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.