and a jack on the bowsprit, but ran up a pennant of most
preposterous length at the main, which proudly flaunted in the breeze,
as if bidding defiance to the Englishman.

The young naval commander foolishly allowed himself to be annoyed by
this proceeding on the part of the Yankee, and resolved to administer an
appropriate rebuke. He sent an officer alongside the American brig, who,
in a peremptory tone, told the mate to cause that Yankee pennant to be
hauled down immediately.

The captain, hearing of the mandate, made his appearance on deck; and
on a repetition of the order from the officer, exhibited unequivocal
symptoms of a choleric temper. After letting off a little of his
exuberant wrath, he declared with emphasis that he had a RIGHT to wear
a pennant, and WOULD wear it in spite of all the officers in the British
navy.

The midshipman, finding it of no avail to continue the parley, told
his cockswain to go aloft and "dowse the pennant and leave it in the
cross-trees." This was done, regardless of the protest of the captain,
and his threats to lay the subject before the government and make it a
national matter. The boat had hardly reached the man-of-war, when the
pennant was again flying on board the American brig, and seemed to wave
more proudly than before.

The man-of-war's boat was sent back, and some sharp words were exchanged
between the British officer and the Yankee captain; but the former,
possessing superior physical force, was triumphant. The pennant was
again hauled down, but this time it was not left in the cross-trees. The
cockswain took it with him and it was carried on board the English brig,
in spite of the denunciation hurled against men-of-war's men, in which
the epithets "thieves," "robbers," and "pirates," were distinctly heard.

A few nights after the above-mentioned occurrence we received an
unexpected addition to the number of our crew. It was about an hour
after midnight, when the man who had the watch on deck was comfortably
seated on a coil of rope beneath the main deck awning, and probably
dozing, while sheltered from a heavy and protracted shower of rain. The
night was dark and gloomy; the ebb tide made a moaning, monotonous noise
under the bows, and rushed swiftly by the sides of the vessel, leaving
a broad wake astern. The sailor was roused from his comfortable position
by a sound resembling the cry of a person in distress. He started to his
feet, and stepped out from beneath the awning. He listened, and again
distinctly heard the cry, which seemed to come from the water under
the bows. Supposing it might proceed from some person who had fallen
overboard and wanted help, he went forward to the knight-heads, and
called out, "Who's there?"

A voice from below the bowsprit faintly replied, "Shipmate, for God's
sake bear a hand, and give me help. I can hold on but a few minutes
longer."

He was now aware that a man, in an exhausted condition, was clinging
to the cable, and required immediate assistance. He called up his
shipmates, and with little difficulty they succeeded in hauling him
safely on board. He proved to be a fine-looking English sailor; and as
soon as he recovered strength enough to converse, explained the cause of
his perilous situation.

He belonged to the brig-of-war, which was lying at anchor about half a
mile above. He had been impressed two years before; and being treated
with cruelty and harshness, had been eagerly watching an opportunity to
escape from his inhuman bondage. At length he formed a plan with one
of his messmates, to slip overboard quietly the first dark night, and
relying on skill in swimming, attempt to reach some vessel at anchor in
the harbor.

The plan was carried into effect. They succeeded in eluding the
vigilance of the sentries, dropped gently into the water, and were
soon floating astern. But their situation was one of extreme peril.
The current was stronger than they anticipated, and the darkness of the
night prevented them from distinguishing any vessel in time to get on
board. As soon as they were swept out of hearing of the man-of-war, they
shouted loudly for help; but the murmuring of the tide, the pattering of
the rain, and the howling of the wind prevented their voices from
being heard, as, notwithstanding their exertions to stem the tide, they
floated rapidly down the river towards the bar.

What risks will a man encounter to secure his liberty! It was not long
before these friends separated, never to meet again. One of them sank
beneath the waters. The other had given up all expectation of being
rescued, when he beheld an object, darker than the murky atmosphere
by which it was surrounded, rising, as it appeared to him, out of the
water. His heart beat quicker within his bosom. In a moment more he
had seized the cable of the Dolphin, and shouted for help. This man was
grateful for the succor he had received, and expressed a wish to work
his passage to the United States. To this suggestion Captain Tilton
offered no objection, and he subsequently proved to be one of the best
men on board.

That very morning the black pilot made his appearance, grinning as he
thrust his dark muzzle over the gunwale. He was greeted with answering
smiles, for we were "homeward bound," and all hands cheerfully commenced
heaving up the anchor and making sail. With a favorable breeze and an
ebb tide we soon passed the bar, and entered upon the broad ocean. The
fresh trade wind was welcome after sweltering for weeks in the sultry
and unwholesome atmosphere of Demarara; and the clear and pellucid
waters of the ocean bore a cheerful aspect, contrasted with the thick
and opaque waters of the river in which we had remained several weeks at
anchor.

Nothing remarkable occurred during the homeward passage, until we
reached the Gulf Stream, that extraordinary current, sixty or seventy
miles in width, and many degrees warmer than the ocean water on either
side, and which reaches from the Gulf of Florida to the Shoals of
Nantucket. There can be no doubt that this current of the Gulf Stream
is owing to the trade winds in the tropical seas, which, blowing at
all times from the eastward, drive a large body of water towards the
American continent. Vessels bound to India invariably meet with a strong
westerly current within the tropics, and particularly in the vicinity
of the equator. This volume of water is thus forced along the shores of
Brazil and Guiana, until it enters the Caribbean Sea, from which it
has no outlet excepting through the strait bounded by Cape Catouche in
Yucatan, on one side, and Cape St. Antonio, in Cuba, on the other.

Through this strait, after a strong trade wind has been blowing for a
time, the current sets into the Gulf of Mexico at the rate of two or
three knots an hour. Here the waters of the tropical seas are mingled
with the waters of the Mississippi, the Balize, the Rio Grande, the
Colorado, the Alabama, and other large streams which empty into the Gulf
of Mexico; and turning off to the eastward, this body of water is driven
along between the coasts of Cuba and Florida until it strikes the Salt
Key Bank and the Bahamas, when it receives another considerable addition
from the currents, which, from the same causes, are continually setting
west through the Old Bahama and New Providence Channels. It is then
forced northward along the coast of Florida and the Middle States. The
stream becomes wider as it extends north, diminishes its velocity, and
gradually changes its temperature, until it strikes the shoals south
of Nantucket and the Bank of St. George, when it branches off to the
eastward, washes the southern edge of the Bank of Newfoundland, and
a portion of it is lost in the ocean between the Western and Canary
Islands; and another portion, sweeping to the southward past the Cape
de Verdes, is again impelled to the westward across the Atlantic, and
performs its regular round.

The current always moving in the same circuitous track, forms, according
to Mr. Maury, to whose scientific labors the commercial world is deeply
indebted, an IMMENSE WHIRLPOOL, whose circuit embraces the whole North
Atlantic Ocean. In the centre of the whirl is a quiet spot, equal in
extent of area to the whole Mississippi valley, unaffected by currents
of any kind. And here, as a matter of course, the greater part of the
gulf-weed and other floating materials, which are carried round by the
current, is eventually deposited. This is the "Sargasso Sea" of the
ancients. Columbus crossed this "weedy sea" on his quest after a western
passage to India. And the singular appearance of the ocean, thickly
matted over with gulf-weed, caused great alarm among his companions, who
thought they had reached the limits of navigation.

A current of a character similar to the Gulf Stream only not so strong
is experienced along the east coast of Africa, from Mozambique to the
Lagullas Bank, off the Cape of Good Hope. This current is undoubtedly
caused by the trade wind forcing the water towards the coast of Africa.
But in this case it is not driven into a narrow passage, like the Gulf
of Florida, which would greatly increase its velocity. The temperature
of the water in the current off the Cape of Good Hope is also several
degrees higher than the ocean waters in the neighborhood of the current.

On the afternoon on which we entered the Gulf Stream the wind hauled
suddenly to the eastward, and the heavens were obscured by clouds. The
breeze also increased, and the sea became rough, causing the brig to
assume various unseemly attitudes, and perform gymnastic exercises
wonderful to behold. As the wind increased and the sea became more
turbulent, the Dolphin tumbled about like an elephant dancing a
hornpipe, insomuch that it was difficult for a person to keep his
perpendicular. Indeed, as I was passing along from the camboose to the
cabin, with a plate of toast in one hand and a teapot in the other, the
brig took a lee lurch without giving notice of her intention, and sent
me with tremendous force across the deck, to leeward, where I brought up
against the sail. But the tea and toast were ejected from my hands into
the sea, and I never saw them more.

At twilight, Captain Tilton came on deck, and looking around the
horizon, said, addressing the mate, "Mr. Thompson, the weather
looks GREASY to windward; I fear a gale is brewing. You may find the
top-gallant sail and jib, and take a reef in the mainsail."

This work was soon accomplished. The captain's prediction was verified;
for the wind continued to increase, accompanied with fine drizzling
rain, until about nine o'clock, when orders were given to take another
reef in the mainsail, and double reef the fore-topsail. It was not long
before the wind swept across the waves with almost resistless force,
when it was found necessary to strip the brig of all canvas, excepting a
storm main-staysail and close-reefed fore-topsail; the yards were braced
up, the helm lashed a-lee, and the brig was laid to.

The gale continued unabated all night. Our vessel rolled heavily to
leeward, and strained considerably, her bulkheads groaning and her
seams opening, making it necessary to keep one of the pumps in constant
operation. As soon as it was daylight I went on deck, anxious to witness
a spectacle I had often heard described  A GALE OF WIND AT SEA   and it
 wonder and admiration. The wind, blowing furiously, whistled
wildly among the rigging; the waves of alarming size and threatening
appearance, came rushing in swift succession towards us, as if eager to
overwhelm our puny bark, which nevertheless floated unharmed, now riding
on the crest of a wave, and anon plunging into a deep and angry-looking
gulf, taking no water on deck, excepting from an occasional spray.

I asked one of the sailors who had just taken a spell at the pump, if
this were not a hurricane.

"Hurricane!" said he, with a good-natured grin. "Nonsense! This is only
a stiff breeze. 'Tis as different from a hurricane as a heaver is from
a handspike. When you see a hurricane, my lad, you will know it, even if
the name is not lettered on the starn."

"Then I suppose there is no actual danger in a gale like this, although
it does not look very inviting."

"Danger! I don't know about that. In a good seaworthy vessel a man is as
SAFE in a gale of wind as if he was cooped up in a grog-selling boarding
house on shore; and a thousand times better off in other respects. But
this miserable old craft is strained in every timber, and takes in more
water through the seams in her bottom than 'the combers' toss on her
decks. If her bottom does not drop out some of these odd times, and
leave us in the lurch, we may think ourselves lucky."

After uttering these consolatory remarks, accompanied with a significant
shrug, he resumed his labors at the pump.

The wind blew with violence through the day, and the leak kept
increasing. There is probably no exercise more fatiguing than "pumping
ship," as practised with the clumsy, awkward contrivances called PUMPS,
which were generally in use among the merchant vessels of those days. It
being necessary to keep the pumps in constant operation, or in nautical
parlance, "pump or sink," the crew, although a hardy, vigorous set of
men, became exhausted and disheartened, and, to my astonishment and
disgust, instead of manifesting by their solemn looks and devout
demeanor a sense of the danger with which they were threatened,
alternately pumped, grumbled, and swore, and swore, grumbled, and
pumped.

Change is incident to every thing; and even a gale of wind cannot last
forever. Before night the tempest was hushed, the waves diminished,
and in a few hours the brig was under full sail, jogging along to
the westward at the rate of six or seven knots. The next day we got
soundings on the coast of Carolina, and, with a fair wind, rapidly
approached the land.

Off the mouth of the bay which forms the harbor of Charleston extends
a long line of shoals, on which the breakers are continually dashing.
These shoals are intersected by narrow channels, through which vessels
of moderate draught may pass at high water with a smooth sea. The
principal channel, or main passage, for ships over the bar is narrow,
and never attempted without a pilot. About three miles from the bar is
the lighthouse, which stands on a low, sandy shore. Indeed, the whole
coast is low and sandy, abounding in mosquitoes, sandflies, and oysters.
Inside the bar there is good anchorage, but the tide at certain periods
ebbs and flows with great velocity.

We crossed the bar, and, without anchoring, proceeded to the city. We
passed Sullivan's Island on the right a long, low, sandy island, which
is the summer residence of many of the inhabitants of Charleston. On
this island Fort Moultrie is situated, which commands the passage to the
city, about four miles distant. This fort proved an awkward obstacle to
the capture of Charleston, when that feat was rashly attempted by Sir
Peter Parker, during the revolutionary war.

On all the surrounding objects I gazed with a deep and intense interest,
which was not relaxed until the Dolphin dropped anchor off the wharves
of this celebrated city.




Chapter VI. SCENES IN CHARLESTON

Soon after the Dolphin arrived in Charleston the crew were discharged,
with the exception of one of the seamen and myself. We retained our
quarters in the brig. Mr. Thompson, the mate, took passage in a vessel
for Boston, and not long afterwards sailed from Portsmouth in command of
a ship. Captain Tilton took up his residence at a fashionable boarding
house, and I seldom had any communication with him. I supposed, as a
matter of course, that he would soon enter on another voyage, and I
should go with him. In the meantime, having provided me with a temporary
home, he left me to associate with whom I pleased, and struggle
single-handed against the many temptations to which a young sailor in a
strange maritime city is always exposed.

About a week after our arrival in Charleston, as I was passing through
one of the principal streets, clad in strict sailor costume, I met a
good-looking gentleman, who, to my surprise, accosted me with great
politeness, his pleasant features lighted up with a benevolent smile,
and inquired if I had not recently returned from a voyage to sea. Upon
being assured that such was the case, he remarked that he liked my
appearance, and doubted not I was a smart, capable lad, who would be
a valuable acquisition to the crew of a good ship. I was flattered and
pleased with the conduct of this genteel looking stranger, convinced
that he was a person of good judgment and nice discrimination. He
further informed me, with a patronizing air, that he was the captain of
a fine fast-sailing vessel, bound on a pleasant voyage, and should be
delighted to number among his crew some active and intelligent young
men, like myself. He even went so far as to say he was so well satisfied
with my appearance, that if I would accompany him to a counting-room on
an adjoining wharf, he would ship me without asking further questions,
and advance a month's wages on the spot. But the amount he offered as
monthly wages was so much greater than I, being but little better than
a very green hand, had a right to expect, that a person acquainted with
human nature would have suspected this pleasant-spoken gentleman to have
some other reason for his conduct than admiration of my appearance and
interest in my welfare. I was eager to place myself at once under the
protection of my new friend; yet I could not forget that I was still
under the care of my kinsman, Captain Tilton, and that it would
be neither decorous nor proper to make this new engagement without
consulting him. But I did not for a moment doubt he would give his
consent to the proposed arrangement, and he rejoiced to get me fairly
off his hands.

I communicated my objections to the stranger, but assured him that I
would meet him in the afternoon at the place he designated, and in all
probability sign "the articles." He seemed, nevertheless, disappointed
at the result of the interview, and bidding me not fail to come, turned
away, and walked slowly towards the wharf.

As I left this kind-hearted stranger, brim full of newborn confidence
and hope, and exulting in the fact that I had fallen in with a man of
influence and position, who could appreciate my merit, I met a couple
of sailors of my acquaintance, who had been standing at a corner of the
street witnessing our interview, with which they seemed greatly amused.
One of the sailors, with a deficiency of respect for my would-be patron
which I could not approve, said, "Hawser, what were you talking with
that fellow about?"

I explained, with great glee and at full length, the nature of our
conversation to which they greedily listened, winking mysteriously at
each other. When I had concluded, they indulged in a hearty laugh.

It was some time before they could sufficiently restrain their merriment
to enlighten me on the cause of their mirth. I was then told, to my
mortification, that my kind friend, the GENTLEMAN on whose benevolence
and protection I had already built hopes of success in life, was neither
more nor less than the captain of an armed clipper brig, a SLAVER,
anchored in the outer roads, which had been for a fortnight ready for
sea, but was detained in consequence of the desertion of three several
crews, who had been induced by false representations to ship, and had
deserted EN MASSE as soon as they learned the true character of the
vessel and the voyage. He was now using all possible means to entrap
a crew of men or boys for this abominable traffic, and was by no means
particular in his choice.

This was a severe blow to my vanity. I felt not a little indignant
at being so easily cajoled, played upon, and almost kidnapped by
this unprincipled scoundrel. It was a valuable lesson, however; for
experience is a good, although expensive teacher.

A few days passed away, when, one morning about three o'clock, as some
members of the city patrol were passing through Church Street, they
discovered a man, apparently n a dying state, lying in the street. He
was conveyed to the guard house, or patrol station, where he died in
the course of half an hour, without being able to articulate a syllable.
Several wounds in different parts of his body, made by a small penknife,
which was subsequently found, were undoubtedly the cause of his death.
The unfortunate man thus murdered was the captain of the slaver, who
had sought to entrap me by his honeyed words. A pool of blood was on the
spot on which he was first discovered, and his steps could be traced
by the blood on the pavements for several rods. The marks of blood were
found only in the middle of the street; and none of the persons residing
in that part of the city heard any disturbance, brawl, or cries for
assistance in the course of the night.

The mysterious tragedy caused a great excitement. The police were
unceasing in their efforts to discover the circumstances connected with
this assassination, but in vain. The veil which concealed it was not
lifted, and no clew was ever given by which even conjecture could
develop the mystery.

It was supposed by some that the unfortunate man fell a victim to the
rage of a jealous husband whose honor he had outraged, or of a lover
whose affections he had supplanted. Others thought the fatal injuries
he received were the result of a drunken quarrel, commenced in a gaming
house; while many believed that private revenge inflicted the stabs,
which, from their number and direction, appeared to have been given
under the influence of ungovernable fury. Some thought the wounds were
inflicted by a vigorous man, others, that a woman had imbrued her hands
in his blood.

The first, and perhaps most natural supposition, was that some
negro, knowing the character of the voyage which the murdered man
had contemplated, had taken this desperate mode of arresting his
proceedings. This theory, however, was soon generally abandoned for
another. It was suggested that one of the sailors who had shipped in the
slaver and subsequently deserted, knowing the captain was seeking them
in every direction, had met him in the street, and fearful of being
arrested, or seeking to revenge a personal wrong, had committed the
terrible crime. This hypothesis was, doubtless, as false as either of
the others, and more absurd. It was, nevertheless, adopted by the city
authorities, and promptly acted upon, with a disregard to the rights
of individuals which seems strangely at variance with republican
institutions. The police force was strengthened, and on the evening
succeeding the discovery of the murder received orders to arrest and
place in confinement every individual seen in the streets wearing the
garb of a sailor. This arbitrary edict was strictly enforced; and Jack,
on leaving his home in the forecastle or a boarding house to visit
the haunts of dissipation, or perhaps to attend to some pressing and
important duty, was pounced upon by the members of the city guard,
and, much to his astonishment and anger, and maugre his struggles,
expostulations, and threats, was carried off without any assigned
reason, and securely placed under lock and key.

Some two or three hundred of these unoffending tars were caught,
captured, cribbed, and confined. No respect was paid to age, color or
nation. They were huddled together in rooms of very moderate dimensions,
which precluded, for one night at least, any idea of rest or comfort;
and such a confusion of tongues, such anathemas against the city
officials, such threats of vengeance, such rare specimens of swearing,
singing, and shouting, varied occasionally by rough greetings and jeers
whenever a new squad of blue jackets was thrust in among them,
would have commanded the admiration of the evil dwellers in Milton's
Pandemonium.

This arbitrary measure failed of success. The kidnapped sailors, on the
following day, were separately examined in the presence of the mate of
the brig, but no reasons were found for detaining a single individual.

A few days after this occurrence, Captain Tilton told me he had sold
the brig Dolphin to a Captain Turner, of New York, a worthy man and his
particular friend; that Captain Turner intended proceeding immediately
to some neutral port in the West Indies. The non-intercourse act, at
that time, prohibited all trade to places belonging to either of the
great belligerent powers. He also said he had made no arrangements in
regard to himself; that he was undecided what course to pursue, and
might remain on shore for months. Anxious, however, to promote my
interest by procuring me active employment, he had stipulated with
Captain Turner that I should have "a chance" in the Dolphin, on her
next voyage, before the mast. I had not a word to say against this
arrangement, but gave my cheerful consent, especially as it was
represented that Captain Turner would "treat me with kindness, and help
me along in the world."

I was thus unceremoniously dismissed by Captain Tilton from his charge.
Under the plea of promoting my interest, he had procured me a situation
before the mast in an old, leaky vessel, which he had got rid of because
she was not seaworthy, and commanded by a man of whose character he was
entirely ignorant. I expressed gratitude to my kinsman for his
goodness, notwithstanding I had secret misgivings in regard to his
disinterestedness, and signed with alacrity "the articles" with Captain
Turner. A new and interesting scene in the drama of life was about to
open, and I looked forward with impatience to the rising of the curtain.

The brig was laden with a cargo of lumber, rice, and provisions, and her
destination was Cayenne, on the coast of Guiana. In January, 1810, we
left the wharf in Charleston, and proceeded down the harbor. The wind
was light, but the tide ebbed with unusual velocity, sweeping us rapidly
on our way. We had nearly reached the bar when it suddenly became calm.
The brig lost steerage way, and the current was setting towards the
shoals. The pilot, aware of the danger, called out, "Let go the anchor!"

The order was promptly obeyed, and the small bower anchor was let go.
The tide was so strong that when a sufficient quantity of cable was
run out, the attempt to "check her," and to "bring up," resulted in
capsizing the windlass, and causing, for a few minutes, a sense of
indescribable confusion. The windlass, by its violent and spasmodic
motion, knocked over two of the sailors who foolishly endeavored to
regain control of its actions, and the cable, having commenced running
out of the hawse-hold, would not be "snubbed," but obstinately persisted
in continuing its course in spite of the desperate exertions of the
captain, mate, pilot, and a portion of the crew, who clung to it as if
it was their last hope. But their efforts were vain. Its impetuosity
could not in this way be checked; and as the end of the cable by some
strange neglect, had not been clinched around the mast, the last coil
followed the example of "its illustrious predecessors," and disappeared
through the hawse-hole, after having, by an unexpected whisk, upset the
mate, and given the captain a rap across the shins, which lamed him for
a week.

The "best bower" anchor was now let go, and the end hastily secured
around the foremast, which fortunately "brought up" the brig "all
standing," within half a cable's length of the shoal. No buoy having
been attached to the small bower anchor, the anchor and cable were lost
forever.

This accident, of course, prevented us from proceeding immediately to
sea; and the wind having changed, the anchor was weighed at the flood
tide, and the brig removed to a safer anchorage. Night came on, and as
the brig was riding in a roadstead, at single anchor, in a tempestuous
season, it was necessary to set an anchor watch. It fell to my lot
to have the first watch; that is, to keep a look out after the wind,
weather, and condition of the vessel, and report any occurrence of
importance between the hours of eight and ten in the evening. The crew,
fatigued with the labors of the day, took possession of their berths at
an early hour, the mate and the captain also disappeared from the
deck, after having instructed me in my duties, and cautioned me against
falling asleep in my watch.

I was thus intrusted with a responsible charge, and realized the
importance of the trust. I walked fore-and-aft the deck, with a step and
a swagger that would have become a Port Admiral in the British navy.
I felt that I had gained one important step; and, bound on a pleasant
voyage, with kind and indulgent officers, had every thing pleasant to
expect in the future. As Captain Turner would undoubtedly treat me with
indulgence and overlook any shortcomings on my part, for the sake of his
intimate friend, Captain Tilton, I determined, by my attention to duty,
and my general conduct, to deserve the favors which I was sure I should
receive.

Communing thus with myself, and lost in the rosy vagaries of a vivid
imagination, I unhappily for the moment forgot the objects for which I
was stationed on deck. I seated myself involuntarily on a spar, which
was lashed alongside the long boat, and in a few minutes, without
any intention or expectation of being otherwise than vigilant in the
extreme, WAS TRANSPORTED TO THE LAND OF DREAMS!

A check was suddenly put to my vagabond thoughts and flowery visions,
and I was violently dragged back to the realities of life by a strong
hand, which, seizing me roughly by the collar, jerked me to my feet!
At the same time, the voice of my kind friend and benefactor, Captain
Turner, rung in my ears like a trumpet, as he exclaimed in a paroxysm of
passion, "You little good-for-nothing rascal! This is the way you keep
watch! Hey? Wake up, you lazy ragamuffin! Rouse yourself!" And, suiting
the action to the word, he gave me two or three severe shakes. "Let
me catch you sleeping in your watch again, and I'll send you to the
cross-trees for four hours on a stretch. I knew I had got a hard bargain
when your uncle shoved you upon me, you sneaking, sanctimonious-looking
imp of Satan! But mind how you carry your helm, or you will have cause
to curse the day when you shipped on board the Dolphin!"

This was a damper, with a vengeance, to my aspirations and hopes.
The ladder on which I was about to ascend to fame and fortune was
unfeelingly knocked away, and I was laid prostrate flat on my back
almost before I began to mount! I was deceived in Captain Turner; and
what was of greater consequence to me, my self-confidence was terribly
shaken I was deceived in myself. My shipmates, nevertheless, sympathized
with me in my abasement; gave me words of encouragement; bade me be of
good cheer; keep a stiff upper lip; look out sharper for squalls in the
future, and I should yet "weather the cape."

An awkward accident happened to me the following day, which tended still
further to diminish the self-confidence I had so recently cherished. The
small boat had returned about sunset from a mission to the city, and as
I formed one of the boat's crew, the mate ordered me to drop the boat
astern, and hook on the tackles that it might be hoisted to the davits.
But the tide running furiously, the boat when under the quarter took a
sudden sheer. I lost my hold on the brig, and found myself adrift.

I shouted lustily for help, but no help could be afforded; the long-boat
being snugly stowed amidships, and the tide sweeping me towards the bar
at the rate of several knots an hour. Sculling was a manoeuvre of which
I had heard, and seen practised, but had never practised myself. I
therefore took one of the oars and made a desperate attempt to PADDLE
towards the brig. The attempt was unsuccessful; the distance between
the brig and the boat was rapidly increasing, darkness was coming on,
a strong breeze was springing up, and I was in a fair way to be drifted
among the breakers, or swept out to sea over the bar!

It happened, fortunately, for me, that a large brig was riding at anchor
within a short distance of the Dolphin. This was the very slaver whose
captain was so mysteriously assassinated. The mate of the brig was
looking around the harbor at the time; he espied my misfortune, and
forthwith despatched a boat, pulled by four men, to my assistance. They
took me in tow, and, after an hour of hard work, succeeded in towing the
boat and myself safely alongside the brig.

I was soundly rated by the mate for my carelessness in allowing the boat
to get adrift, and my shipmates were unsparing in their reproaches
for my ignorance of the important art of sculling. I was completely
crest-fallen; but during the few remaining days we remained in port I
applied myself with zeal to gain a practical knowledge of the art, and
could soon propel a boat through the water with a single oar over the
stern, with as much dexterity as the most accomplished sailor.

A new cable an anchor were brought on board, the wind became favorable,
and the rig Dolphin proceeded to sea, bound NOMINALLY for Cayenne. I
carried with me, engraven on my memory in characters which have never
been effaced, THE ART OR SCULLING A BOAT, and the admonition "NEVER FALL
ASLEEP IN YOUR WATCH!"




Chapter VII. DELIBERATE ROGUERY

After we reached the blue water, and the wind began to blow and the sea
to rise, the old brig, with corresponding motion, tossed and wallowed
about as if for a wager. Although while in port her bottom had been
calked and graved, the leak, which gave so much trouble the previous
voyage, had not been stopped. In a fresh breeze and a head sea the seams
would open, and a good "spell at the pump," every twenty minutes at
least, was required to keep her free.

The captain grumbled and swore like a pirate; but this had no
perceptible effect in stopping the leak. On the contrary, the more he
raved, denouncing the brig as a humbug, and the man who sold her to
him as a knave and a swindler, the more the brig leaked. And what was
remarkable, after the first ten days, the brig leaked as much in a light
breeze and a smooth sea as in rough weather. It was necessary to keep
one pump in action the whole time. But when the men, wearied by their
unremitting exertions, talked of abandoning the vessel to her fate,
and taking refuge in the first vessel they might fall in with, the
leak seemed suddenly to diminish, until the bottom of the old craft was
comparatively tight!

All this was inexplicable to me, and the mystery caused much
philosophical discussion and sage remark among the ship's company. As
we were in a part of the ocean which abounded in flying fish, it was
the general opinion that the stoppage of the leak was caused by the
involuntary action of a flying fish! The theory was, that an unfortunate
fish, swimming beneath the bottom of the vessel, in the neighborhood of
the crevice through which the water rushed, unsuspicious of danger, was
suddenly "sucked in," and plugged up the hole until it was drawn through
or removed by decomposition!

One day the cook, a negro not remarkable for quickness of apprehension
or general intelligence, received such an unmerciful beating from the
captain that he was unable to attend to his manifold duties, and a
portion of them fell to my share. Among them was the task of drawing off
the regular allowance of rum, half a pint to each man, and serving it
out to the crew. The rum was in the after part of the vessel, beneath
the cabin, a place designated as "the run." It was approached by a
scuttle in the cabin floor, and of course could not be explored by any
of the crew without the especial permission of the captain or mate.
I entered the dark hole, aided by the glimmering light of a lantern,
groped my way to the barrel which contained the liquid so highly prized
by the sons of Neptune as the liquor of life, the pure AQUA VITAE, and
filled my can with the precious fluid.

When I inserted the spigot I still heard a gurgling sound, as of
the rush of water through a narrow passage. I listened, and examined
further, and became convinced I had discovered the leak. I hastily
emerged from "the run," and passed up on deck. The captain was taking
a meridian observation of the sun, when, with a radiant countenance
and glistening eye, my whole frame trembling with joy and anticipated
triumph, I communicated the important information that I had discovered
the leak; it was in the run, could be easily reached, and with a little
ingenuity and labor stopped.

Instead of rewarding me for my intelligence and zeal with a smile of
approbation and a word of encouragement, the captain gave me a look
which petrified me for a time, and would have killed me on the spot if
looks could kill in those degenerate days. Seizing me roughly by the
shoulder, he addressed me in a hissing, hoarse voice, yet so low that
his words, although terribly intelligible to me, could be distinctly
heard by no other person: "Mind your own business, my lad, and let the
leaks take care of themselves! Go about your work; and if you whisper a
syllable of what you have told me to any other person, I WILL THROW
YOU OVERBOARD, you officious, intermeddling little vagabond!" And he
indorsed his fearful threat by an oath too impious to be transcribed.

This unexpected rebuke, coupled with the fact that I had seen in "the
run" the large screw auger which had been missing from the tool-chest
for more than a week, furnished a key to unlock the mysteries connected
with the leak. The captain, for some purpose which he did not choose to
reveal, with the connivance and aid of the mate, had bored holes through
the bottom of the brig, and could let in the water at his pleasure!

A few days after this interesting incident which threw a new light
on the character of the man to whose charge I had been intrusted, we
reached the latitude of Martinico. As the brig now leaked more than
ever, and the men, one and all, were worn out with continued pumping,
the captain proclaimed to the crew that in consequence of the leaky
condition of the brig, he did not consider it safe to proceed further on
the voyage to Cayenne, and had determined to make the first port.

This determination met the approbation of all hands, without a
dissenting voice. The yards were squared, the helm was put up, the
course was given "due west," and with a cracking trade wind, away we
bowled off before it for the Island of Martinico.

Captain Turner, although not remarkable for the strictness of his
principles, was a shrewd and intelligent man. On shore he had the
semblance of a gentleman. On shipboard he was a good sailor and a
skilful navigator. If to his energy, talents, and intelligence had
been added a moderate share of honesty, he would probably have
been successful in his struggle for wealth, and might have attained
respectability. I have often had occasion to note that "a rogue in
grain" finds it more difficult to achieve success in life than an
honest man. Shakespeare, the great exponent of human nature, makes the
unscrupulous Cardinal Wolsey say, when crushed by the hand of royalty,
deserted by his friends, and a prey to disgrace and ignominy,

     "Had I but served my God with half the zeal
     I served my king, he would not in mine age
     Have left me naked to mine enemies."

On the morning after this change in our course, the high land of
Martinico was seen in the distance; and in the afternoon, before the sun
had reached the horizon, we were snugly anchored in the roadstead of
St. Pierre. This port, at the bottom of a wide bay, with good anchorage
close to the beach, is open to the sea. But being on the lee of
the island, it is protected from the trade winds, which, with rare
exceptions, blow throughout the year. From a westerly tempest there
is no protection, and a hurricane always carries destruction among the
shipping.

The reason why the brig was made to spring a leak was now evident.
Captain Turner never intended to go to Cayenne, but wished to be
justified in the eye of the law in proceeding to what he considered
a better market. The non-intercourse act being in operation, American
vessels were prohibited from entering an English or a French port,
EXCEPTING IN CASES OF DISTRESS. It was therefore determined that the
Dolphin should spring a leak, and SEEM in danger of foundering, in order
to furnish a pretext for entering the harbor of St. Pierre!

Captain Turner expected to find no American vessels in port, and of
course no American produce. He calculated to realize a high price for
his cargo, and was surprised and disappointed to ascertain that other
Yankees were as shrewd and unscrupulous as himself. The anchorage was
thickly sprinkled with American vessels, and the market was overstocked
with American produce. These vessels had been driven into St. Pierre by
"stress of weather" or "dangerous leaks," and their commanders cherished
as little respect for the revenue laws, or any other mandates of the
United States government, as Captain Turner. A protest, carefully
worded, and signed and sworn to by the mate and two seamen, and a
survey of the vessel made by persons JUDICIOUSLY selected, acted as a
protecting shield against any subsequent troublesome interference on the
part of the American authorities.

The wisdom of the "Long Embargo," and the "Non-intercourse Act" is
greatly doubted by the statesmen of the present day. Besides crippling
our own resources, and paralyzing the whole commercial interest of the
United States, a craven spirit was thus manifested on the part of our
rulers, which exposed us to insults and outrages from the belligerent
powers. And if the policy of these extraordinary measures can be
defended, it must be admitted that they were the direct cause of more
roguery than would compensate for an immense amount of good.

Having arrived at Martinico in distress, we were precluded from
proceeding to any other port in search of a better market. The cargo
was sold at prices that would hardly pay the expenses of the voyage. In
delivering the lumber, however, an opportunity offered in making up in
QUANTITY the deficiency in price, of which our honest captain, following
the example, I regret to say, of many of the West India captains OF
THOSE DAYS, eagerly availed himself.

The lumber was taken to the shore on large rafts, and hauled up on the
beach by men belonging to the brig. The mark on every separate board or
plank was called out in a clear voice by the man who dragged it from
the raft to the beach, and was noted down by the mate of the brig and a
clerk of the mercantile house that purchased the lumber. Those parties
were comfortably seated beneath the shade of a tamarind tree, at some
distance, smoking cigars and pleasantly conversing. They compared notes
from time to time, and there was no difference in their accounts. Every
thing on our part was apparently conducted on the strictest principles
of honesty. But each sailor having received a hint from the mate, who
had been posted by the captain, and a promise of other indulgences,
often added from fifteen to twenty per cent, to the mark which had been
actually scored by the surveyor on every board or plank. Thus, if a
board was MARKED twelve feet, the amount given was fifteen feet; a board
that measured only eighteen or twenty feet, would be represented as
twenty-five; and sometimes a large, portly-looking board, measuring
thirty or thirty-five feet, not only received an addition of eight or
ten feet, but was suddenly transformed into a PLANK, which was counted
as containing DOUBLE the measurement of a board of the same superficial
dimensions. Thus a board actually measuring only thirty feet was passed
off upon the unsophisticated clerk of the purchaser as a piece of lumber
measuring seventy feet. In this way Captain Turner managed, in what he
contended was the usual and proper manner among the Yankees, to make a
cargo of lumber "hold out!" Another attempt which this gentleman made
to realize a profit on merchandise greater than could be obtained by a
system of fair trading was not attended with so favorable a result.

A portion of the cargo of the Dolphin consisted of barrels of salted
provisions. This part of the cargo was not enumerated among the articles
in the manifest. Captain Turner intended to dispose of it to the
shipping in the harbor, and thus avoid the payment of the regular
duties. He accordingly sold some ten or a dozen barrels of beef
and pork, at a high price, to the captain of an English ship. The
transaction, by some unknown means, was discovered by the government
officials, who, in a very grave and imposing manner, visited the brig
with a formidable posse. They found in the hold a considerable quantity
of the salted provisions on which no duty had been paid; this they
conveyed on shore and confiscated to the use of His Majesty the King of
Great Britain. The brig also was seized, but was subsequently released
on payment of a heavy fine.

The merchant vessels lying in St. Pierre are generally moored head and
stern, one of the anchors being carried ashore, and embedded in the
ground on the beach. A few days after we were thus moored, a large
Spanish schooner from the Main hauled in and moored alongside, at the
distance of only a few fathoms. Besides the captain, there were several
well-dressed personages on board, who appeared to take an interest in
the cargo, and lived in the cabin. But harmony did not characterize
their intercourse with each other. At times violent altercations
occurred, which, being carried on in the Spanish language, were to us
neither edifying nor amusing.

One Sunday morning, after the Spanish schooner had been about a week in
port, and was nearly ready for sea, a fierce quarrel took place on the
quarter-deck of the vessel, which, being attended with loud language,
menacing looks, and frantic gesticulations, attracted the attention of
all who were within sight or hearing.

Two of the Spaniards, large, good-looking men, were apparently very
bitter in their denunciations of each other. They suddenly threw off
their coats, which they wrapped around the left arm, and each
grasping a long Spanish knife, the original of the murderous
"bowie-knife,"--attacked each other with a ferocity terrible to behold.
Every muscle seemed trembling and convulsed with passion, their
eyes flashed with desperation, and their muscles seemed endued with
superhuman power, as they pushed upon each other.

Many furious passes were made, and dexterously parried by the left arm,
which was used as a buckler in which to receive the thrusts. At length
one of the combatants received a wound in the chest, and his shirt bosom
was instantly stained with blood. This served only to rouse him to more
desperate exertions if possible; and, like two enraged tigers, these
men no longer thought of defending themselves, but were bent only on
assailing each other.

Such a combat could not last long. One of the Spaniards sank to the
deck, covered with wounds and exhausted with blood, while the victor,
who, from the gory condition of his linen, his pallid cheeks, and
staggering steps seemed in little better plight, was assisted into the
cabin by his companions.

Duels of a similar character, fought on the spot with knives, the
left arm protected with a garment used as a shield, were by no means
unfrequent among the Spaniards in the New World, and the barbarous
custom is not yet obsolete.

The vessel, on whose decks this horrible scene of butchery was enacted,
left the harbor on the following day, to the great gratification of her
neighbors; and a rusty, ill-looking schooner, called the John, hauled
from another part of the roadstead, and took the berth vacated by the
Spaniards. Like other American vessels that had been coquetting with the
revenue laws, neither the name of the schooner nor the place to which
she belonged was painted on her stern. A close intimacy, intended
doubtless for their mutual advantage, existed between Captain Turner
and the master of the John. The crews of the two vessels also became
acquainted, and when the day's work was ended, often assembled on board
one of the vessels, and indulged in singing, conversing, skylarking, or
spinning yarns.

Swimming was an agreeable and refreshing exercise, in which we often
indulged, notwithstanding the harbor of St. Pierre was an open bay in
a tropical climate; the very place which the shark would be likely to
frequent. It was said, however, that sharks were seldom seen in the
bay, and NEVER among the shipping. This statement was regarded as
a sufficient assurance of safety; and although I retained a vivid
recollection of the dreadful tragedy I had seen enacted a few months
before in Demarara, with all the recklessness or a young sailor I
hesitated not to indulge freely in this pleasant and healthy exercise in
the harbor of St. Pierre.

I was careful, however, to follow the advice of a veteran tar, to KEEP
IN MOTION WHILE IN THE WATER. The shark, unless very ferocious and
hungry, will not attack a man while he is swimming, or performing other
aquatic evolutions. At such times he will remain quiet, close at hand,
eyeing his intended victim with an eager and affectionate look; but the
moment the unsuspecting swimmer throws himself on his back, begins to
tread water, or discontinues the exercise of swimming preparatory to
getting on board, this man-eating rascal will pounce on a leg or an arm,
drag his victim beneath the surface, and accomplish the dreadful work.

After the many unfavorable specimens of "old salts" I had met with, I
was agreeably surprised to find that two of the crew of the John were
educated men. One of these was the son of a wealthy merchant of Boston,
who lived in the style of a prince at the "North End." This young sailor
had been wild and dissipated, and had lost for a time the confidence of
his relatives, and as a matter of course, WENT TO SEA. He made a good
sailor; and while I knew him in St. Pierre, and during the subsequent
years of his life, his conduct was in every way correct. His
conversation was improving, and his chest was well stored with books,
which he cheerfully loaned, and to which I was indebted for many happy
hours.

The other was an Irishman by birth, prematurely aged, of diminutive
stature, and unprepossessing appearance. He had been many years at sea;
had witnessed perilous scenes; had fought for his life with the savages
on board the Atahualpa on "the north-west coast"; had served in an
English man-of-war, from which he escaped by swimming ashore, a distance
of several miles, one night while cruising off the island of Antigua.
He reached the land completely exhausted more dead than alive and
was concealed for a time among the slave habitations on one of the
plantations.

Little Jack, as he was familiarly called, was a type of the old sailor
of those days, so far as his habits and general conduct was concerned.
He was reckless, bold, dissolute, generous, never desponding, ever ready
for a drunken frolic or a fight, to do a good deed, plan a piece of
mischief, or head a revolt. He seemed to find enjoyment in every change
which his strange destiny presented. And this man, who seemed at home in
a ship's forecastle, or when mingling with the lowest dregs of society,
had been educated at Trinity College, Dublin. He was well read in the
classics, and familiar with the writings of the old British poets.
He could quote elaborate passages from the best authors, and converse
fluently and learnedly on almost any subject.

Notwithstanding his cultivated mind and intellectual powers, which
should have placed him in a high position in society, he appeared
satisfied with his condition, and aspired to no loftier sphere than that
of a common sailor. We often meet with anomalies in the human character,
for which it would puzzle the most learned psychologist to account.
What strange and sad event had occurred in the early part of that man's
career, to change the current of his fortune, and make him contented in
a condition so humble, and a slave to habits so degrading? His story,
if faithfully told, might furnish a record of ambitious projects and
sanguine expectations, followed by blighted hopes which palsied all
succeeding exertions, and plunged him into the depths of dissipation and
vice.

Captain Turner and the worthy master of the John, the better to conceal
their iniquities from the lynx-eyed satellites of the law, agreed to
make an exchange of vessels, both having been officially condemned as
unseaworthy. For an equivalent, the schooner was to be laden with a
cargo, principally of molasses, and properly furnished with stores,
provisions, and water, for a passage to the United States by the way
of St. Bartholomew. The crews of the two vessels were then to be
interchanged, and Captain Turner his mate and crew, were to take up
their quarters in the John.

The arrangement was carried into effect; but two of the Dolphin's
crew, dissatisfied with the proceedings on board the brig, and thinking
matters would not be improved by a transfer to the schooner, and being
under no obligation to follow Captain Turner to another vessel, demanded
their discharge. In their stead he shipped a boy, about fourteen years
of age, whom he had persuaded to run away from an English merchant ship,
in which he was an apprentice, and an old Frenchman, who had served many
years in the carpenter's gang in a French man-of-war, and who understood
hardly a word of the English language.

We sailed from St. Pierre the day after we had taken possession of the
schooner, bound directly for St. Bartholomew.




Chapter VIII. THE WINDWARD ISLANDS

It is well known that one of the principal reasons for the declaration
of war against Great Britain in 1812, were the insults heaped on the
American flag, in every sea, by the navy of Great Britain. The British
government claimed and exercised THE RIGHT to board our ships, impress
their crews when not natives of the United States, examine their
cargoes, and subject our citizens navigating the high seas, to
inconvenience, detention, and conduct often of an annoying and insulting
character. The British government contended that the flag which waved
over the decks of our ships should be no protection to our ships or
seamen. For years our merchant vessels were compelled to submit to such
degrading insults from the navy of Great Britain.

The mode of exercising this "right of search," so far as relates to the
impressment of seamen, I have already had occasion to illustrate, and
the incident which I now relate will explain with tolerable clearness
the mode in which the British exercised this right in relation to
property.

Previously to the war with Great Britain, a profitable trade was carried
on between the United States and the English West India Islands. The
exports from the islands were limited chiefly to molasses and rum;
sugar and coffee being prohibited in American bottoms. According to the
British interpretation of the "right to search," every American vessel
which had taken in a cargo in a British, or any other port, was liable
to be searched, from the truck to the keelson, by any British cruiser
when met with on the high seas. And this inquisitorial process was
submitted to as a matter of course, though not without murmurs loud
and deep, from those who were immediately exposed to the inconveniences
attending this arbitrary exercise of power.

On the afternoon succeeding the day on which the schooner John left
Martinico, as we were quietly sailing along with a light breeze, under
the lee of the mountainous Island of Gaudaloupe, we saw a large ship at
anchor on a bank about a mile from the land, with the British ensign
at her peak, and a pennant streaming from her mast-head, sufficient
indications that we had fallen in with one of John Bull's cruisers. But
Captain Turner, conscious that his schooner was an American vessel,
and had been regularly cleared at St. Pierre, with a cargo of rum and
molasses, and there being no suspicious circumstances connected with
her appearance, her cargo, or her papers, apprehended no detention or
trouble from the British man-of-war.

A boat was soon seen to put off from the frigate, and it was not long
before it was alongside the John. An officer stepped on deck, and
politely asked the privilege of examining the ship's papers. This was
accorded. After having ascertained we were from a British port, the
officer coolly remarked it would be necessary to take the schooner
nearer the land and bring her to anchor, in order to institute a
thorough search into the true character of the cargo. He added that the
frigate was stationed there for the express purpose of intercepting and
overhauling such Yankee vessels as might pass along.

A signal was made to the frigate, and two additional boats were
despatched, which took our small vessel in tow, and in less than an hour
we found ourselves at anchor, in thirty fathoms of water, within half
musket shot of an English man-of-war. The launch was soon alongside, the
hatchways were taken off, tackles were rove, and a gang of the frigate's
crew went to work breaking out the cargo and hoisting it into the
launch. After the launch and other boats were laden, they hoisted the
casks on deck, and continued the operations in no gentle manner until
they reached the ground tier. They thus examined every cask, but found
nothing but molasses and rum.

They then commenced "stowing the cargo," as they called it; and the
hogsheads of molasses were tossed into the hold, and handled as roughly
as hogsheads of tobacco. It was about sunset on the following day when
the last cask was stowed. The anchor was then weighed, the sails
set, and the lieutenant, having put into the hands of the captain a
certificate from the commander of the frigate that the schooner had been
searched, for the purpose of preventing a repetition of that agreeable
ceremony, told him he was at liberty to go where he thought proper, and
politely wished him a pleasant voyage.

Our vessel was thus detained twenty-four hours; and in consequence of
this detention, the passage to St. Bartholomew was lengthened several
days, as a calm commenced soon after we were liberated, which lasted
that time. The cargo also received injury from the rough handling of the
British tars, insomuch that before we reached St. Bartholomew, several
casks had lost nearly all their contents; and if we had been bound
directly to the United States, it is probable that a considerable
portion of the cargo would have been pumped out with the bilge water.

This is only one of a thousand cases which might be cited to show the
PRINCIPLE on which the British acted towards neutral powers on the
broad ocean, as well as in the British waters, at that time. The British
government, since the war of 1812, have attempted by negotiations
to reestablish this principle. But the attempt has been firmly and
successfully resisted; and it may be safely predicted that this "right"
will never again be claimed by Great Britain, or conceded by the United
States.

Our government, which is a government of the people, and supported
mainly by commerce, cannot be too vigilant and firm in its endeavors to
protect the persons and property of our citizens on the ocean against
the oppression or outrages of any naval power. Let us, as an honorable,
high-minded nation, cordially cooperate with any other nation in
attempts to check and destroy the traffic in slaves, so revolting in
its character, which is carried on between Africa and places on this
continent. Let us be a party to any honorable treaty having this for
its object; but let us never listen to the idea that the American flag,
waving at the peak or masthead of an American vessel, is no protection
to the property on board, or the liberties of the passengers and crew.

Captain Turner promptly availed himself of the permission so graciously
given by the commander of the British cruiser, and we proceeded on our
way to St. Bartholomew. There is probably no sailing in the world more
pleasant and interesting than among the group of beautiful islands
reaching from Trinidad to St. Bartholomew. With a smooth sea and a
gentle, refreshing trade wind, as the vessel glides past these emerald
gems of the ocean, a picturesque and ever-varying landscape is produced,
as if by the wand of some powerful enchanter. Grenada, the Grenadines,
St. Vincent, St. Lucia, Martinico, Dominica, Guadaloupe, Montserrat,
Saba, St. Kitts, Nevis, and St. Bartholomew, all seem to pass in swift
succession before the eye of the observer.

These islands are all, with the exception of St. Bartholomew, more
or less cultivated, but being mountainous and of volcanic origin, the
productive lands lie on the base of the mountains, or on the spacious
intervals and valleys near the sea shore. Studded with plantations, each
of which resembles a little village planned by some skilful landscape
gardener; with crystal streams dashing down the mountain sides; with
dense forests covering the high lands and mountain summits; with bays
and indentations along the coast, each with a thriving village at the
extremity, defended by fortifications; with ships at anchor in the
roadsteads, and droghers coasting along the shores; with an atmosphere
richly laden with sweets, and all the interesting associations connected
with a tropical climate; these islands furnish an array of attractions
which are hardly surpassed in the Western Hemisphere. The beautiful
description in the song of Mignon, in the "Wilhelm Meister" of Goethe,
of a land of fruits and flowers, will apply with singular felicity to
these Windward Islands:

"Know'st thou the land where the pale citron grows, And the gold orange
through dark foliage glows? A soft wind flutters from the deep blue sky,
The myrtle blooms, and towers the laurel high. Know'st thou it well?"

I have sometimes wondered why the capitalists of New England, in search
of recreation and pleasure for themselves and families instead of
crossing the Atlantic to visit the oft-described and stale wonders of
the Old World, do not charter a yacht or a packet schooner, and with
a goodly company take a trip to the West Indies, sail around and among
these islands, visit places of interest, accept the hospitality of the
planters, which is always freely bestowed, and thus secure a fund of
rational enjoyment, gratify a laudable curiosity in relation to the
manners and habits of the people of the torrid zone, and bring away a
multitude of agreeable impressions on their minds, which will keep vivid
and fresh the remainder of their lives.

After leaving Martinico, we found, on broaching our provisions, that
they were of bad quality, of the worst possible description. The bread,
deposited in bags, was of a dark color, coarse texture, and French
manufacture. It must have been of an inferior kind when new and fresh,
and a long tarry in a tropical climate was not calculated to improve
its character. Besides being mouldy, it was dotted with insects, of an
unsightly appearance and unsavory flavor. The quality of the beef was,
if possible, worse than that of the bread, and we had no other kinds of
provisions. Before we arrived at St. Bartholomew the water began to give
signs of impurity. The casks, stowed in the half-deck, had been filled
through a molasses hose. In all likelihood, the hose had not been
cleansed, and the saccharine property of the molasses mingling with the
water in that hot climate had caused a fermentation, the effect of
which was nauseous to the taste and unpleasant to the eye. We consoled
ourselves, however, with the idea that the passage would be a short one,
only a few days, and that better provisions would be furnished when we
reached St. Bartholomew.

The Island of St. Bartholomew is a mountainous rock, three or four miles
in diameter, with here and there a few patches of verdure, but destitute
of trees or cultivated lands. The inhabitants are dependent on the
neighboring islands, and importations from distant countries, for the
means of sustaining life. Even water for drinking and culinary purposes
is brought from St. Martin, Nevis, or St. Kitts. It has a snug harbor on
the western side, easy of access, in which many vessels can lie safely
moored, excepting in a hurricane. Indeed, there is hardly a harbor in
the Windward Islands, north of Grenada, where a vessel can be secure
during the hurricane months. These tempests, when blowing from any
quarter, seem to defy all the efforts of man to withstand their
violence; twist the ships from their anchors, force them on the reefs
or drive them out to sea, sometimes without ballast or the fraction of a
crew.

It may appear singular that St. Bartholomew, with no productions
whatever, and lying almost in the midst of the most fertile and
productive of the Windward Islands, should nevertheless have been a
place of great trade, and at certain times the most important depot for
merchandise in those islands. St. Bartholomew has belonged to Sweden
during the whole of the present century; and Sweden having been
occasionally exempted form the wars waged against each other by England
and France, this island, of no intrinsic value in itself, became a
sort of neutral ground; a port where all nations could meet on friendly
terms; where traders belonging to England, France, the United States,
or other powers, could deposit or sell their goods, purchase West India
produce, and transact business of any description.

At the time to which I refer, in 1810, the "Orders in Council" of
England, and the "Berlin and Milan Decrees" of Napoleon, were in force.
As a counteracting stroke of policy, the Non-intercourse Act, to which I
have already alluded, was passed by our government, and the neutral port
of St. Bartholomew suddenly became a place of immense importance. When
we entered the harbor in the John, it was with difficulty that a berth
could be found; at least two hundred and fifty vessels, a large portion
of which were Americans, were in port, discharging or taking in cargo.
Captain Turner found no trouble in selling his molasses. He dared not
run the risk of taking it to the United States, lest his roguery should
be discovered through some flaw in his papers, and his vessel and
cargo seized by revenue officers. He retained only a few casks of rum,
sufficient to pay port charges, and prepared to sail for a southern
port.

Shortly before we arrived at St. Bartholomew, a ship belonging to
Connecticut, in consequence of some irregularity in her proceedings, was
seized by the authorities and taken possession of by a guard of ten or
a dozen soldiers. The ship was about ready for sea when this event
took place; and on the following day, according to a preconcerted plan
between the captain and Mr. Arnold, the supercargo, the officers and
crew rose upon the soldiers, deprived them of their arms, and forced
them below. Then they quietly slipped the cables, and let the ship drift
gradually out of the harbor, until past the shipping, when every sail
was instantly spread, as if by magic, and before the mystified garrison
of the fort could understand the curious manoeuver, realize the audacity
of the Yankees, and get ready their guns, the ship was beyond the reach
of their shot. In the offing the ship fell in with one of the large
boats trading between St. Bartholomew and St. Martin, and put the
soldiers on board, who were thus promptly returned to their barracks.

The Swedish authorities were justly indignant at such high-handed
proceedings. Arnold remained behind to transact some unfinished
business, but was arrested and thrown into prison, where he remained
several weeks. Seeing no prospect of being released, he feigned
insanity, and acted the madman to the life; insomuch that the
authorities were glad to discharge him on condition that his friends
would send him from the island.

During the year 1809, a French privateer, called the Superior, a large
schooner of the "Baltimore pilot boat" model, was the terror of the
British in the Caribbean seas. The pilot boats built at Baltimore, to
cruise off the mouth of the Chesapeake, have ever been celebrated for
their sailing qualities, especially their ability to beat to windward;
and vessels of larger size than the pilot boats, reaching to the
capacity of three hundred tons, but built according to this peculiar
Baltimore model, were for many years acknowledged the swiftest class of
sailing vessels in any country at any period. At what particular time
this model was introduced, it may be difficult to ascertain; but as
early as the period to which I refer, the term "Baltimore clipper" was
a familiar term. Numbers of them were sold to individuals residing
in ports belonging to the belligerent powers, and commissioned as
privateers; others were purchased for slavers; and during the wars
carried on by Spain and Portugal with their provinces in South America,
the "Baltimore clippers" made a conspicuous figure, being fitted out as
privateers and manned in the ports of a nation which held out to them
the olive branch of peace.

The privateer Superior was commanded by a brave and energetic Frenchman,
who took a singular pleasure in inflicting injuries on British commerce.
This privateer, fitted out at Port Royal in Martinico, was said to have
been the fastest vessel every known among the islands, and her commander
laughed to scorn the attempts made to capture him by the finest vessels
in the English navy. Indeed, the Superior seemed to be ubiquitous. One
day she would be seen hovering off the island of Antigua, and after
pouncing on an unfortunate English ship, would take out the valuables
and specie, if there were any on board, transfer the officers and crew
to a drogher bound into the harbor, and then scuttle the vessel. On the
day following, a ship would be seen on fire off Montserrat or St. Kitts,
which would prove to have been an English merchantman captured and
destroyed by the Superior; and perhaps, a few days afterwards, this
privateer would be pursuing a similar career on the shores of Barbadoes,
far to windward, or levying contributions from the planters on the
coasts of Grenada or Trinidad.

Indeed, the sailing qualities of this privateer were a marvel to all
"old salts"; and many an honest man who had never heard of a "Baltimore
pilot boat built" craft, was sorely puzzled to account for the success
of the Superior in avoiding the many traps that had been set by the
long-headed officers of the British ships on that station. By many it
was believed that the French captain had unlawful dealings with the
enemy of mankind, and for the pleasure of annoying the English, and the
gratification of filling his pockets with the spoils of the enemies of
France, had signed away his soul!

The company of men-of-war seemed to be no protection against capture by
this privateer. A fleet of merchantmen, convoyed by several armed ships,
would be intruded on during the night, and one or more of them captured
without alarm, and then rifled, and scuttled or burned. On one occasion,
after combined efforts had been made to capture the Superior, and it was
believed that vessel had been driven from those seas, a homeward bound
fleet of merchantmen, on the first night after leaving Antigua, was
approached by this privateer, and in the course of a couple of hours
three different ships, in different stations of the squadron, had
been captured, plundered, and fired by that indefatigable enemy of the
English.

At last, one after another, every French port in the islands was taken
by the British, and there was no longer a nook belonging to France to
which this privateer could resort for protection, supplies, or
repairs, It was furthermore rumored that this vessel was not regularly
commissioned; and that, if captured by an enemy, the officers and crew
to a man, and the captain more especially, would be hanged at the yard
arm, AS PIRATES, without any very formal process of law.

The privateer was by this time well laden with spoils, having on board,
in silks, specie, gums, and bullion, property to the amount of nearly a
million of dollars. One fine morning, a British sloop-of-war, cruising
between Nevis and St. Bartholomew, was astonished at beholding the
Superior, that "rascally French Privateer," as well known in those seas
as the Flying Dutchman off the Cape of Good Hope, come down from
the windward side of St. Bartholomew under easy sail, pass round the
southern point of the island, hoist the tri-colored flag, as if by
way of derision, and boldly enter the harbor belonging to the Swedish
government, and a neutral port.

It was not many hours before the sloop-of-war, having hauled her wind,
was off the harbor, lying off and on; and the captain, in full uniform,
his mouth filled with menaces and denunciations of British vengeance,
and his cranium well crammed with quotations from Vattel, Grotius,
Puffendorf, and other venerable worthies, was on his way to the shore in
a state of great excitement. When he reached the landing, he found only
the HULL of the privateer, with the spars and rigging. The officers
and crew had already disappeared, each carrying off his portion of the
spoils. The captain was not visible; but it was said he left the island
a few days afterwards for the United States, under an assumed name,
whence he subsequently proceeded to France, with an immense amount of
property, which the fortune of war had transferred from British subjects
to his pockets. The schooner was hauled up to the head of the careenage,
and on examination it appeared that every part of the vessel had been
so strained by carrying sail, and so much damage had been done to her
planks and timbers by worms, that she was good for nothing. The spars,
sails, and rigging were sold; but the hull, which soon filled with
water, remained for years, admired by every genuine sailor as the most
perfect model of a fast-sailing vessel that could be devised by the
ingenuity of man.

When the schooner John was nearly ready for sea, my uncle, Captain
Tilton, whom I had left in Charleston, arrived in port in a clipper
schooner called the Edwin. He was bound for Mobile, where he intended
establishing a mercantile house in connection with a gentleman named
Waldron, a native of Portsmouth, who had resided several years in
Charleston. I had one brief interview with him, but no opportunity
offered of entering into the details of my unenviable position on board
the John. On a hint from me that I was dissatisfied, and should not
object to accompany him in the Edwin, he gravely shook his head, and
remarked that such a course would be unusual and improper; that he was
about to retire from the sea; that it would be best for me to stick by
Captain Turner, in whom I should always find a friend, and perform the
whole voyage I had undertaken.

He left the port on the following day, bound for the Gulf of Mexico, and
I never saw him again. He encountered a "norther" on the coast of Cuba,
and the Edwin struck on the Colorado Reef, and all on board perished!

It was believed that Captain Turner, as a matter of course, would
procure a sufficient quantity of good water, and some tolerable
provisions for the forecastle hands, before we proceeded on our voyage.
But our worthy captain, who was a great worshipper of the "almighty
dollar," in whatever shape it appeared, had no intentions of the kind.
Water was scarce, and cost ten dollars a cask. Beef and bread also cost
money, and we left St. Bartholomew with only the wretched apology for
provisions and water which were put on board in Martinico.

Probably no American vessel ever left a port with such miserable
provisions for a voyage. Bread, beef, and water constituted our variety.
We had no rice, beans, Indian meal, fish, or any other of the numerous
articles usually furnished by merchants for the sustenance of the
sailors who navigate their ships; and SUCH beef, bread, and water as we
were doomed to live upon for three successive weeks after we left St.
Bartholomew, was surely never prescribed by the most rigid anchorite
and exacting devotee as a punishment for the sins of a hardened
transgressor.




Chapter IX. ARRIVAL AT SAVANNAH

Captain Turner, on being urged to provide some palatable food and drink,
declared with an oath that he did not select the provisions of fill the
water; that this was done by others who knew what they were about; that
every thing on board was good enough for us, and if we did not like it
we might starve and BE HANGED!

This was a clincher it ended the argument. There was nothing left for us
but to put the best face, even if it should be a wry face, on troubles
we could not overcome or diminish.

In a choice of food there is a wide difference in taste. One people will
regard as a luxury a viand or condiment which is repugnant to another.
Locusts have been used from time immemorial for food by different tribes
of Arabs. Snail soup was once regarded in Europe as a delicious dish.
In the West Indies and South America the guano, a species of lizard, is
devoured with gusto. Bird's nests command enormous prices as an edible
in China, where also dogs and cats are ordinary food. At Rome camels'
heels were a tidbit for an epicure. Whale's tongues ranked among the
delicacies feasted on by the Europeans in the middle centuries. The bark
of the palm tree is the abiding place of a large worm, which is sought
for, roasted, and devoured as a delicacy. In Brazil, a monkey pie is a
favorite dish, and the head of the monkey is made to protrude and show
its teeth above the crust by way of ornament. Indeed, habit, we are
told, will reconcile a person to unsavory diet. But neither habit nor
necessity could reconcile me to the food and drink which, to sustain
life, I was compelled to swallow on board the John.

The water, owing to causes to which I have already alluded, was
exceedingly offensive to the palate and the olfactories. It was also
slimy and ropy; and was drank only as a means and a wretched one of
prolonging life. For the inmates of the cabin the water was boiled or
diluted with brandy, which, in a slight degree, lessened its disgusting
flavor. But this was a luxury that was denied the seamen, who had to
quaff it in all its richness.

Our beef, in quality, was on a par with the water. It was Irish beef,
so called, wretchedly poor when packed; but having been stored in a hot
climate, probably for years, it had lost what little excellence it
once possessed, and acquired other qualities of which the packer never
dreamed. The effluvia arising from a barrel of this beef, when opened,
was intolerable. When boiled in clean salt water the strong flavor was
somewhat modified, and it was reduced by shrinkage at least one half.
The palate could not become reconciled to it; and the longer we lived
upon it the less we liked it.

But our bread! What shall I say of our bread? I have already spoken of
it as mouldy and ANIMATED. On several occasions, in the course of my
adventures, I have seen ship bread which could boast of those abominable
attributes, remnants of former voyages put on board ships by unfeeling
skinflints, to be "used up" before the new provisions were broached,
but I never met with any which possessed those attributes to the extent
which was the case on board the schooner John. Although many years have
passed since I was supported and invigorated by that "staff of life," I
cannot even now think of it without a shudder of disgust! On placing a
biscuit by my side when seated upon deck, it would actually be put in
motion by some invisible machinery, and if thrown on the hot coals in
order to destroy the living works within, and prevent the biscuit from
walking off, it would make an angry sputtering wondrous to hear!

Such was the character of our food and drink on our passage to the
United States. It initiated me, even at the beginning of my sea-going
career, into the most repulsive mysteries of a seaman's life. And
whenever, in subsequent voyages, I have been put upon poor diet, I
mentally contrasted it with the wretched fare during my second voyage to
sea, smacked my lips, and called it luxury.

Steering to the northward we passed near the Island of Sombrero, glided
from the Caribbean Sea into the Atlantic Ocean, and wended our way
towards the Carolinas.

Sombrero is an uninhabited island, a few miles only in circumference.
It offers to the dashing waves on every side a steep, craggy cliff, from
thirty to fifty feet high. Its surface is flat, and entirely destitute
of vegetation; and at a distance, a fanciful imagination can trace, in
the outline of the island, a faint resemblance to the broad Spanish hat,
called a "sombrero," from which it takes its name.

This island, as well as all the other uninhabited islands in that part
of the world, has ever been a favorite resort for birds, as gulls of
several varieties, noddies, man-of-war birds, pelicans, and others. It
has recently been ascertained that Sombrero is entitled to the proud
appellation of "a guano island," and a company has been organized,
consisting of persons belonging to New England, for the purpose of
carrying off its rich deposits, which are of a peculiarly valuable
character, being found beneath a bed of coral limestone several feet
in thickness, and must consequently possess all the advantages which
antiquity can confer.

It was on this island, many years ago, that an English brig struck in
a dark night, while "running down the trades." The officers and crew,
frightened at the dashing of the breakers and the gloomy aspect of the
rocks which frowned upon them from above, made their escape on shore in
"double quick time," some of them marvellously thinly clad, even for
a warm climate. As soon as they had safely landed on the cliffs, and
congratulated each other on their good fortune, the brig, by a heave of
the sea, became disengaged from the rocks, and floating off, drifted to
leeward, to the great mortification of the crew, and was fallen in with
a day or two afterwards, safe and sound, near Anegada Reef, and carried
into St. Thomas. The poor fellows, who manifested such alacrity in
quitting "a sinking ship," suffered greatly from hunger and exposure.
They erected a sort of flagstaff, on which they displayed a jacket as a
signal of distress, and in the course of a few days were taken off by an
American vessel bound to Santa Cruz.

The feeling which prompts a person, in the event of a sudden danger at
sea, to quit his own vessel and look abroad for safety, appears to be
instinctive. In cases of collision, portions of the crews are sometimes
suddenly exchanged; and a man will find himself, unconscious of, an
effort, on board a strange vessel, then arouse himself, as if from an
unquiet sleep, and return to his ship as rapidly as he left her.

It sometimes happens that vessels, which have run into each other in the
night time, separate under circumstances causing awkward results.
The ship Pactolus, of Boston, bound from Hamburg through the English
channel, while running one night in a thick fog near the Goodwin Sands,
fell in with several Dutch galliots, lying to, waiting for daylight, and
while attempting to steer clear of one, ran foul of another, giving
the Dutchman a terrible shaking and carrying away one of the masts. The
captain, a young man, was below, asleep in his berth, dreaming, it may
be, of happy scenes in which a young and smiling "jung frow" formed a
prominent object. He rushed from his berth, believing his last hour was
come, sprang upon deck, and seeing a ship alongside, made one leap into
the chainwales of the strange vessel, and another one over the rail to
the deck. A moment afterwards the vessels separated; the galliot was
lost sight of in the fog, and Mynheer was astonished to find himself,
while clad in the airy costume of a shirt and drawers, safely and
suddenly transferred from his comfortable little vessel to the deck of
an American ship bound across the Atlantic.

The poor fellow jabbered away, in his uncouth native language, until his
new shipmates feared his jaws would split asunder. They furnished him
with garments, entertained him hospitably, and on the following day
landed him on the pier at Dover.

We met with no extraordinary occurrences on our passage to the United
States until we reached the Gulf Stream, noted for heavy squalls,
thunder storms, and a turbulent sea, owing to the effect on the
atmosphere produced by the difference of temperatures between the water
in the current and the water on each side.

The night on which we entered the Gulf Stream, off the coast of the
Carolinas, the weather was exceedingly suspicious. Dark, double-headed
clouds hung around the horizon, and although the wind was light, a
hurricane would not have taken us by surprise at any moment; and as the
clouds rose slowly with a threatening aspect, no calculation could be
made on which side the tempest would come. The lightnings illumined
the heavens, serving to render the gloom more conspicuous, and the
deep-toned rumblings of the thunder were heard in the distance.

At eight o'clock, when the watch was called, the schooner was put under
short canvas, and due preparations were made for any change in the
weather. The starboard watch was then told to go below, but to "be ready
for a call." This watch, all told, consisted of the old French carpenter
and myself, and we gladly descended into the narrow, leaky, steaming
den, called the forecastle, reposing full confidence in the vigilance of
our shipmates in the larboard watch, and knowing that if the ship should
be dismasted, or even capsized, while we were quietly sleeping below, it
would be through no fault of ours, and we could not be held responsible.
In five minutes after the forescuttle was closed, we were snugly
ensconced in our berths, oblivious of squalls and gales, and all the
disagreeable duties of making and taking in sail on a wet and stormy
night, enjoying a comfortable nap and dreaming of happy times on shore.

We were soon aroused from our dreams, and brought back to the realities
of life, by the rough voice of my old shipmate, Eastman, yelling out in
tones which would have carried terror to the soul of an Indian warrior,
"ALL HANDS AHOY! Tumble up, lads! Bear a hand on deck!" I jumped out of
my berth, caught my jacket in one hand, and my tarpaulin in the other,
and hastened on deck, closely followed by the carpenter, and also the
cook, whose office being little better than a sinecure, he was called
upon whenever help was wanted. The wind was blowing a gale, and the
rain was falling in heavy drops, and the schooner was running off to the
southward at a tremendous rate, with the wind on the quarter.

"There is a waterspout after us," exclaimed Captain Turner, as we made
our appearance, "and we must give it the slip, or be grabbed by Davy
Jones. Be alive for once! If that fellow comes over us, he will capsize,
perhaps sink us! Stand by!"

I looked astern, and saw, about a point on the larboard quarter, a
black, misshapen body, which seemed to reach from the heavens down to
the surface of the sea. Although the night was dark as Erebus, this mass
could easily be distinguished from the thick clouds which shut out the
stars, and covered the whole surface of the sky. It moved towards us
with fearful rapidity, being much fleeter in the race than our little
schooner.

The captain, who, to do him justice, was not only a good sailor, but
cool and resolute in the hour of danger, would fix his eye one moment on
the waterspout, and the next on the compass, in order to ascertain the
course which this unwelcome visitor was taking. A minute had scarcely
elapsed, during which every man breathed harder and quicker than he was
wont to do, being in a state of agonizing suspense, when Captain turner
decided on his plan of operations; and it was time, for the waterspout
was but a few hundred yards off, and came rushing towards us like a
ferocious monster intent on mischief.

"Stand by to gibe!" cried the captain. "Hard a-port your helm! Look out
for that foresheet." As the schooner fell off and again came gradually
to the wind, she shot across the hawse of the waterspout, which swept
closely along under our stern, almost spattering the water in our very
faces, and tearing and roaring like the cataract of Niagara!

We watched its progress with thrilling interest, and when it got upon
our quarter, and we were convinced it could not come on board, Captain
Turner called out in exulting tones, "We have dodged it handsomely boys,
and cheated Davy Jones of his prey this time. Hurrah!"

It is hardly necessary to say we all breathed easier as the waterspout
sailed majestically away, and in a few minutes was out of sight. This
was one of those occurrences which might well shake the nerves of the
most firm and courageous tar. Indeed, the whole scene on that memorable
night was far more akin to the sublime than the beautiful. There were
the heavy black clouds piled upon each other near the horizon, or
hanging loosely and dripping overhead, portending a fearful conflict
among the elements; there was the wind, which came in fitful gusts,
whistling and singing in mournful cadence among the blocks and rigging;
there was the agitated and furrowed face of the ocean, which had been
lashed to fury by successive storms, and lighted up in every direction
by innumerable brilliant phosphorescent particles, in which, it is well
known, the waters of the Gulf Stream abound; there were the rolling
echoes of the thunder, and the zig zag, chain lightning, which every
few seconds enveloped the heavens and the ocean in a frightful livid
garment; and, as if to cap the climax, there was the giant column,
darker, much darker than the dark clouds around us, reaching from those
clouds and resting on the waters, and threatening to sweep our whole
ship's company into eternity.

On the day succeeding our adventure with the waterspout, the wind
died away, although the heavy clouds still hung about the horizon. The
schooner, lying in the trough of the sea, was fearfully uneasy; but
towards night a regular gale of wind commenced, and our vessel was hove
to under a double-reefed foresail. It was near the close of the first
watch when the fore-topsail getting loose on the lee yard arm, I went
aloft to secure it. After I had accomplished this work, I lingered a few
minutes on the yard to enjoy the beauty of the storm. The waves, urged
by the fury of the gale, were breaking around us in majestic style;
the schooner was rocking to and fro, and occasionally took a lee lurch,
which made every timber in her bottom quiver.

I had finished my survey of the wind and weather, and was about to
descend to the deck, when I carelessly cast my eyes aloft, and there
beheld a sight which struck terror to my soul. On the very summit of the
main-topmast on the truck itself, was A HUGE BALL OF FIRE! It seemed
a mass of unearthly light of livid hue, which shed a dismal radiance
around. The rain fell at the time, but quenched it not; and the
heaviest gusts of wind served neither to extinguish it, nor increase its
brilliancy. It kept its station unmoved, shining terribly through the
storm, like some dread messenger, sent by a superior power to give
warning of impending disaster.

I was appalled with terror at the sight. Although by no means credulous
or superstitious, I could hardly resist the belief that this globe of
fire, which appeared thus suddenly in the midst of a furious storm,
at dead of night, and on a spot where it could not have been placed or
kindled by the hand of man, was of supernatural origin. I shuddered with
fear; a strange giddiness came over me; and I had hardly strength to
cling to the shrouds as I descended to the deck.

I pointed out the object of my terror to my watch-mate, the French
carpenter, who gazed at it earnestly, and then, turning to me, nodded
his head emphatically two or three times, like a Chinese mandarin, and
grinned. This pantomimic display was intended to convey much meaning
more than I could interpret. But it convinced me that the carpenter was
familiar with such sights, which, perhaps, were not very remarkable,
after all.

When the watch was called, I pointed out the fiery ball to Eastman, and
to Mr. Adams, the mate, and learned that the object which gave me such
a fright was not of very unfrequent occurrence during a gale of wind. It
was known among seamen by the name of CORPOSANT, or COMPLAISANT, being
a corruption of "cuerpo santo," the name it received from the Spaniards.
It is supposed to be formed of phosphorescent particles of jelly, blown
from the surface of the water during a storm, and which, clinging to the
rigging, gradually accumulate, and ascend until they reach the truck.
The mass remains there for a time, and then disappears. Sometimes it is
seen on the topsail yard or at the end of the flying jib-boom.

A few days afterwards, having crossed "the Gulf," we made the land off
the mouth of Savannah River; saw Tybee Lighthouse; took a pilot, and
proceeded up to the city. When we left St. Bartholomew, it was given out
that we were bound to Wilmington; on the passage we spoke a vessel, and
Captain Turner, on being questioned, said we were bound to Charleston.
For good and sufficient reasons, known to himself, he did not think
proper to gratify idle curiosity.

But while our shrewd captain was dexterously managing to deceive the
revenue officers, and obtain all the advantages of the fair trader,
a circumstance occurred through his own ignorance or neglect, which
brought about the very catastrophe he was taking such pains to avoid.

The cargo, as I have stated, consisted of only a few puncheons of rum.
A permit was obtained, and one morning they were landed on the wharf.
At that time there was a law of the United States which forbade the
importation of rum in casks containing less than ninety gallons. The
officer appointed to gauge the casks that were landed from the schooner
ascertained that one of them measured only seventy-eight gallons. He
proclaimed the fact, and hastened to the Custom House to notify the
collector. In the mean time, Mr. Howard, the merchant who transacted
business for Captain Turner, heard of the affair, and, accompanied by
the captain, came on board.

Instead of acknowledging an involuntary violation of law, and
explaining to the collector the cause of the error, these gentlemen very
imprudently ordered the objectionable cask to be rolled in on deck, and
all hands were set at work to transfer its contents to an empty water
cask, which was of greater capacity than ninety gallons. The trick might
have succeeded had the revenue officers allowed sufficient time. The
work was commenced, and the liquor was running out, making a gurgling
noise, when down came the collector with a numerous posse at his heels!

We were caught in the very act. A war of words ensued; but the
explanations given under the attendant circumstances were so
unsatisfactory, that the vigilant chief of the customs clapped his broad
mark on the mainmast, and seized the vessel and the unfortunate cask of
rum in the name and behalf of the United States!




Chapter X. "HOME! SWEET HOME!"

The afternoon of the day on which we arrived in Savannah, after the
vessel was secured to the wharf, and the decks put in proper condition,
the four half-starved individuals, composing the crew of the schooner
John, gayly stepped ashore, and proceeded in quest of some wholesome and
palatable food. Our pockets were not well lined, and we sought not for
luxuries; but we yearned for a good, full meal, which would satisfy our
appetite a blessing we had not enjoyed for several weeks.

After passing through a couple of streets, we came to a humble but
neat-looking dwelling house, with an apology for a garden in front.
Tables and seats were arranged beneath some trees; "spruce beer" was
advertised for sale, but there were indications that other kinds of
refreshments could be obtained. The place wore a comfortable aspect.
We nodded smilingly to each other, as much as to say, "This will do!"
entered the gateway, which stood invitingly open, and took seats at a
table.

Eastman, who was a native of New Hampshire, had resided many years on
a farm, and knew what was good living, inquired boldly of the master of
the establishment if he could furnish each of us with a capacious bowl
of bread and milk. The man replied that he could. On inquiring the
price, we found, to our great joy, that it was within our means. He was
told to bring it along; and in a few minutes, which seemed an age, the
bread and milk were placed before us.

The milk was cool, and of good quality. The bread was in the form of
rolls, newly baked, and manufactured of the finest flour. The aspect of
these "refreshments" was of the most tempting character! To our excited
imaginations, they equalled the nectar and ambrosia which furnished
the feasts on Mount Olympus. We did not tarry long to gaze upon their
beauties, or contemplate their excellence. Each one broke a roll
into his basin of milk, seized a spoon, and without speaking a word,
commenced operations with exemplary energy, with cheeks glowing with
excitement, and eyes glistening with pleasure; while our good-natured
host gazed in wonder on our proceedings, and grinned approbation!

Our gratification was complete. We returned to the schooner in better
spirits and in better health, after having partaken of this invigorating
meal; and although I have since dined with epicures, and been regaled
with delicious food prepared in the most artistic style, I never tasted
a dish which seemed so grateful to my palate, which so completely
suffused my whole physical system with gratification bordering on
ecstasy, as that humble bowl of bread and milk in Savannah.

The schooner having been seized by the government for unlawful
transactions, the crew were compelled to wait until the trial took
place before they could receive the wages due for their services. If the
vessel should not be condemned, they were to look to Captain Turner for
their pay. But on the other hand, if the vessel should be confiscated,
the United States authorities would be obliged to pay the wages due at
the time the seizure took place. In the mean time we were furnished with
board, such as it was, and lodging in the schooner, and awaited with
impatience the result of the trial.

Captain Turner, being a shrewd business man, was not idle during this
intermission. Having reasons to believe his vessel would be condemned,
he resolved that the government authorities should obtain possession of
nothing more than the bare hull and spars. Under cover of the night he
stripped the schooner of the cables and anchors, the running rigging,
the spare spars, water casks, boats, sails, cabin furniture, blocks,
compasses, and handspikes. The government got "a hard bargain," when the
naked hull of this old worn-out craft came into their hands.

One beautiful morning while lying at the wharf in Savannah, two barges,
each having its stern-seats occupied by three well-dressed gentlemen,
looking as serious and determined as if bent on some important business,
left the landing place astern of the schooner, and proceeded rapidly
down the river. A throng of inquisitive observers, who knew the nature
of their errand, collected ere they started from the wharf, and gazed
intently on the boats until the intervening marshes concealed them from
view.

These gentlemen were to act as principals, seconds, and surgeons, in
a duel for which all proper arrangements had been made. At a ball the
evening before, a dispute had arisen between two high-spirited youths,
connected with highly-respectable families, in relation to the right of
dancing with a beautiful girl, the belle of the ball-room. Irritating
and insulting language was indulged in by both parties; a challenge was
given and promptly accepted. They proceeded in the way I have related to
the South Carolina bank of the river, there to settle the controversy
by gunpowder logic, and shoot at each other until one or both parties
should be fully satisfied.

Having seen the duellists fairly embarked, I felt a deep interest in the
result, and eagerly watched for the return of the barges. In the course
of little more than an hour, one of the boats was seen ascending the
river, and rapidly approached the wharf. One of the principals, followed
by his friend, stepped ashore with a triumphant air, as if he had done
a noble deed, and walked up the wharf. But no satisfactory information
could be obtained respecting the result of the duel.

In about half a hour the other boat made its appearance. It moved slowly
along, propelled by only a couple of oars. The reason for this was soon
explained by the sight of a man, extended on the thwarts, and writhing
with pain. This proved to be one of the duellists, who was shot in the
groin at the second fire, and dangerously wounded. The boat reached the
landing place, and the surgeon and the second both went up the wharf in
search of some means of transporting the unfortunate man to his home.
Meanwhile he lay upon his rude couch exposed to the nearly vertical rays
of the sun; his only attendant a negro, who brushed away the flies which
annoyed him. His features were of a deadly pallor; he breathed with
difficulty, and appeared to suffer much from pain.

Some ten or fifteen minutes elapsed ere the friends of the wounded man
returned, bringing a litter, mattress, and bearers. He was too ill to
be conveyed through the streets in a coach. A mournful procession was
formed, and he was thus carried, in a bleeding and dying condition, to
his relatives, a mother and sisters, from whom he had parted a few hours
before, in all the strength and vigor of early manhood.

As I gazed upon this wounded man, the absurdity of the custom of
duelling, as practised among civilized nations, struck me in all its
force. One scene like this, taken in connection with the attendant
circumstances, is more convincing than volumes of logic, or a thousand
homilies. For a few hasty words, exchanged in a moment of anger, two
men, instructed in the precepts of the Christian religion, professing
to be guided by true principles of honesty and honor, who had ever borne
high characters for worth, and perhaps, IN CONSEQUENCE of the elevated
position they hold among respectable men, meet by appointment in a
secluded spot, and proceed in the most deliberate manner to take each
other's lives to commit MURDER a crime of the most fearful magnitude
known among nations, and denounced as such by the laws of man and the
laws of God.

In due time the fate of the schooner John was decided. The vessel was
condemned, and the crew received notice to bring in their bills for
the amount of wages due. Captain Turner kindly offered to make out my
account, and shortly afterwards handed me my bill against the United
States government for services on board, the amount of which overwhelmed
me with astonishment.

"There is surely a mistake in this bill, sir," said I; "the amount is
far more than I am entitled to. You forget I shipped for only fifteen
dollars a month, and including my advanced month's pay, I have already
received a considerable portion of my wages."

"I forget nothing of the kind, Hawser," replied the captain, with a
benevolent smile. "You may just as well receive fifty dollars as five
and twenty. The government will be none the poorer for it."

"But, sir, will it be RIGHT for me to carry in an account so greatly
exceeding in amount what is my due?"

"My lad," replied the captain, a little embarrassed, "You must not be
so scrupulous in these trifling matters, or you will never make your way
through the world at any rate you will never do for a sailor. The
rest of the men make no objections to putting a little money in their
pockets, and why should YOU? Even Mr. Adams, the mate, will receive
double the amount of money which rightfully belongs to him!"

"But, sir," I replied, greatly shocked at this intelligence, and my
features undoubtedly expressed my abhorrence of this strange system of
ethics, "do you expect me to go before a magistrate and take a solemn
oath that the account you have jut put into my hands is a just and true
one? You surely would not ADVISE me to commit such a crime!"

The captain's face glowed like a firebrand, and his eyes sparkled with
wrath, as he loudly exclaimed, "What difference does it make to you, you
ungrateful cur, whether the account is true or false, so long as you get
your money? Bring none of your squeamish objections here. Either take
the account as I have made it out, and swear to it, without flinching,
or"--and here he swore an oath too revolting to transcribe "not a cent
of money shall you receive."

He stepped ashore, and walked with rapid strides up the wharf. I went
forward, and seating myself on the windlass, burst into tears!

It struck me as hard and unjust that I should be deprived of my
well-earned wages, unless on condition of committing an unworthy act,
at which my soul revolted. My decision, however, was taken. Although
the loss of my money would have subjected me to inconvenience perhaps
distress I resolved to submit to any ills which poverty might inflict,
rather than comply with the wishes and advice of this unprincipled man,
who should have acted towards me as a faithful monitor and guide.

I remained in this disconsolate condition for about an hour, when
Captain Turner returned on board. As he stepped leisurely over the
gangway, he greeted me with a benignant smile, and beckoned me to the
quarter deck.

"Well, Hawser," said he in his blandest manner, as if he sought to atone
for his coarse language and dishonorable conduct a short time before,
"so you refuse to do as others do take a false oath? You are too
sanctimonious by half, and you will find it out some day. You are an
obstinate little fool, but may do as you like. Here is another paper;
look over it, and see if it will suit you."

I opened the paper; it was a true statement of my claim against the
government for wages. In the course of the day, the ship's company
proceeded in a body to the office of the government agent, swore to our
several accounts, and received our money.

The amount which fell to my share was not large. I purchased some
clothes, paid a few trifling debts that I had contracted while subjected
to the "law's delay," which Shakespeare, a keen observer of men and
manners, classes among the most grievous of human ills, and had a few
dollars left.

After my experience of a sailor's life, after the treatment I had
received, the miserable fare on which I had barely existed during a
portion of the time, and the disgusting specimen of nautical morality I
had met with in Captain Turner, it will not be considered surprising
if my views of a sailor's life had been a little changed during my last
voyage. I entertained some doubts whether "going to sea," instead of
being all poetry and romance, was not rather a PROSY affair, after all;
and I more than once asked myself if a young man, of correct deportment
and industrious habits, who could find some good and respectable
business on shore, would not be a consummate fool to "go to sea." I
deliberated anxiously on the subject, and finally determined to return
to my home in New Hampshire, and visit my friends before I undertook
another voyage.

The schooner Lydia, of Barnstable, commanded by Captain Burgess, an
honest, noble-hearted son of Cape Cod, was the only vessel in Savannah
at that time bound for Boston. I explained to him my situation, told him
I was anxious to get home, and 

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