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!
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 asked as a favor that he would allow me to work my passage to Boston.
He replied that he had a full crew for his vessel, even more hands than could be properly accommodated below, as the cabin and steerage were both encumbered with bales of cotton. But if I was willing to sleep on deck, and assist in working ship and doing other duty, he would cheerfully give me a passage. I accepted his offer on these conditions, and thanked him into the bargain.
We left Savannah on our way to Boston. My heart beat quicker at the idea of returning home. The wind proved light and baffling on the passage, and as we drew towards the north, the weather was foggy with drizzling rains. My quarters on deck, under the lee of a bale of cotton, were any thing but comfortable. I often awoke when the watch was called, shivering with cold, and found it difficult, without an unusual quantity of exercise, to recover a tolerable degree of warmth.
I uttered no complaints, but bore this continual exposure, night and day, and other inconveniences, with a philosophical spirit, conceiving them to be a part of the compact. If the passage had only been of moderate length, I should, in all likelihood, have reached Boston in good health; but nineteen days had passed away when we sailed through the Vineyard Sound, and anchored in the harbor of Hyannis, on the third of July, 1810.
Some days before we reached Hyannis, I found myself gradually losing strength. I was visited with occasional fits of shivering, succeeded by fever heats. But on the morning of the glorious Fourth, I felt my whole system renovated at the idea of celebrating "Independence Day" on shore. The captain and mate of the Lydia both belonged to Barnstable, where their families resided. They both left the schooner for their homes as soon as the anchor reached the bottom, boldly predicting head winds or calms for at least thirty-six hours, at the end of which time they calculated to rejoin the schooner.
On the morning of the fourth, the crew, to a man, followed the example of our trustworthy officers, and determined to have a jovial time on shore. We left the good schooner Lydia soberly riding at anchor, to take care of herself. There were several other vessels in the harbor, all of which were deserted in the same manner. Not a living animal was to be found in the whole fleet. After passing weeks at sea, the temptation to tread the firm earth, and participate in a Fourth of July frolic, was too strong to be resisted.
Hyannis was then quite a humble village with a profusion of salt works. Farm houses were thinly scattered around, and comfort seemed inscribed on every dwelling. There seemed to be an abundance of people moving about on that day; where they came from was a problem I could not solve. Every one seemed pleased and happy, and, with commendable patriotism, resolved to enjoy Independence Day. The young men were neatly apparelled, and bent on having a joyous time; and the girls Cape Cod girls, ever renowned for beauty and worth gayly decked out with smiles, and dimples, and ribbons, ready for a Fourth of July frolic, dazzled the eyes of the beholders, and threw a magic charm over the scene.
And a frolic they had; fiddling, dancing, fun, and patriotism was the order of the day. In the evening, however, the entertainments were varied by the delivery of a sermon and other religious exercises in the school-house by a young Baptist clergyman, who subsequently became well known for his praiseworthy and successful efforts to reduce the rates on postage in the United States. This good man accomplished the great work of his life and died. A simple monument is erected to his memory at Mount Auburn, with no more than these words of inscription:
Hardly a person visits that consecrated ground who has not reaped enjoyment from the labors of that man's life. And as the simple epitaph meets the eye, and is read in an audible tone, the heart-felt invocation, "Blessings on his memory!" is his oft-repeated elegy.
It was about nine o'clock in the evening when the crew returned to the schooner. After we gained the deck I was seized with an unpleasant sensation. A sudden chill seemed to congeal the blood in my veins; my teeth chattered, and my frame shook with alarming violence. After the lapse of about thirty minutes the chills gave place to an attack of fever, which, in an hour or two, also disappeared, leaving me in a weak and wretched condition. This proved to be a case of intermittent fever, or FEVER AND AGUE, a distressing malady, but little known in New England in modern times, although by no means a stranger to the early settlers. It was fastened upon me with a rough and tenacious grasp, by the damp, foggy, chilly atmosphere in which I had constantly lived for the last fortnight.
Next morning, in good season, the captain and mate were on board. The wind was fair, and we got under weigh doubled Cape Cod, and arrived alongside the T Wharf in Boston, after a tedious and uncomfortable passage of twenty-two days from Savannah.
I left my home a healthy-looking boy, with buoyant spirits, a bright eye, and features beaming with hope. A year had passed, and I stood on the wharf in Boston, a slender stripling, with a pale and sallow complexion, a frame attenuated by disease, and a spirit oppressed by disappointment. The same day I deposited my chest in a packet bound to Portsmouth, tied up a few trifling articles in a handkerchief, shook hands with the worthy Captain Burgess, his mate and kind-hearted crew, and with fifteen silver dollars in my pocket, wended my way to the stage tavern in Ann Street, and made arrangements for a speedy journey to my home in Rockingham County, New Hampshire.
It seemed to be generally conceded that I had got enough of the sea; that after the discomforts I had experienced, and the unpleasant and revolting scenes I had witnessed, I should manifest folly in trying another voyage. My friends took it for granted that in my eyes a ship had lost all her attractions, and that I would henceforth eschew salt water as zealously and devoutly as a thrice-holy monk is wont to eschew the vanities of the world.
Indeed, for a time I reluctantly acknowledged that I had seen enough of a sailor's life; that on trial it did not realize my expectations; that if not a decided humbug, it was amazingly like one. With my health the buoyancy of my spirits departed. Hope and ambition no longer urged me with irresistible power to go forth and visit foreign lands, and traverse unknown seas like a knight errant of old in quest of adventures. While shivering with ague, and thinking of my wretched fare on board the schooner John, and my uncomfortable lodgings during the passage from Savannah, I listened, with patience at least, to the suggestions of my friends about a change of occupation. Arrangements were accordingly made by which I was to bid adieu to the seas forever.
It cost me something to abandon a vocation to which I had looked for years as the stepping-stone to success in life; and as my health and spirits returned, I began to doubt whether I was acting wisely; but having embarked in a new pursuit, I determined to go ahead, and to this determination I unflinchingly adhered, for at least THREE MONTHS, when I fell in with a distant relation, Captain Nathaniel Page, of Salem, who was about proceeding on a voyage to the Brazils. After expressing surprise at my course in abandoning the sea, he more than hinted that if I wished a situation before the mast with him, it was at my service.
This was applying the linstock to the priming with a vengeance. My good resolutions vanished like a wreath of vapor before a westerly gale. Those longings which I had endeavored to stifle, returned with more than their original force. In fancy's eye, I saw a marlinspike where Macbeth saw the dagger, and snuffed the fragrance of a tar-bucket in every breeze.
At the expiration of three days after my interview with Captain Page, I took the stage coach and proceeded to Salem. The brig Clarissa was then preparing to take in cargo for Maranham and Para, ports on the north coast of Brazil, which had just been thrown open to American commerce. The Clarissa was a good-looking, substantial vessel, of about two hundred tons burden, belonging to Jere. L. Page, Abel Peirso, and others, and had recently returned from a successful voyage to Calcutta.
The sight of the brig, and the flurry about the wharves, where several Indiamen were discharging cargoes or making ready for sea, confirmed me in my resolution to try the ocean once more. Indeed I began to be heartily ashamed of having seriously entertained the idea of quietly settling down among "the land-lubbers on shore," and felt that the sooner I retrieved my error the better.
Filled with this idea, I sought Captain Page, and without further consideration, and without daring to consult my friends in New Hampshire, lest they should overwhelm me with remonstrances, I engaged to go in the Clarissa as one of the crew before the mast.
I returned home with all speed, gathered together my few sea-going garments and nautical instruments, again bade adieu to my relations, who gravely shook their heads in doubt of the wisdom of my conduct, and elated by visions of fairy castles in the distance, hastened to join the brig, which was destined to bear Caesar and his fortunes.
This may have been the wisest step I could have taken. It is not likely I should have been long reconciled to any other occupation than that of a mariner. When a boy's fixed inclinations in the choice of an occupation are thwarted, he is seldom successful in life. His genius, if he has any, will be cramped, stunted, by an attempt to bend it in the wrong direction, and will seldom afterwards expand. But when a person, while attending to the duties of his profession or occupation, whether literary, scientific, or manual, can gratify his inclinations, and thus find pleasure in his business, he will be certain of success.
It was at the close of January, 1811, that the brig Clarissa was cast loose from Derby's Wharf in Salem, and with a gentle south-west breeze, sailed down the harbor, passed Baker's Island, and entered on the broad Atlantic. Our cargo was of a miscellaneous description, consisting of flour and salt provisions, furniture, articles of American manufacture, and large assortment of India cottons, which were at that time in general use throughout the habitable parts of the globe.
The Clarissa was a good vessel, and well found in almost every respect; but like most of the vessels in those days, had wretched accommodations for the crew. The forecastle was small, with no means of ventilation or admission of the light of day, excepting by the fore-scuttle. In this contracted space an equilateral triangle, with sides of some twelve or fifteen feet, which was expected to furnish comfortable accommodations for six individuals, including a very dark-complexioned African, who filled the respectable and responsible office of cook were stowed six large chests and other baggage belonging to the sailors; also two water-hogsheads, and several coils of rigging.
The deck leaked badly, in heavy weather, around the bowsprit-bitts, flooding the forecastle at every plunge; and when it is considered that each inmate of the forecastle, except myself, was an inveterate chewer of Indian weed, it may be imagined that this forecastle was about as uncomfortable a lodging place, in sinter's cold or summer's heat, as a civilized being could well desire. It undoubtedly possessed advantages over the "Black Hole of Calcutta," but an Esquimaux hut, an Indian wigwam, or a Russian cabin, was a palace in comparison. And this was a type of the forecastles of those days.
After getting clear of the land the wind died away; and soon after came from the eastward, and was the commencement of a snow storm which lasted twelve hours, when it backed into the north-west, and the foresail was set with the view of scudding before the wind. It soon blew a heavy gale; the thermometer fell nearly to zero; ice gathered in large quantities on our bowsprit, bows, and rigging, and the brig labored and plunged fearfully in the irregular cross sea when urged through the water by the blustering gale.
To save the vessel from foundering, it became necessary to lay her to under a close-reefed main-topsail. It was about half past eleven o'clock at night, when all hands were called for that purpose. Unfortunately my feet were not well protected from the inclemency of the weather, and became thoroughly wet before I had been five minutes on deck. We had difficulty in handling the foresail, in consequence of the violence of the wind and the benumbing effect of the weather, and remained a long time on the yard. When I reached the deck, my stockings were frozen to my feet, and I suffered exceedingly from the cold.
It was now my "trick at the helm,": for notwithstanding we were lying to, it was considered necessary for some one to remain near the tiller, watch the compass, and be in readiness for any emergency. I stamped my feet occasionally, with a view to keep them from freezing, and thought I had succeeded; and when at four o'clock I went below and turned into my berth, they felt comfortable enough, and I fell into a deep sleep, from which I was awakened by burning pains in my feet and fingers. My sufferings were intolerable, and I cried out lustily in my agony, and was answered from another part of the forecastle, where one of my watchmates, a youth but little older than myself, was extended, also suffering from frozen feet and hands.
Our united complaints, which by no means resembled a concert of sweet sounds, aroused from his slumbers our remaining watchmate, Newhall, an experienced tar, who cared little for weather of any description, provided he was not stinted in his regular proportion of sleep. In a surly mood he inquired what was the trouble. On being told, he remarked with a vein of philosophy and a force of logic which precluded all argument, that if our feet were frozen, crying and groaning would do US no good, while it would annoy him and prevent his sleeping; therefore we had better "grin and bear it" like men until eight bells, when we might stand a chance to get some assistance. He moreover told us that he would not put up with such a disturbance in the forecastle; it was against al rules; and if we did not clap a stopper on our cries and groans, he would turn out and give us something worth crying for he would pummel us both without mercy!
Thus cautioned by our compassionate shipmate, we endeavored to restrain ourselves from giving utterance to our feelings until the expiration of the watch.
When the watch was called our wailings were loud and clamorous. Our sufferings awakened the sympathy of the officers; our condition was inquired into, and assistance furnished. Both my feet were badly frost-bitten, and inflamed and swollen. Collins, my watchmate, had not escaped unscathed from the attack of this furious northwester, but being provided with a pair of stout boots, his injuries were much less than mine. In a few days he was about the deck as active as ever.
The result of my conflict with the elements on "the winter's coast" was of a serious and painful character; and for a time there was reason to fear that amputation of a portion of one, if not both feet might be necessary. Captain Page treated me with kindness, and was unremitting in his surgical attentions; and by dint of great care, a free application of emollients, and copious quantities of "British oil," since known at different times as "Seneca oil," or "Petroleum," a partial cure was gradually effected; but several weeks passed away ere I was able to go aloft, and a free circulation of the blood has never been restored.
A few days after this furious gale, we found ourselves in warm weather, having entered the edge of the Gulf Stream. We proceeded in a south-east direction, crossing the trade winds on our way to the equinoctial line. Were it not for the monotony, which always fatigues, there would be few undertakings more interesting than a sail through the latitudes of "the trades," where we meet with a balmy atmosphere, gentle breezes, and smooth seas. In the night the heavens are often unclouded, the constellations seem more interesting, the stars shine with a milder radiance, and the moon gives a purer light, than in a more northern region. Often in my passage through the tropics, during the night-watches, seated on a spare topmast, or the windlass, or the heel of the bowsprit, I have, for hours at a time, indulged my taste for reading and study by the light of the moon.
Fish of many kinds are met with in those seas; and the attempt to capture them furnishes a pleasant excitement; and if the attempt is successful, an agreeable variety is added to the ordinary fare on shipboard. The dolphin is the fish most frequently seen, and is the most easily caught of these finny visitors. He is one of the most beautiful of the inhabitants of the deep, and presents a singularly striking and captivating appearance, as, clad in gorgeous array, he moves gracefully through the water. He usually swims near the surface, and when in pursuit of a flying-fish shoots along with inconceivable velocity.
The dolphin, when properly cooked, although rather dry, is nevertheless excellent eating; and as good fish is a welcome commodity at sea, the capture of a dolphin is not only an exciting but an important event. When the word is given forth that "there's a dolphin alongside," the whole ship's company are on the alert. Business, unless of the last importance, is suspended, and the implements required for the death or captivity of the unsuspecting stranger are eagerly sought for. The men look resolved, ready to render any assistance, and watch the proceedings with an eager eye; and the wonted grin on the features of the delighted cook, in anticipation of an opportunity to display his culinary skill, assumes a broader character.
The captain or the mate takes his station in some convenient part of the vessel, on the bow or on the quarter, or beneath the bowsprit on the martingale stay. By throwing overboard a bright spoon, or a tin vessel, to which a line is attached, and towing it on the top of the water, the dolphin, attracted by its glittering appearance, and instigated by curiosity, moves quickly towards the deceiving object, unconscious that his artful enemy, man, armed with a deadly weapon, a sort of five-pronged harpoon, called a GRANES, is standing over him, with uplifted arm, ready to give the fatal blow.
The fish is transferred from his native element to the deck; the granes is disengaged from the quivering muscles, and again passed to the officer, who, it may be, soon adds another to the killed. It is sometimes the case that half a dozen dolphin are captured in this way in a few minutes. A hook and line over the stern, with a flying-fish for bait, will often prove a successful means of capturing the beautiful inhabitants of the deep.
The dolphin is a fine-looking fish. Its shape is symmetry itself, and has furnished a valuable hint for the model of fast-sailing vessels. It is usually from two to three feet in length, and is sometimes met with of nearly twice that size, and weighing seventy-five or a hundred pounds. One of the properties for which the dolphin is celebrated is that of changing its color when dying. By many this is considered fabulous; but it is strictly true. After the fish is captured, and while struggling in the scuppers, the changes constantly taking place in its color are truly remarkable. The hues which predominate are blue, green, and yellow, with their various combinations: but when the fish is dead, the beauty of its external appearance, caused by the brilliancy of its hues, no longer exists. Falconer, the sailor poet, in his interesting poem of "The Shipwreck," thus describes this singular phenomenon: