The moon had risen, and lighted up the bay, so that objects could be distinctly seen at a considerable distance. And soon after midnight, twelve boats, carrying nearly four hundred men, and armed with carronades, swivels, and blunderbusses, as well as muskets, pistols, and cutlasses, left the squadron and pulled directly for the privateer. The crisis was at hand, and although the brave commander of the privateer knew that his vessel must eventually fall into the hands of his unscrupulous enemy, he determined to defend her to the last.

A fierce and desperate engagement ensued. As soon as the boats came within range, they were greeted with the contents of "long Tom;" and the nine pounders also faithfully performed their work. The guns were served with almost incredible skill and activity, and aimed with the nicest precision. The fire was returned by the boats, although it was evident that some of them suffered severely from the effects of the first broadside. Others, however, dashed alongside, with the expectation of carrying the privateer by boarding; but here, again, they were disappointed. Pistols and muskets flashed from every porthole, and boarding-pikes and cutlasses, wielded by strong hands, presented a CHEVAUX-DE-FRISE which the enemy could not overleap. The carnage was terrible; the contest lasted over half an hour, and resulted in the total defeat of the British, who, with bull-dog ferocity and obstinacy, although foiled in their desperate effort to take the privateer, were unwilling to abandon the enterprise, and were shot and hewn down by scores. Only three of the officers escaped; several of the boats were destroyed, and two of them, after the action, were found alongside the brig, literally filled with the dead and dying!

The boats which survived the conflict, crushed and discomfited, pulled slowly back to their ships, bearing with them many of the wounded. Of the four hundred who left the ships an hour and a half before, full of health, high in spirits, and eager for the battle, hardly one hundred and fifty returned unharmed.

The attack on the boats by Captain Reid and his brave men was so sudden and overwhelming, that the enemy, notwithstanding the convulsive efforts of a few, seemed incapable of making any effective resistance. Instead of being the attacking party, their efforts were mainly confined to ineffectual attempts to defend themselves. Thus, on the part of the Americans, the loss in the two engagements was only two killed and seven wounded. One of those who fell was Mr. Williams, of New York, the second lieutenant. The first and third lieutenants were among the wounded. Thus, early in the action Captain Reid was deprived of the services of his most efficient officers, but he was equal to the emergency, and his cool and intrepid conduct secured the victory.

On the following morning, soon after daybreak, the Carnation gun-brig was hauled in within point blank gun-shot, and opened a fire on the General Armstrong; but the gallant commander of the privateer, being determined to submit to no other than a superior force, returned the fire with his long twenty-four pounder so effectually, boring the brig through and through at every shot, that she was soon glad to haul off to avoid being sunk at her anchors. Preparations were now making to bring in the frigate; and aware that to prolong the contest would be worse than useless, Captain Reid ordered the brig's masts to be cut away, a hole blown through her bottom, and with all his men, trunks, chests, and baggage, took to his boats and safely reached the shore. They had not been landed fifteen minutes when the dismasted sinking vessel was boarded by the British boats without resistance, and immediately set on fire. Such was the fate of the General Armstrong privateer!

It is perhaps not strange that, before my shipmates and myself had been a week at the boarding house, around whose attractive sign clustered such patriotic associations, Downes, the boatswain of the Casket, and Jones both became acclimated to the noxious atmosphere redolent of alcohol and other disgusting compounds, succumbed to the temptations by which they were surrounded, and drank as much grog, were as noisy and unruly, and as ready for a quarrel as any dissolute old Irishman in the whole circle of Jim Hubbards' household. Indeed the boatswain, a young fellow possessed of many excellent qualities, and who had made a resolution to reform some bad habits in which he had indulged, got drunk before he had been three days an inmate of the establishment, quarrelled with an English sailor, fought with him, was severely whipped and furnished with a couple of magnificent black eyes. So true is the sentiment, beautifully expressed in the language of the poet,

"Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As to be hated needs but to be seen; But seen too oft, familiar with the face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace."

The generality of Jim Hubbard's boarders were what may be technically termed "a hard set." Among them were many foreigners, who seemed to have been the off-scourings of their native countries, and whose manners and morals had not been improved by the peculiar discipline and lessons in ethics they had become familiar with on board English men-of-war or Patriot privateers. In truth they were a band of roistering blades, and by day and by night, when not dead drunk, were restless, noisy, vociferous, and terribly profane. Flush with their money, and acting from generous impulses, they would urge a stranger to drink with them in good fellowship, and if the invitation was declined, were equally ready to knock him down or kick him into the street, as unworthy the society of good fellows.

Whole crews came to the house, from long voyages, with pockets overflowing with cash. They were received with smiles of welcome by Hubbard, and the treasures of his bar were placed before them. At the proper time they were told by their obliging landlord that it was a praiseworthy custom among new comers to "treat all hands." Then commenced a course of unrestrained dissipation, which was not interrupted so long as their money held out. They became uproarious, and took a strange pleasure in enacting scenes, which should never be witnessed out of Bedlam. But as their money diminished their landlord gave them the cold shoulder; their love of frolic and fighting was sensibly lessened, and their spirits at last fell to zero on being told by their sympathizing host, who kept a careful watch over their finances, and kindly aided them in spending their money by making fictitious charges, and exacting double prices for what they actually had, that THEIR CASH WAS ALL GONE; that it was not his custom to give credit, and the sooner they found a ship, and cleared out, the better.

Such, I am sorry to say, was the character of most of the sailor landlords in "days lang syne." And notwithstanding the efforts which have since been made to elevate the condition of the sailor, and provide him with a comfortable house on shore, I greatly fear the race is not extinct; and that Jack, even in these days, often becomes the prey of one of these crafty, plausible, smiling, unprincipled scoundrels, who hands him a bottle of rum with one hand and picks his pocket with the other; who, under the guise of friendship, bears towards the sailor the same kind of affection he is prepared to expect from the man-eating shark which is seen prowling round a ship. If he falls into the clutches of either, he is sure to be taken in and done for.

But among Jim Hubbard's boarders, there were a very few of a different character from those I have described; some who kept sober, and had a due regard to the rules of propriety. These, sometimes, sought to restore order out of chaos, but soon abandoned the attempt as a bootless task, and bowed submissively to the storm whose force they could not arrest. Among these was a young man named Catlin. He was rather below than above the medium size, but had a broad chest and a muscular frame. He was evidently a thorough sailor; his countenance was open and intelligent; he was quiet and unobtrusive in his manners, and often seemed disgusted with the unruly conduct of the major part of the boarders, some of whom had been shipmates with him in a former voyage. Catlin was troubled with an impediment in his speech, and it was doubtless owing to this, as well as to his sober habits, that his voice was seldom heard amid the vocal din which shook the walls of the General Armstrong.

One morning a large ship arrived in Savannah from Boston, with a choice crew, consisting of the boatswain and ten fine-looking, athletic young men. After the ship was made fast at the wharf, and the decks cleared up, the crew received permission to go ashore; and, neatly rigged and headed by the boatswain, a splendid looking, symmetrically built native of Connecticut, who stood six feet two inches in his stockings, and wore a feather in his hat like a Highland chieftain, they paraded through several of the streets of Savannah, singing, laughing, and cheering, bent on a regular frolic. They occasionally stopped at hospitable houses, where "for a consideration" they could be accommodated with liquor to assuage thirst and enliven their already lively spirits.

It was about nine o'clock in the evening when this jovial crew came to Jim Hubbard's boarding house, entered the public room, and called for something to drink. Some of these men were disposed to be quarrelsome, and were insolent to the landlord; clearly wishing to provoke a fight; and a considerable number of the boarders instantly threw off their jackets, ready to take the part of their host. The parties being nearly equal, there was a very distinct prospect of a neat little row, or a regular pounding match.

Just as the parties were coming to blows the boatswain interposed, requesting his shipmates to keep quiet and close their clamshells; and then in an arrogant and defiant tone, stretching himself to his full height, he exclaimed, "If there is any fighting to be done here, I am the man to do it." And, with a dash of that spirit of chivalry which animated the Paladins of old, he added, "I challenge any man in the house to step into the street, and face me in a regular boxing match."

His large stature, big whiskers, insolent tone, and menacing gestures were calculated to inspire awe, and those who had shown themselves most eager to take part in the MELEE, shrank instinctively from the idea of meeting this son of Anak in single combat. But Catlin, the meek-looking, quiet, inoffensive, stuttering Catlin, who had been an attentive looker-on without evincing any disposition to take part in the proceedings no sooner heard the challenge, so vain-gloriously given, than he bounded from his seat in a corner of the room, and stood before the doughty champion.

"I ca-ca-ca-nt stand th-th-at," said Catlin, his eyes flashing with indignation. "I am your m-m-man!"

The affair became interesting. A ring was immediately formed in front of the boarding house, into which the champions of the respective parties, denuded of all unnecessary covering, and each attended by his second, entered. The crew of the ship, the boarders of the General Armstrong, and the inmates of various boarding houses in the vicinity, formed quite a numerous body of spectators. The combatants very properly dispensed with the absurd custom of shaking hands before they came to blows. After glowering at each other for a moment, they went vigorously to work. The boatswain seemed determined to demolish his puny antagonist at once by some well-directed blows, and might possibly have succeeded if the blows had taken effect. But Catlin parried or avoided them with surprising skill and agility, until the boatswain losing patience, grasped his antagonist in his sinewy arms, and after a brief struggle, Catlin was thorn heavily upon his back.

He rose from the earth, like a second Antaeus, with renewed vigor, and when the boatswain attempted to repeat the operation, Catlin dealt him a blow in the body which fairly lifted him from his feet, and, doubling him up, dropped him motionless on the ground.

By the aid of his second, the boatswain was soon again on his feet. The fight was renewed, and continued with but little cessation for fifteen or twenty minutes, during which time Catlin had been twice thrown, but had received no visible injury; and the boatswain's features had been knocked out of all shape, and he had been several times felled to the earth by the terrible blows given by his antagonist. His endurance was wonderful; he submitted to his pounding like a hero, but he was rapidly losing strength; was evidently suffering much from pain, and another round would probably have finished the fierce contest, crowned Catlin with the victor's wreath, and led to a general tumult and row, when some new actors entered on the scene and changed the order of the performances.

These actors appeared in the guise of a squad of police officers, the city patrol, who had received intelligence of the row. They broke through the ring, without regard to ceremony, and made a dash at the men who were striving so hard to maul one another. The boatswain unable to resist or flee, was easily captured, and also his second. But Catlin, having heard the cry of "the watch! the watch!" as these vigilant preservers of the public peace broke through the ring, gave his antagonist a parting blow which he long remembered, forced his way through or leaped over the dense throng which obstructed his progress, and with the speed of a race horse rushed into the house, and almost before the officers of the law were aware of his escape, he had donned his garments, and without a scratch on his person, mingled unsuspected with the throng of spectators. The boatswain, notwithstanding the woeful plight he was in, for he was dreadfully punished, was marched off to the guard house, accompanied by his faithful second, and on the following day was mulcted in an exemplary fine for disturbing the peace.

The most singular battle between two-legged brutes that I ever beheld, was fought one day between two stout negroes in the neighborhood of my boarding house in Savannah. They had cherished a grudge against each other for some time, and accidentally meeting, a war of words ensued, which attracted a crowd of spectators, who kindly used all possible efforts to induce them to break the peace, in which charitable enterprise they finally succeeded.

Much to my surprise, and greatly to the amusement of the bystanders, the darkies made no use of their fists, neither did they grasp each other by the waist, or resort to the worse than savage practice of gouging. They retreated from the spot where they had been standing, until the space between them would measure some ten or twelve paces, a good duelling distance, and then instead of throwing tomahawks or javelins at each other's heads, or discharging bullets of lead from the mouths of pistols or blunderbusses, they bowed down their heads, as if overcome with humility, and rushed at each other with inconceivable fury.

Like knights of ancient days, they met half way in the lists; but instead of shivering their spears right manfully, their heads came in contact, like a collision between two locomotives, making a noise like a clap of thunder. As they rose from the ground from which they were both thrown by the violence of the shock, fire seemed actually to flash from their eyes, and they shook their heads from shoulder to shoulder for several seconds, apparently to know if all was right within.

The result being satisfactory, they retreated a short distance, not so far as at first, and again tried the terrible experiment of seeing which head was the hardest. After giving several of these practical illustrations of the noble art of butting, in a fashion that would have cracked, crushed and demolished the thickest craniums belonging to the Caucasian family, but which seemed to produce little effect on these hard-headed sons of sires born on the banks of the Niger, one of the belligerent parties watched an opportunity when his opponent was off his guard, dexterously evaded the favor intended for him, and drove his own head with tremendous force against the bosom of his antagonist.

This of course finished the engagement, for the poor fellow was thrown backwards with violence to the ground, where he remained for some time senseless, while the grinning victor received the congratulations of his friends.



Chapter XXXV. VOYAGE TO GOTTENBURG

I passed nearly three weeks in Savannah at Jim Hubbard's boarding house, mingling freely with the different characters who frequented that establishment, making my observations on men and things; and if at times I felt humiliated and uncomfortable, I solaced myself by the reflection that my sojourn in that place would be brief, and in the mean time would open to my inspection a new chapter in the book of life; and being constitutionally of a hopeful disposition, and seldom troubled with despondency, instead of suffering my thoughts to dwell on present perplexities, I looked forward to more prosperous scenes and happier times.

At length I found an opportunity to quit Savannah, of which I shall ever retain a vivid recollection, by shipping before the mast in a good wholesome-looking brig, known as the Joseph, of Boston, and bound to Gottenburg, with a cargo of tobacco.

The name of the brig was not a very attractive one, but I had learned long before that the names of merchant vessels, being bestowed according to the taste, fancy, or whim of the owner, should never be regarded as indicative of character, any more than the names of individuals. The first vessel I sailed in, although named after the most beautiful and swift fish that swims the ocean, the dolphin, was one of the ugliest and dullest sailing crafts that ever floated on salt water.

Some ship-owners have a great partiality to animals; hence we find noble ships bearing the names of creatures of every description, from the most ferocious beast to the most unsightly reptile. Other ships carry on their sterns the names of heroes and heroines, gods and goddesses; satyrs, nymphs, civilians, poets, artists, statesmen, and demagogues; of kings, warriors, buccaneers, philanthropists, and brigands. It is thus we count among our ships a Hercules and a Joan of Arc; with Apollos, Minervas, Canovas, Hogarths, John Howards, and Robin Hoods, with a dense sprinkling of Mammoths and Mosquitoes, Tigers and Humming Birds, Whales and Butterflies, Nondescripts, Demons, volcanoes and Icebergs.

Some names of ships are ingenious and quaint, others commonplace or ridiculous; some are expressed in a phrase consisting of a few words, others in a word of one syllable, and sometimes of one letter. Thus we have the INO, and the GUESS; awkward names to repeat when asked, "What is the name of that ship?" and the "Catch me if you can," and the "What d'ye think 'tis like?" which, by their respective godfathers, are thought to be extremely witty. Thus, we have the "Ay, ay, sir," the "Tom," the "A No. 1," the "Tallyho," and the "W."

During the last war with Great Britain two privateers were built by the same individuals, and were intended to cruise in company; they were called the "United we stand," and the "Divided we fall." A number of years since, three large and elegant ships constituted a line of English packets between Liverpool and Charleston, in South Carolina. They were, with commendable taste, named after three celebrated poems by three distinguished British poets, the "Lalla Rookh," the "Corsair," and "Marmion." An opulent merchant in Rhode Island, having been repeatedly disappointed in his wish to have a male descendant, although he was the father of half a dozen cherry-cheeked GIRLS, gave the name of "Boy" to a ship of his, which was launched a few weeks after the birth of his youngest daughter. This ship was a fortunate one, and a great favorite of the owner, but never arrived at man's estate, continuing "a boy" to the end of the chapter.

Some ship-owners give to their vessels names of individuals distinguished for talent or worth, or who have served their country nobly by sea or by land. Some bestow on their ships those names that are dearest to them; those of their sweethearts, their wives, their children, brethren, sisters, or friends, as the case may be. Thus we have the "Three sons," "Ten Brothers," "Four Sisters," "Sally Anne," "Aunt Hitty," and "Huldah and Judy;" and thus we may account for the euphonious name of a vessel, once belonging to Windsor, in Virginia, the "Jonathan Jacocks."

Some years ago two Boston merchants were engaged in building a ship for the freighting business. When finished, there was a difference of opinion in regard to the selection of a name. One proposed the name of a distinguished southern statesman, Mr. Poinsett; the other, an old shipmaster, remonstrated against giving the ship the name of any living person; and he carried his point. "The man you mention," said he, with energy and emphasis, "is a good fellow enough now; but before two years, he may change his politics, or do some other shabby act that will stamp his name with infamy. And then how foolish we shall look when hailing our ship. No! Never while you live, call your ship, or your child, after any living great man; but take the name of some one whose excellence is vouched for by a tombstone."

A line of packet ships was projected, and in part established some thirty-five years ago, between Boston and Liverpool, by some public-spirited merchants. The project, however, after a time was abandoned. Three new and beautiful ships were built for this enterprise, and plied regularly between the two ports; they were named the Emerald, the Topaz, and the Amethyst. If the undertaking had been successful, other ships would have been added with names of a similar stamp, as the Diamond, the Ruby, the Coral, or the Pearl.

The government of the United States has, for many years, adopted the plan of naming ships-of-the-line after the different states in the Union, the frigates after the rivers, and the sloops of war after the principal cities; thus we have the Vermont, Ohio, Pennsylvania, etc., the Brandywine, Raritan, Merrimac, etc., and the Jamestown, Portsmouth, Hartford, etc. As no more ships-of-the-line will probably be constructed, comparatively few of the states will receive the honor originally intended.

The introduction of large clipper built ships, within a few years, has been attended with a new and distinct class of names, some of which are of a decidedly poetical character, and fill the largest speaking trumpet to its utmost capacity; thus the ocean is traversed in every direction by "Winged Racers," "Flying Arrows," "Sparkling Seas," "Shooting Stars," "Foaming Waves," "White Squalls," "Sovereigns of the Seas," and "Thunder Showers;" and we may soon see launched the "Almighty Dollar."

The brig Joseph was commanded by Ezra Allen, a very worthy, well-meaning man, of moderate capacity, and an indifferent sailor. The mate, Mr. Bowen, was an energetic, down-east Yankee, with a drawl as long as the deep sea line, and almost as much twisted. He was one of those queer mortals, manufactured nowhere but in New England, who, restless, inquisitive, ingenious, and bold, can readily adapt themselves to any situation, and, under a very raw and green exterior, conceal an inexhaustible mine of practical good sense and available intelligence on almost every subject. Mr. Bowen, although deferential in his deportment towards the captain, and ever treating him with a good show of respect, was in reality master of the brig; his advice being solicited on the most trivial occasion, and every suggestion he made in relation to the management of the vessel was eagerly seized upon by the captain. Indeed, Bowen was a model of a mate; industrious, economical, and faithful, treating the crew with kindness and consideration, yet exacting their full quota of labor. No "bread of idleness" was consumed where he had the direction of affairs. Under his management there was perfect subordination, without the necessity of resorting to heavers and handspikes as a means of enforcing authority.

The second mate, Mr. Conners, was a little, weasel-faced man, of uncertain extraction, who had a great idea of his importance, and like other mates I have seen, bustled about the decks, as if to make up in noise and bustle deficiencies in merit; forgetting that a quiet, decided, straightforward manner is more effective in enforcing authority, and establishing discipline, than the roughest language breathed through iron lungs. We had but a brief opportunity to test his worth, for, on the second day after leaving port, Mr. Conners was attacked with illness, stricken down and confined to his state-room, where he lay, suffering much pain, and uttering moans of a character not unfamiliar to my ears. The chief mate came on deck while I was at the helm, and in answer to my inquiries, gave me the particulars of his illness.

"Mr. Bowen," said I, "that man has got the yellow fever, and it is a severe case. It will probably go hard with him."

"Do you think so, Hawser?" Said Mr. Bowen, slowly drawling out his words; "well, I don't know but you are more than half right. There have been some deaths from yellow fever in Savannah already this season, and who knows but" and turning to the captain, who at this moment came on deck, carelessly handling his toothpick, he exclaimed, "Captain Allen, Mr. Conners has got the yellow fever!"

The captain started back, aghast, at this terrible announcement. His face was as white as a sheet. "The yellow fever, Mr. Bowen! God forbid! What makes you think so?"

"Why," replied the mate, "the symptoms are precisely those of yellow fever; and you know there were some fatal cases among the shipping before we left Savannah."

"That's true, Mr. Bowen true as a book. Perhaps it IS the yellow fever. O Lord! The yellow fever on board the Joseph! What SHALL we do, Mr. Bowen? Had we not better put back? Who knows whose turn it may be next? The yellow fever! Why, this is dreadful!"

And the yellow fever it proved to be. The unfortunate man was seized with delirium in less than twelve hours after he was attacked, and died on the following day. The captain was terribly frightened, and was half disposed to make for the nearest port and resign command of the brig. But Mr. Bowen succeeded in calming his fears, and convince him, that by sprinkling the cabin and forecastle freely with vinegar, and burning brimstone, tobacco-leaves, and tar several hours in a day for several successive days, the infected atmosphere would be rendered pure and innoxious. The experiment was tried; and for more than a week the captain, to the great annoyance of the sailors, was every day busy in devising means of salutary fumigation, and carrying them into effect, or, in other words, trying to drive out one poison by introducing another a hundred times more offensive to our olfactories, and attended, if possible, with more unpleasant associations.

We pursued our course towards Gottenburg; steering nearly in the direction of the Gulf Stream, passing to the southward of the Bank of Newfoundland, and then standing away to the northward and eastward, with a view to pass north of Scotland and enter the Skager-rack through the broad passage which separates the Orkneys from the Shetland Islands. On the passage we fell in with the little islet, or huge rock, known as Rockal, which lies almost in mid-ocean, being about two hundred miles west of the coast of Scotland. This rock is only a few hundred feet in length, and rises abruptly to a height eighty or a hundred feet. It is craggy and precipitous, and is the resort of seals, and myriads of birds, as osprays, gulls, and gannets, which abound in that part of the ocean, and there, undisturbed by the presence of man, lay their eggs and rear their young. Rockal has the appearance, when first seen, of a large ship under sail, and is of a dark gray color, being covered in some parts, probably to the depth of many feet, with birdlime, or guano, the accumulation of ages. But as this rock is exposed to the peltings of the pitiless storms, which are frequent in this part of the world, and is subject to the extremes of heat and cold, it is possible that the rich beds of guano with which it is covered are not of the best quality; besides, as it can boast of no bay or nook in which a vessel, or even a boat, can ride in safety, but is exposed on every side to the constant succession of waves rolling onward eternally across the ocean, but not always in the same direction, forbidding the landing of any human being on its craggy sides, its treasures, however valuable, will probably remain undisturbed forever.

This restlessness of the ocean, creating an undulating surface, even during long-continued calms, excites the wonder of all who, never having been abroad upon the waters, imagine its surface is always smooth and unruffled unless disturbed by a gale of wind. This "tramp of the ocean waves" is beautifully described by Charles H. Brown, one of the "Bowdoin Poets":

"Roll on, old Ocean, dark and deep! For thee there is no rest. Those giant waves shall never sleep, That o'er thy billowy breast Tramp like the march of conquerors, Nor cease their choral hymn Till earth with fervent heat shall melt, And lamps of heaven grow dim."

The next land we fell in with was Fair Isle, which lies about half way between the Shetland and the Orkney Islands, being about twenty-five miles south of Sumburgh Head, the southern extremity of the principal of the Shetland Islands. Fair Isle, as is indeed the case with all these islands which are susceptible of cultivation, is inhabited by a rude and hardy race of beings; the men being engaged a large portion of the time in the ling and cod fishery, which is extensively carried on in this part of the world. Taking advantage of their locality in mid-channel, the boatmen from Fair Isle also board vessels which pass to an fro, going "north about," and exchange fish and a slender variety of vegetables for tobacco and rum; those articles, so unnecessary to happiness or comfort, being greedily coveted by the rude and semi-barbarous inhabitants of those regions, who also, be it said to their credit, will not object to receive a dozen of biscuit, a piece of beef or pork, or a goodly portion of any other palatable article of food.

We were boarded by two of these boats from Fair Isle, well filled with stalwart and sturdy beggars; and dealing with such a man as Captain Allen, good natured and wanting in decision and energy, their solicitations for favors almost took the shape of peremptory demands, and the brig was virtually laid under a heavy contribution. Some of the most bold and importunate visited the forecastle, and manifested such an inquisitive and rapacious spirit in their quest after tobacco, that we were provoked to treat them in a manner most inhospitable, and drive them on deck.

Proceeding across the head of the North Sea, and running for the "Naze of Norway," the weather being pleasant and the sea smooth, I persuaded Mr. Bowen to throw a fishing-line over the stern and let it trail, with the expectation of catching some mackerel. We succeeded in capturing several of those excellent fish, and also two or three gar-fish; a kind of fish I have never met with elsewhere excepting in the tropical seas. These gar-fish of the North Sea were of comparatively small size, about fifteen inches in length, but of most delicious flavor. Their long and slim backbone being of a deep emerald green color, Captain Allen, with characteristic sagacity, concluded that these fish were poisonous and unwholesome, and banished them from the cabin. They were heartily welcomed in the forecastle, however, their qualities fully tested, and the skipper was pronounced the most verdant of the two!

Passing the Naze, a high bluff point at the south-western extremity of Norway, and then losing sight of the rough, mountainous coast, intersected by innumerable arms of the sea, called FIORDS, penetrating inland for miles, we crossed the Skager-rack and entered the Cattegat Sea, which divides the western shores of Sweden from the coast of Jutland, and which is about a hundred miles in length and fifty miles in breadth. We soon got sight of Wingo Beacon, a high pyramidal monument, built on a rock at one of the entrances of the fiord on which the city of Gottenburg is situated, and procured a pilot, who took us through a narrow, winding channel among the rocks, into a snug haven surrounded by barren islets, and brought the brig to anchor.

Here we were obliged to remain until visited the next morning by the health officer; for the quarantine regulations of Sweden, although not so vexatious and absurd as in many other ports of Europe, were nevertheless very strict. A case of plague or yellow fever was never known in Gottenburg, or in any other port in Sweden, yet it was the universal belief among medical men that both diseases were contagious, and could be imported in ships from the Mediterranean and the West Indies. Therefore, an elaborate code of sanitary regulations was established, and precautions of the most useless, yet annoying character to persons engaged in commerce, were taken to prevent the introduction of diseases, which could not exist an hour in that northern climate.

The health officer, a grave and dignified personage, with a formidable posse, was rowed alongside the brig in an eight-oared barge. He asked the question, "Are you all well on board?"

"Yes."

The crew were summoned to the side of the vessel, and their phizzes critically examined by the doctor. We were then ordered up the rigging as high as the tops, to exhibit our activity, and prove that our muscles were in good working condition.

"Where is your roll of equipage?" asked the doctor.

This document, containing a list of the crew as shipped in Havana, and certified at the custom house, after having undergone an unpleasant process of purification, was passed to the health officer, by the aid of a pair of tongs with legs of extraordinary length.

On counting heads, and comparing the actual number of those who were anxiously looking over the gunwale with the list of the ship's company, that vigilant functionary shook his head. One of the number was missing! An explanation was demanded. Captain Allen was embarrassed. He trumped up a clumsy story about a bad cold, ill health of long standing, consumption, etc., but whispered not a syllable of yellow fever. He was a poor hand at deception; but he might as well have stated the whole truth, for as in all places abroad where strict quarantine laws are established, if one or more of the crew is missing, it matters not whether he died of accident or disease, the health officers take it for granted, and insist upon it in spite of evidence to the contrary, that he died of plague if the vessel is from the Mediterranean, or of yellow fever if from a southern American port or the West Indies.

Greatly to the mortification of Captain Allen, and to the loudly expressed dissatisfaction of the crew, the brig was ordered to remain TEN DAYS IN QUARANTINE.

Nor was this all the trouble and annoyance consequent on the deficiency in the "roll of equipage." Fumigations in the cabin and the forecastle, of a character stronger and more disagreeable than Captain Allen ever dreamed of, were carried on, under the direction of the pilot and a revenue officer, several times a day. They were attended with a most inodorous effluvia, and caused such a general concert of sneezing and coughing, by night as well as by day, that one would have thought influenza, in its most fearful shape and with giant power, had seized every man by the throat.



Chapter XXXVI. SANITARY LAWS—MUTINY AND MURDER

Laws for the preservation of the health of a community have been established among civilized nations in every age. And when these laws are based on reason and intelligence, they undoubtedly subserve a noble purpose. But the quarantine laws all over the world, with some rare exceptions, being the offspring of ignorance and terror, are not only the climax of absurdity, but act as an incubus on commerce, causing ruinous delays in mercantile operations, much distress, and unnecessary expense.

The PLAGUE was formerly universally regarded as a contagious disease, and to prevent the horrors which attend its introduction in large cities, the most stringent laws have been enacted for ages. But the contagiousness of the plague is now doubted by many enlightened physicians. Whether it be so or not, it never made its appearance in countries bordering on the North Sea or the Baltic, or on the American continent. Although many vessels every year, almost every month, arrive in our principal ports from the Levant, freighted with rags and other articles, constituting a medium through which this disease, if contagious, would surely be propagated, yet this dreadful scourge of cities, in ancient and modern times, has never been brought across the Atlantic.

The small pox is another disease against the introduction of which quarantine laws have been established. That it is contagious there is no question; but by the blessed discovery of vaccination, this disease, once so dreadful, is robbed of its horrors, and rendered as harmless as the measles or the whooping cough, insomuch that laws, formerly enacted in different states to protect the people from the dangers of the small pox have generally been repealed.

The Asiatic cholera, when it first made its appearance in Europe, was believed to be contagious. Quarantine laws, of the most stringent character, were adopted to prevent its introduction into seaports, and military CORDONS SANITAIRE were drawn around the frontiers of nations to shut it out of villages and towns, until it was ascertained to be an epidemic disease, the germs of which were in the atmosphere, and could no more be controlled than the winds which sweep the earth.

The YELLOW FEVER, however, has for many years been the most terrible bugbear, and to prevent its introduction into the seaports of Europe and the United States has been the chief end and aim of the absurd and ridiculous quarantine regulations to which I have referred. It has never been regarded as contagious by well-informed men in countries where it is most prevalent, and now, in spite of long-existing and deeply-stamped prejudices, it is generally admitted, by enlightened physicians, that the YELLOW FEVER IS NOT CONTAGIOUS. NOT A SINGLE WELL-ESTABLISHED FACT CAN BE ADDUCED TO SHOW THE CONTAGIOUS CHARACTER OF THE DISEASE, OR THAT IT CAN BE CONVEYED IN CARGOES OF ANY DESCRIPTION FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER.

Persons in good health may leave a port where yellow fever prevails, and carry within them the seeds of the disease, and on arriving at another port several days afterwards, or on the passage thither, may be attacked with the disease in its most appalling character, and die; BUT THE DISEASE IS NOT COMMUNICATED TO OTHERS. Indeed, the yellow fever is not so INFECTIOUS as the typhus or scarlet fever, which prevails every season in northern climes.

When the yellow fever broke out in New York, and caused much alarm, nearly forty years ago, the first cases occurred in the vicinity of Trinity Church, and until destroyed by a black frost, it spread gradually in every direction from this common centre, insomuch that the "infected district" was clearly defined and marked out from day to day. Persons, who had been in the "infected district," and left it for other parts of the country, were subsequently attacked by this disease hundreds of miles from New York, and died; but not a single instance occurred in which it was communicated to others. And so in the West Indies: the yellow fever sometimes rages fearfully in one city or town, while in another, on the same island, not a single case exists, although there is a daily and unobstructed intercourse between the two places. And whenever, owing to some mysterious agency, it makes its appearance, precautions to prevent its extension seem useless. It overleaps all barriers, and attacks with equal severity the inmates of a palace or a filthy hovel, the captain of a ship in a splendid cabin, surrounded with phials and pills, and Jack in the forecastle, redolent of tobacco, and destitute of ventilation.

The quarantine regulations in Boston formerly partook of the unreasonable and absurd character, which, to a greater or less extent, has marked these regulations in all maritime countries. Vessels arriving from certain ports where yellow fever was supposed to prevail, were not allowed to haul to a wharf and discharge cargo, or hold any direct personal communication with the city, until the expiration of twenty-five days after leaving port. Thus a vessel from the West Indies, having perishable commodities on board, might reach Boston in twelve days, the vessel and cargo in good condition, and every man stout and hearty. But it was supposed that yellow fever might lurk among the crew, or lie concealed among boxes of sugars or cigars, and, therefore, thirteen additional days were allowed to give it an opportunity to escape. At the expiration of that time, when the patience of the men, kept so long in durance vile without the shadow of a cause, in sight of their homes, was exhausted, and the perishable portion of the cargo in a most unwholesome state of decomposition, caused by the delay, the vessel was pronounced pure, in a fit condition to receive PRATIQUE, and allowed to haul alongside the wharf, receive visitors on board, and discharge cargo.

The reader, inexperienced in the mysteries of sanitary regulations, may smile at the absurdity of such proceedings, but the system of guarding the public against the horrors of the yellow fever, adopted by the health department of Boston, was in those days remarkably judicious and indulgent, when compared with the regulations in other cities, and which exist at the present time, not only on the other side of the Atlantic, but in this country. And, to the credit of Boston, and as an illustration of the intelligence of her citizens, it should be recorded that this seaport, the principal one in New England, WAS THE FIRST IN THE CIVILIZED WORLD TO EXPRESS AN OPINION THAT THE YELLOW FEVER WAS NOT CONTAGIOUS, and to repeal those ridiculous, useless, and burdensome "quarantine laws," which, originating in panic terror, have been instituted from time immemorial, to prevent the introduction of plague and yellow fever, and establish in their stead sanitary regulations, which are in accordance with the dictates of common sense.

Infectious diseases are sometimes caused by the foul air arising from a ship's hold, owing to the decomposition of vegetable substances in a hot climate, or to an accumulation of filth, without ventilation, when crowded with passengers. The malignant, pestilential disease, caused by inhaling this noxious atmosphere, often sweeps off portions of the crew and passengers; and those who visit a ship under such circumstances, and breathe the poisonous gases, even in a northern latitude, are liable to be attacked by this fatal disease. But the ordinary quarantine regulations will afford no protection in such a case. A few weeks' delay in quarantine after the crew have become acclimated, and fumigations, and sprinklings with acids in the cabin, until all hands are pickled or smoke-dried, will not purify the ship's hold, prevent the exhalation of pestilential gases, and arrest the progress of infection.

Then may we not hope that the expensive quarantine establishments, with sweeping, indiscriminating regulations, founded on prejudice, and continued through fear and ignorance, a disgrace to this enlightened age, and a dead weight on commercial enterprise, will soon be abolished? In their stead let a board of health be instituted, with an office where business can be transacted at all hours. Let the master of every vessel which arrives in port, and on board of which deaths have occurred during the passage, report the same at the health office, that judicious measures, such as are adapted to the particular case, may be resorted to, in order to protect the community or individuals from inconvenience or danger when INFECTIOUS diseases exist.

Time passes slowly in quarantine. The officers of a ship are generally taciturn, surly, and exacting; and the crew are unhappy, discontented, disposed to grumble, and ready to quarrel and fight on the most trivial occasions, and often without any occasion whatever. At the expiration of ten protracted days after we let go our anchor in the outer harbor of Gottenburg, we were again honored with a visit from the health officer. The crew manifested their vigorous physical condition by another clamber up the rigging. The officer came on board, shook hands with the captain, and congratulated him on being released from quarantine. The pilot took charge of the vessel, the men were ordered to man the windlass, which order was obeyed with alacrity. Faces diminished in longitude, and were lighted up with smiles. The anchor song of "Yeo, Heave O," never sounded more musical or inspiring than on that occasion. Sail was made on the brig with magical dexterity, and the crew were in fine spirits, jocund, and happy, as we thridded the channel extending some ten miles to the city, looked with surprise upon the innumerable barren rocks and islets scattered around, and entering the strait, surveyed with increasing interest and pleasure cultivated fields, and neat-looking dwelling houses, and men, women, and children, busily engaged in their customary occupations. We felt that we were in the world once more.

Gottenburg is a large and populous city, situated on a plain near the extremity of the fiord, about thirteen miles from the Cattegat, but almost encircled by steep and craggy rocks, hills, and a bold and picturesque scenery, with a fine harbor, the entrance to which is easily defended; it is conveniently located for the foreign trade of Sweden, and next to Stockholm, has the most extensive commerce of any port in the kingdom. Its exports consist chiefly of iron and steel, brought from rich mines nearly two hundred miles in the interior, by a well-perfected system of inland navigation. We lay some weeks at anchor in the upper harbor, and I had abundant opportunities to visit the city, mark its peculiarities and note the character of its inhabitants, who, in Gottenburg and vicinity, as in other parts of the kingdom, are simple and industrious in their habits, and civil and hospitable to strangers.

After our cargo was discharged and a sufficient quantity of iron taken on board for ballast, the American consul informed Captain Allen that he had a prisoner under his charge, accused of a capital crime, whom it was necessary to send to the United States for trial, and that the brig Joseph had been selected for the honor of conveying the criminal across the ocean. The captain did not appear flattered by this mark of confidence on the part of the consul; he ventured a weak remonstrance, but finally submitted with a good grace. Preparations were accordingly made for the reception of the prisoner, who had made one of the crew of the large clipper schooner Plattsburg, on board which vessel mutiny, piracy, and murder had been committed.

The Plattsburg sailed from Baltimore about the 1st of July, 1816, bound on a voyage to Smyrna, in the Mediterranean, with a cargo of coffee, and $42,000 in specie. The schooner was commanded by William Hackett; the name of the chief mate was Frederick Yeizer, the second mate was Stephen B. Onion, and Thomas Baynard was the supercargo. The crew consisted of six persons, all of whom were foreigners, and among them were some desperate, hardened ruffians, who had learned lessons in villany on board Patriot privateers, some of which, under no legal restraint, and responsible to no government, were little better than pirates. The names of these men were John Williams a Canadian, Peter Rog a Dane, Francis Frederick a Spaniard, Miles Petersen a Swede, William Stromer a Prussian, and Nathaniel White an Englishman.

Before the Plattsburg had passed Cape Henry symptoms of insubordination appeared among the crew. One of the men, named John Williams, was particularly insolent and troublesome, and was chastised by the captain, after which the voyage was quietly pursued, and the crew were obedient and apparently contented. But beneath this apparent calm a terrible storm was brewing. A fiendish plan was devised by Williams and Stromer, and agreed to by the rest, to murder the officers and get possession of the money, which they knew was on board. They first determined to poison the captain, supercargo, and mates, but owing to some failure in their calculations, this plan was abandoned. When off the Western Islands, it was determined, after some discussion to seize on the officers while they were taking an observation of the sun at meridian, and, following the example of the mutineers of the Bounty, compel them to embark in the long-boat, and run their chance of reaching the shore. Williams and Stromer provided themselves with cords in order to bind the captain, and also with weapons to knock him on the head if he should resist; but when the time for action arrived, the hearts of their associates failed them, and the project was abandoned.

Williams reproached his shipmates for their cowardice. They were not lacking in rascality, but they wanted nerve to carry into effect the desperate design of taking possession of the schooner. Another consultation was held, and it was concluded that the SAFEST proceeding would be to massacre the officers before they could have an opportunity to make resistance. This plan was resolved upon, and all the details were carefully arranged, and every man had his part assigned him in the fearful tragedy which was about to be enacted.

Accordingly about midnight, on the 24th of July, being then but little more than a hundred miles to the westward of the Straits of Gibraltar, a loud cry was heard from the forecastle, of "Sail, ho! Right ahead!"

Mr. Yeizer, the mate, rushed forward to obtain a view of the vessel, and on stepping forward of the windlass, was felled to the deck by a murderous blow from a handspike in the hands of one of the mutineers. His body was instantly seized upon and thrown overboard. The second mate, who had just been called, hearing the cry of "a sail," hastened on deck and was going forward, when he was struck a violent blow, and grappled by Williams, who exclaimed, "Here is one of the rascals! Overboard with him!" But the captain, alarmed by the cries and trampling on deck, now made his appearance, and Williams released his grasp on Onion and attacked the captain, who, unsuspicious of any mutinous intentions, was unarmed. He was summarily disposed of, being brained by a handspike or heaver, and thrown into the sea. Onion, greatly terrified, escaped down the companion-way, and concealed himself in the bread locker.

The mutineers now called upon Mr. Baynard, the supercargo, to show himself on deck. He hesitated, but on being assured that no harm was intended, and threatened with instant death if he did not make his appearance at once, he passed up the companion-way, and while conversing with Williams, was mercilessly murdered by Stromer and Rog.

Three of the pirates now entered the cabin in search of the second mate, and the question was raised whether his life should be spared. After some debate it was determined that he should not be killed, provided he would take an oath to be faithful to their interests and aid them in their future proceedings. Onion, on hearing the decision, came out of his hiding-place, took the prescribed oath of fidelity, and was admitted a member of the fraternity. As some proper organization for the management of the vessel was considered necessary, Stromer was chosen captain, Williams's chief mate, and Onion retained his position as second mate.

On the morning succeeding this terrible crime, the specie was taken from "the run" beneath the cabin and brought on deck. Each man including Onion and Samberson, the cook, who took no part in the outrage received a share of the money, which was measured out in hats and tin pots, a single share amounting to about five thousand dollars.

And now the important question arose to what part of the world should they direct their course, in order to sell the vessel and cargo and make their escape with their ill-gotten booty; for they knew the deed would soon be known and the avengers of blood be upon their heels. They, finally, concluded to shape their course to the northward, and enter some obscure port in Norway, where no very strict inquisition would probably be made into the character of the vessel of their intentions, and from which place they could easily find means of proceeding to other parts of Europe. Onion, who was a skilful penman, was directed to manufacture some new invoices of cargo and alter other papers in such a manner as to deceive, for a time at least, the revenue authorities of such port as they might enter; and Williams altered the ship's log-book to correspond with the story they had agreed upon.

They arrived at Cleveland, a small port in Norway, about the middle of August, and conducted their affairs in such a way as to give no cause for supposing anything was wrong, But when Stromer expressed a desire to sell the vessel and cargo, without being particular in regard to the price, suspicions were excited that all was not right; and those suspicions were strengthened by some careless remarks of Frederick and Rog after they had been drinking freely. The schooner was accordingly seized and taken possession of by the proper authorities, and brought round to another wharf, where an investigation took place. This of course alarmed the guilty crew, and before their iniquity was discovered, each man took his share of money so dearly earned, and in all haste left the shores of Norway.

Williams, Onion, Rog, Frederick, and Samberson embarked in a sloop for Copenhagen, where they landed in fine spirits; and under the direction of Frederick, who was a native of that city, undertook to open a store, and with this object purchased a variety of goods. But it was not long before some circumstances drew upon them the attention of the police. They were arrested, and Samberson exposed the whole horrible transaction. These men were thrown into prison, and intelligence of their arrest was sent to the American government; but more than two years expired before they were brought to this country in the United States ship Hornet.

Stromer and White went off together; and Stromer probably proceeded to Prussia with his share of the money. He was never discovered by the satellites of justice; but White was subsequently arrested and brought to trial. Petersen, who was a native of Gottenberg, returned directly to his home. He had parents in that city of respectable standing, besides brothers and sisters. He told his relatives an ingenious tale to account for his prosperous condition, but he was speedily tracked by the officers of justice, and one day while enjoying himself with his friends, and lavishly spending his money, he was arrested for the dreadful crimes of piracy and murder, and thrown into a dungeon, where he remained heavily ironed for nearly twelve months, when he was transferred to the brig Joseph for conveyance to the United States.



Chapter XXXVII. RETURN OF THE WANDERER

We sailed from Gottenburg one morning about the first of September, 1817, bound to Boston. Having been long absent from my home without intercourse of any description with my friends and relations, and having seen during that period striking exemplifications of the caprices of fortune, having experienced "many ups and downs," the downs, however, being decidedly in the majority, I felt a strong desire, a yearning, to return once more to my friends in New England. I was convinced there were worse places in the world than my own dear native land, and far worse people than those among whom my lot had been cast in childhood.

It was on a Saturday we sailed from Gottenburg. It had been Captain Allen's intention to sail on the previous Thursday, but he was unexpectedly detained. On Friday morning all the arrangements were completed; the brig was ready for sea, the wind was fresh and fair, but not a step was taken towards getting under weigh. Indeed our worthy captain plumply told Mr. Bowen that NO CONSIDERATION COULD INDUCE HIM TO GO TO SEA ON A FRIDAY! The crew, one and all, as well as the mate, were amused at this exhibition of weakness, which did not increase the respect for his character; for ALL sailors are not superstitious, although they are proverbially regarded as such.

Petersen, the prisoner, who was brought on board in irons, bore no resemblance in personal appearance to the ferocious, ill-looking, big-whiskered ruffian, whose image is conjured up by the mention of the word "pirate." On the contrary he was a gentle-looking youth, only nineteen years of age, of a slight figure, pale complexion, and a pleasant, prepossessing countenance. He spoke English fluently, and by his conduct, intelligence, and plausible representations, soon won the favor of every man on board. He declared that he did not participate in the mutiny; that it was planned without his knowledge; that when the murders were committed he was asleep in the forecastle, and fear for his own life induced him to accept a share of the money and endeavor to conceal the crime.

His story was believed by Captain Allen and others, and he was relieved from his handcuffs every morning, and allowed to leave his quarters in the half-deck and range the vessel, mix with the sailors and assist in the performance of the various duties; and he showed himself an active, obedient, and intelligent seaman. He often expressed a wish that his trial should take place; he was confident of an acquittal, and longed to be once more at liberty.

I may as well state here that the trial of the mutineers of the Plattsburg, viz., Williams, Rog, Frederick, Petersen, and White took place on the 28th of December, 1818, before the U.S. Circuit Court, in session at Boston, Justice Story presiding. They were defended by able counsel, but convicted on circumstantial evidence, corroborated by the direct testimony of Samberson and Onion. It appeared on the trial that the mild and amiable-looking Petersen was one of the most forward and active of the mutineers. It was he who gave the signal for action by crying "Sail, ho!" and he subsequently assisted in throwing overboard the mate and murdering the captain.

The execution of these pirates was appointed for the 21st of January, 1819, but on the ground that the time between the sentence and execution, twenty-four days, was too short to allow the criminals to make their peace with God, a respite was granted until the 18th of February. On that day they were placed in a wagon, and a procession was formed of an imposing character, which, after passing through Court Street, State Street, India Street, and Milk Street to the Main street, now Washington street, proceeded to "the town land on boston Neck," where the execution took place in presence of twenty thousand people.

These men died a terrible death, in a strange land, far from their homes and kindred. Although such number witnessed the execution, few sympathized with them in their sufferings, for all acknowledged that their sentence was just. Their execution, doubtless, acted as an impressive warning to others, and restrained desperate ruffians from the commission of desperate deeds.

In all ages, crimes of a dark dye when committed on the ocean, have been regarded as exhibiting a more depraved character in the criminal than crimes of a similar description committed on the land. At sea there are no constables or police officers, no magistrates or good citizens ready and willing to aid in preserving the peace of society, protecting life and property when endangered, and in arresting a rogue or murderer. For this reason laws relating to mutiny, piracy, and murder on the seas are punishable with death. In many atrocious cases it is difficult, perhaps impossible, to obtain proof sufficient to convict the offender; but whenever a violator of those laws, whether a principal or accessory, is arrested, tried, and convicted, THE PUNISHMENT SHOULD BE SURE TO FOLLOW. The certainty of punishment is a mighty preventive to crime. The impulses of that false philanthropy which seems to flourish in the present age, can never be more injuriously indulged than by persevering and unscrupulous efforts to influence the press and rouse public opinion in favor of setting aside the verdict of a jury, and snatching a red-handed murderer on the high seas from the gallows.

Nothing particularly remarkable occurred during our passage home. It was in the season of the year when severe gales are met with on the Atlantic, but the brig Joseph proved a good sea boat, tight as a drum, and could lie to or scud without danger of being overwhelmed by the combing waves. On this passage a little incident occurred off the Orkney Islands, that will convey some idea of the dangers to which those are subjected whose home is on the ocean.

We were lying to in a gale. The wind blew fiercely in flaws, and there was a high and turbulent sea running. The brig was at times uneasy, and in the pauses of the gale rolled heavily to windward as well as to leeward. Orders were given to send down the fore-top-gallant mast. I hastened with alacrity aloft for that purpose, and had reached the cross-trees, when in a lull of the tempest, the brig, lying in the trough of the sea, lurched fearfully to windward. I grasped firmly one of the top-gallant shrouds above the cross-trees, but the rope being old and decayed, parted in the horn of the cross-trees BENEATH MY HANDS.

I clung, with a desperate grasp, to the rope, but was thrown out with a jerk in an angle of forty-five degrees with the horizon, and when the brig suddenly righted I attained for a few seconds a horizontal position, and to an observer on deck must have looked not unlike a spread eagle burgee at half-mast. If I had relinquished my grasp at that moment I should have been thrown into the sea some thirty feet from the vessel's side, and a full period would have been put to the adventures of Hawser Martingale. But, notwithstanding the muscles of my arms were severely wrenched, I was fortunately able to retain my grasp. The next moment the action of gravitation, together with the roll to leeward, threw me back with terrific force against the topmast rigging, which I eagerly seized, and then rejoicing at my lucky escape from a great danger, and regardless of the bruises I had received, I went on with my work.

On the passage homeward I often indulged in reflections in regard to my future position in life; and while walking the deck at night loved to let my fancy roam and picture castles in the air, which, I fondly hoped, might at some future day be actually constructed. My highest ambition was to gain, as rapidly as possible, a thorough knowledge of my business, procure the command of a good ship, and by my own labors, acquire a competence before age should weaken the faculties or diminish a relish for society; and then, residing in my own house with a small piece of land attached which I could cultivate with my own hands, and within a few miles of the metropolis of New England, surrounded by a pleasant neighborhood, and enjoying domestic happiness in all its purity, gently sail down the stream of life.

This was not an extravagant dream. Yet the chances were at times terribly against its fulfilment. But I never despaired, and fully believed that if Providence should grant me life and continued health, THE CASTLE WOULD BE BUILT. In the darkest hours I kept a bright lookout ahead, far ahead for the cheerful and safe harbor which imagination had so often portrayed. And the dream has been realized almost precisely as it appeared to me in my youthful days; and I have enjoyed for many years, in the retirement which my fancy painted, as much happiness as usually falls to the lot of man in this checkered life, with a strong hope,

"When the brief voyage in safety is o'er, To meet with loved friends on the far distant shore."

About forty days after leaving Gottenburg we reached the Grand Bank of Newfoundland, and crossed it in latitude of forty-four degrees. We fell in with many fishing vessels riding at anchor in thirty fathoms of water, the hardy crews of which, rigged out in their "boots and barvels," were busily engaged in their useful but arduous occupation. When on the centre of the bank, the fog which had previously obscured objects at a distance, was suddenly swept away, and we counted from the deck seventy-four schooners at anchor, besides several which were under sail.

The Bank of Newfoundland is of enormous extent, reaching some two hundred and fifty miles into the Atlantic, from the southern part of Newfoundland and islands in that vicinity. Its southern extremity is in about forty-two degrees of latitude, and fifty degrees west longitude from Greenwich. The depth of water varies from twenty-five to fifty fathoms. The Bank is in the direct track of vessels bound to and from Europe, and many sad disasters have occurred to the fishermen, while lying at anchor in rough weather in a dense fog. In some instances they have been run down, crushed to fragments, by large ships under full sail, and every one of the crew has perished.

The fish on this Bank are chiefly cod, and have been taken in incredible numbers by the crews of vessels built and fitted out for this purpose, for more than two hundred years; and in times past this fishery has proved a certain source of income, and sometimes of wealth, to bold and enterprising men. But for a number of years this business has not been so profitable as formerly, and not so many vessels have been employed. It has been intimated by evil-disposed persons that the capital stock of the Bank is getting reduced, and that it will ere long fail to make discounts or pay dividends. But such rumors are the offspring of calumny; the Bank is undoubtedly sound, has a solid bottom, and its treasures and resources are inexhaustible.

The fishermen of the Grand Bank, in "days lang syne," belonged chiefly to Marblehead and Cape Ann. They were a bold, hardy, sinewy set of men, inured to fatigue and reckless of danger, cheerful in their dispositions, impatient under restraint, fond of what they considered good living, ready with a joke or yarn on all occasions, and not a little inclined to superstition. Indeed the fishing vessels on the Bank, if we are to credit the tales told years ago, were often favored by the presence of death warnings, mysterious noises, ghosts, and apparitions. Sounds were heard and sights seen on board fishing vessels on the Bank, which filled the stoutest hearts with fear and wonder, and would even astonish the most inveterate spiritualist of the present day.

On shore the fishermen were a jolly set of fellows, social in their dispositions, not given to vicious indulgences, but somewhat careless of their earnings, regarding their resources as inexhaustible as "the fish in the sea." They married early, made kind and affectionate husbands, and were, in almost every case, blessed with a numerous offspring; indeed, Marblehead fishermen of sixty years of age would remind a person of the Bible patriarchs for the number of their descendants. Their wives, fresh, blooming, spirited, and good-humored, were grandmothers at six and thirty, great grandmothers at fifty-four, and great great grandmothers at the age of seventy-four!

The fishermen were patriotic, too. They were dear lovers of their country and its institutions, and prided themselves on their attachment to democracy. In the war of the revolution the citizens of Marblehead and Gloucester, and Cape Cod, no longer able to pursue their accustomed vocations, joined the armies which fought for freedom, and rendered important services on the land as well as on the ocean. In the latest, and, we trust, THE LAST, war with Great Britain, they came forward almost to a man, to assist in manning our frigates and privateers; and no class of men rendered better services, or could be more confidently relied on when deeds of daring were to be performed, than the whole-hearted and hard-handed fishermen of Massachusetts Bay.

As a nursery for seamen for our merchant ships in time of peace, the fishing business has proved of immense advantage to the country, and that policy may justly be regarded as suicidal on the part of the national government which would throw barriers in the way of its success.

To those who are familiar with the extent and geographical position of the Grand Bank of Newfoundland, it may seem surprising, perhaps incredible, that fishing vessels have been known to seek for it, day after day, in vain. Yet that such occurrences have taken place in "olden times" is an established fact. But to the honor of our fishermen it may be said that such blunders in plain navigation have been exceedingly rare, and as much owing to a free circulation of the fiery liquid, which addles men's brains, as to sheer ignorance.

Many years ago a schooner sailed from Gloucester bound to the Grand Bank, in charge of a thick dunderhead of a skipper, and a crew of about equal mental calibre. In putting up the stores the grog was not forgotten. Indeed it was regarded as a necessary on shipboard, as a shrewd counsellor in difficulty and danger, a friendly consoler when borne down by misfortune, and a cheerful companion in prosperity, which could not be too often embraced.

The schooner met with head winds before she reached the meridian of Cape Sable, and was beating about for several days between Cape Sable and St. George's Bank. At length the wind hauled to the southward, and the skipper put the schooner's head to the north-east, and let her run, making a fair wind of it. On the following day, towards night, he got soundings in twenty fathoms. "Hallo!" shouted the skipper, "what a lucky fellow I am; I have hit the broadest and shoalest part of the Bank the first time of trying! I verily believe I could hit a nun buoy if it was anchored in any part of the ocean. But never mind, boys, let us freshen the nip; we'll stand well on to the Bank, then let go the kellock, and haul up the cod!"

He stood on for a couple of hours, when greatly to his mortification and amazement, he found his schooner floundering and thumping on a sand bank. She soon knocked a hole in her bottom, and the crew with great difficulty made their escape to land, which was not far off. Even then the skipper was disposed to believe ha had found an island on the Bank which had never before been discovered; and it was hard work to convince him that he was cast away on the Isle of Sable!

Another case is said to have occurred of clumsy navigation on the part of one of our Marblehead skippers. The tale is traditionary, but no less authentic on that account.

The fishing schooner Codhook was ready for a trip to the Grand Bank for a cargo of the deposits, when the skipper, a faithful, skilful, hardy old fisherman, as is the case with most of this valuable class of men, was taken sick, and compelled reluctantly to relinquish the voyage. It became necessary to find a skipper, and as it was a busy season, it was not an easy matter to procure the right kind of a man. After a time, however, it was concluded that nothing better could be done than to appoint old Jonas Hardhead skipper for this single trip.

Jonas, or "Uncle Jonas," as he was familiarly called, had been to sea during the greater part of his life, but for the last few years had been engaged occasionally in the fishing business; and when he could be kept sober he was a valuable fisherman, for few could endure more hardship, or haul up the cod faster than Uncle Jonas. He also boasted of his skill in navigation, and according to his own story could handle a quadrant or even a sextant as adroitly as a marlinspike. It was finally settled that he should act as skipper on this voyage, provided he would promise to keep sober. Jonas gave the pledge with alacrity, although his feelings seemed hurt that his sobriety was doubted; he even declared that he was never otherwise than sober in his life; and was forthwith inducted into office.

In order to aid him in keeping his promise to the owners, Uncle Jonas took with him on board some ten or a dozen bottles of "old Jamaica," a beverage which he dearly loved; and although he seldom got absolutely drunk when on shore, it was rarely the case that he went to bed sober. He had no doubt of his qualifications to perform well his duty as skipper, and was determined to have a jovial time at all events.

He had a quadrant and a Bowditch's Navigator, as well as a chart of the Atlantic Ocean and of the American coast. But all this machinery was of little use to Uncle Jonas. Indeed he secretly despised book-learning, regarding it as a humbug, and relied upon his experience and judgment in navigating his vessel. He was aware that by steering a course east, or east half south, and running in that direction for several days, he would strike the broadside of the Grand Bank, which he expected to know by the color of the water, the soundings, the many birds, and the fishing vessels at anchor. He also supposed that when he returned with a glorious fare, a westerly course would fetch some part of the coast, when he should certainly fall in with vessels, and easily ascertain the where-away of Boston Bay, with all of which coast he was familiar.

The schooner Codhook left the wharf with a roaring north-wester, and in order to secure a lucky cruise Uncle Jonas treated himself and his companions, a jolly set of fellows also, with a stiff glass of grog. He afterwards drank to a fair wind, to a continuance of the breeze, and repeated this operation so often, that what little knowledge and judgment he could boast of when he left the wharf, insensibly oozed away; and for nearly a week his mental faculties were a great deal below par. In the meantime the wind blew a fresh breeze from the westward without intermission, and the old schooner rolled and wallowed along with nearly all sail set, at a tremendous rate, and actually crossed the Bank on the fifth day after leaving port. But the weather was foggy, and the eyes of the skipper were dim. No change was observed in the water, no birds or fishing vessels were seen.

Onward the schooner went, with all sail spread to the wind, like a new Flying Dutchman, until the seventh day after leaving port, when the wind began to abate a little and haul to the southward. The horizon was now clear, and Uncle Jonas began to look out for vessels, and expressed a decided opinion that he was nearly up with the Bank. The sun went down and no fishing vessels were seen under sail or at anchor. He was confident they would be visible on the following day, and in order that his vision might be clearer, he swallowed a strong potation before he turned in.

On the next morning not a vessel of any description was in sight, and the skipper, confident that the Bank could not be far off, concluded to sound. The deep-sea lead was thrown, but he got no bottom with ninety fathoms of line. "Wheugh!" exclaimed Uncle Jonas, "what has become of the Bank?"

The wind now blew merrily from the south-west, and merrily sailed the schooner; Uncle Jonas keeping a sharp look-out for fishing vessels, and sounding every six hours. Ten days passed away, and he began to be alarmed, and expressed fears that the Bank had failed, refused payments, sunk, or cleared out! He continued, however, to consult his Jamaica friend, and sought its advice and assistance in his perplexity. It is singular that in times of difficulty and danger, when a clear head is particularly necessary, men who have charge of property, and the lives of their fellow-men, are prone to consult the rum bottle, which always produces an effect precisely the reverse of what is desired.

At length, on the twelfth day of the passage, Uncle Jonas, whose patience was nearly exhausted, saw a large number of gannets and gulls; the water was remarkably chilly, and seemed to have a tinge of green. "Aha," said the skipper, "I have got you at last." But he could not see any fishing vessels, or obtain bottom with ninety fathoms of line.

On the following morning, however, much to his gratification, he obtained soundings in sixty fathoms of water. "There," exclaimed the skipper triumphantly to his men, "you more than insinuated that I was no navigator, but I have carried the ship straight to the Grand Bank in fine style. We will stand on until we get thirty fathoms of water, and then go to work like men."

His companions acknowledged their error, asked pardon for doubting his infallibility, and promised never again to question his ability to navigate a vessel to any part of the globe.

But, much to the surprise and disappointment of Uncle Jonas, the water did not shoal, but rather deepened as he kept along to the eastward. He again became bewildered, and could hardly help admitting that there might be some mistake in the matter, as he never found such deep water on the Bank before. He repeatedly swept the horizon with his glass, hoping to conjure up some vessel, and procure definite information in regard to his whereabouts. In the afternoon he saw a ship approaching from the eastward, and his heart was gladdened at the sight. He hauled the schooner on a wind, hoisted his colors, and prepared to speak the ship. She proved to be the packet ship James Monroe, Captain Wilkinson, bound from Liverpool to New York. Uncle Jonas eagerly inquired of the captain of the ship if he had fallen in with any fishing vessels on his passage.

"Ay, ay," was the reply; "I saw a number of them in the Irish Channel."

"Irish Channel!" echoed the skipper, with a howl of agony. "Why, where are we, my good fellow; do tell us where we are."

"We are about thirty-five miles south-south-east of Cape Clear, and on the Nymph Bank!"

Uncle Jonas dashed his trumpet to the deck, and sprang perpendicularly four feet by actual measurement so true, it is, that astonishment prompts a man instinctively to extraordinary gymnastic exercises!

The skipper was in an awkward dilemma. He had gone across the Atlantic, with a fair and fresh breeze, safely and expeditiously enough; but he cherished strong doubts whether his skill in navigation would suffice to carry him back. He explained the case candidly to Captain Wilkinson, who, after a hearty laugh at the expense of Uncle Jonas, consented to furnish him with a navigator. He accordingly put a young man on board the schooner who was a proficient in the art of navigation an art with which the commander of a vessel on the ocean should be somewhat familiar.

As a preliminary step, the new captain caused the remainder of the "Jamaica" to be thrown overboard, and every thing else which was akin to it. Uncle Jonas begged hard to retain it as a solace under trouble; but he was overruled by the new navigator, and also the crew, all of whom felt mortified at the result of the trip thus far, and overboard it went. The head of the schooner was got round to the westward, her sails were trimmed to the breeze, and the schooner jogged along quietly in the wake of the ship until the latter was out of sight.

In due time, that is, in about thirty-five days after having spoken the ship James Monroe, for the wind was westerly nearly the whole time, the schooner Codhook reached the Grand Bank. Neither the navigator nor the crew would consent to remain there any great length of time indeed, for various reasons, all were anxious to return to Marblehead. In about a fortnight afterwards they reached the port from which they started, after an absence of about two months, having had a glorious cruise, but bringing home a slender fare.

Uncle Jonas was laughed at until the day of his death; but he always warded off the ridicule by declaring that no fishing schooner had ever before reached Cape Clear from Massachusetts Bay in fourteen days from leaving port!

We crossed the Grand Bank in the brig Joseph, and proceeded on our way towards Cape Cod. But meeting with south-west winds after passing the Isle of Sable, we were forced to the northward on the coast of Nova Scotia. Here we were enveloped in fogs of a density which seemed appalling. Unable to obtain a meridian observation of the sun, and swept about by unknown currents, we were uncertain of our latitude, and more than once came near wrecking the brig on that dangerous iron-bound shore.

After beating to windward a few days, the wind hauled us to the southward and eastward, the fog towards noon, to a very considerable extent, dispersed, and Captain Allen obtained a meridian altitude of the sun, the horizon being as he erroneously thought, well defined. Having thus determined the latitude to his satisfaction, he ordered the brig to be steered about west-south-west, which, he supposed, would carry us round Cape Sable, clear of all danger.

This cape is well known as the southern extremity of Nova Scotia, a dangerous point, on which, notwithstanding the lighthouse on its extremity, many vessels have been wrecked, and a countless number of lives have been lost. The fog again gathered around the brig soon after the sun had passed the meridian, and became so dense that for several hour it was impossible to perceive any object, even at the distance of twenty yards from the vessel. But Captain Allen, confident in the correctness of his latitude by observation, manifested no anxiety, and kept the brig on her course, without ordering any particular lookout, which, indeed, would hardly have been of use, or using the lead.

There was a steady breeze, and the brig was going through the water at the rate of six or seven knots, when, just as the shades of evening began to fall, the thick curtain, which had hitherto surrounded us on every side, was suddenly lifted. The fog vanished as if at the will of an enchanter; and, to the consternation of Captain Allen and every person on board, we discovered craggy ledges of rock rising out of the water directly ahead and on either side, and not a quarter of a mile off!

We were running directly on Cape Sable. It was a narrow escape. The brig was immediately put round on the other tack, and we clawed off from the land with all possible speed, shuddering at the idea of the dangers which in the fog-darkness had surrounded us, and truly grateful for our preservation.

The fogs on our coast are a great impediment in the way of navigation. They screen from view the lighthouses in the night, and the headlands in the daytime, and are often the cause of perplexity and dismay even to the most skilful navigator, and have led to the destruction of thousands of vessels. The philosopher, who, stimulated by the spirit which led Professor Espy to attempt to control the storms, change the density of the atmosphere, and produce rain in times of drought, should succeed in placing in the hands of the navigator the means of dispelling fogs at will when navigating a dangerous coast, would indeed be a benefactor to sailors, and deserve the richest tribute of gratitude.

As we approached the shores of Massachusetts, having been six weeks at sea, every person on board was anxious to obtain a sight of land once more, notwithstanding our vessel was stanch and strong and our provisions and water abundant. There is always a pleasant excitement among a ship's company at the prospect of soon terminating a voyage. We drew towards Cape Cod, and one night when the soundings indicated that we were not far from the shore, a good look-out was kept from the topsail yard for the light; but no light was visible through the night. Soon after daybreak, the LIGHTHOUSE, right ahead, was plainly seen from the deck with the naked eye, being not more than five or six miles off. Whether the light had been allowed to expire through inattention on the part of an unfaithful keeper, or a thick haze had collected over the land and veiled it from the view of vessels in the offing, as was suggested by some good-natured individuals, was never known.

All was now bustle and excitement. The land was in sight; the "highlands of Cape Cod" were plainly visible; the wind was north-east, and every thing indicated that we should be safely anchored in Boston harbor, or hauled snugly in, alongside the wharf, before another night.

It is pleasant to witness the exuberance of spirits on such an occasion. Orders were promptly obeyed; every man moved as if he had been suddenly endued with a double portion of strength and activity; smiles lighted up every countenance; the joke and the laugh went round, and even Cato, the philosophic African, as he stood near his camboose and gazed earnestly on the barren sands, clapped his hands with glee, exhibited a store of ivory which would have excited the admiration of an elephant. Even the old brig seemed to participate in the joyousness that pervaded the ship's company, and glided along smoothly and rapidly, gracefully and merrily, as if conscious that a quiet haven and a snug resting place were at hand.

Passing Race Point we soon came in sight of the "south shore" of Massachusetts By, the land hallowed by the trials and sufferings of the Pilgrims. We passed near Cohasset Rocks, dangers, which, it is well known, have caused the destruction of many a noble ship and in full view of Boston lighthouse we received a pilot on board.

Pilots should be a happy as well as a useful class of men. When a ship arrives at the entrance of a harbor, after a long passage, the sight of a pilot carries joy to every heart. He appears truly in the guise of "a guide, philosopher, and friend," is warmly welcomed, and treated with kindness and hospitality. The news is eagerly demanded, friends are inquired for, and the words which fall from his lips are attentively listened to, carefully noted, and prized as highly as the sayings of the Delphic oracles.

The dome of the State House was soon distinctly seen; a conspicuous object, which seems to rest lightly upon the countless edifices, a mural crown upon a kingly city. We thridded the narrows, and off Long Island Head Captain Allen suddenly recollected he had a prisoner under his charge. Petersen had been released from durance in the morning as usual, and light-hearted and joyous, had toiled with the crew, apparently sympathizing in their feelings. Speaking English fluently, and well acquainted with the harbor, for he had sailed a voyage out of Boston, it would have been easy for him to slip quietly over the bow and swim to the shore, where, it is possible, he might have escaped the fearful punishment that awaited him for his crimes. But he made no effort to escape, and was now conducted below by the mate, handcuffed, and confined to his quarters in the half-deck.

We had no sooner anchored off Long Wharf than Captain Allen went ashore, and in about an hour the United States Marshal, accompanied by a posse with handcuffs and shackles, came on board and demanded the prisoner. Petersen was brought on deck and delivered into his hands. But his countenance had undergone an appalling change within a few hours. He seemed suddenly to have realized the horrors of his situation. His features were pale, and his eye seemed glazed with fear as he looked upon the officers of justice, and, trembling in every limb, was assisted into the boat. A sense of his guilt, and the terrible consequences, now seemed to weigh upon his spirits. The penalty exacted by the laws for the crimes of piracy and murder stared him in the face.

We arrived in Boston on the 24th of October, 1817, having been fifty-four days on our passage from Gottenburg. I had not accumulated treasures during my wanderings, but I had improved my constitution, acquired a habit of resignation and cheerfulness which bade defiance to the freaks of fortune, gained some knowledge of the world, and rejoiced in robust health, one of the greatest of earthly blessings, and which as often cheers and enlightens the condition of the poor man, as his more fortunate fellow-mortal rolling in riches.

When paid off, I found myself in possession of means to rig myself out in decent apparel, and provide myself with other exterior appurtenances of a gentleman; and also to defray my expenses on a visit to my relations in New Hampshire, from whom I had so long been separated, and whom I longed to convince by tangible proofs that I was still in the land of the living. And thus I returned from my wanderings after an absence of nearly seven years, during which I had witnessed many eventful scenes, and had studied the page of human nature in various climes.

Notwithstanding my occasional hard fortune at sea, a seafaring life still possessed many powerful attractions. I was bound to it by a charm which I did not attempt to break. Besides, I had put my hand to the plough and I would not look back. Although I had passed many happy hours in the forecastle, free from care and responsibility, and associating with men whose minds, if may be, were uncultivated, but whose heads were well furnished and whose hearts were in the right place, yet visions of an important station on "the quarter-deck," at no distant period, were often conjured up by my imagination; and I resolved that many day should not pass before I would again brave the perils, share the strange excitement, and court the joys which accompany life on the sea.



Chapter XXXVIII. THE SEA, AND SAILORS

When we embark on the ocean, we are astonished at its immensity, bounded only by the horizon, with not a speck of land, a solitary rock, or landmark of any description, to guide the adventurers cast adrift on its broad surface, with "water, water, every where;" and when we see its face agitated by storms, and listen to the thunder of its billows, and reflect on its uncertain and mysterious character, and on the dangers with which it has been associated in every age, we wonder at the courage and enterprise of those early navigators, strangers to science, who dared embark on the waste of waters in vessels of the frailest construction, to explore the expanse of ocean and make discovery of,

"New lands, Rivers and mountains on the spotted globe."

Even familiarity with the sea, which has become the great highway of nations, does not diminish its sublimity, its wild beauties, its grandeur, and the terrible power of its wrath.

The immensity of the sea, notwithstanding its surface has been traversed and measured by thousands of voyagers for centuries, fills the contemplative mind with awe, as a wonderful creation of Almighty Power. One can hardly realize its vast extent from figures and calculations, without sailing over its surface and witnessing its immensity, as day after day passes away, the cry being still "onward, onward!" and the view bounded on every side by the distant horizon.

On gazing down into its depths, when not a breath of wind sweeps over its surface, when its face is like a polished mirror, we find the water almost as transparent as the air we breathe, yet the keenest optics can penetrate but a few fathoms below the surface. The movements, the operations instinct with life, that are constantly taking place in that body of water, and the mighty changes which are going on in the vast tract of earth on which it reposes, are invisible to mortal eye.

Within a few years, the progress of scientific knowledge has enabled man to measure the depths of the ocean, which were formerly believed to be as unfathomable as boundless in extent. From soundings which have been taken, it is ascertained that the configuration of the earth at the bottom of the sea, is similar to that portion which rises above the surface, undulating, and interspersed with hills, and valleys, and plains, and mountain ranges, and abrupt precipices. The greatest depth of water at which soundings have been obtained, being between five and six miles, is deeper than the altitude of the highest mountain of which we have knowledge; and there may be cavities of far greater depth. Geological researches prove that at an early period of the history of the earth its surface was vastly more irregular than at the present time. Not only the mountains on the earth were higher, but the deepest valleys of ocean were far deeper. Disintegrations caused by exposure to water or the atmosphere, and abrasions from causes with which we may not be familiar, have lowered the mountain tops, and created deposits which raise the plains and fill the deepest chasms. And here geologists find the origin of the earliest formation of stratified rocks.

Men have striven in vain to develop the secrets which lie hidden in the sea. Imagination has been at work for ages, and in some cases has pictured the bottom of ocean as a sort of marine paradise, a nautical Eden, with charming grottoes, spacious gardens, coral forests, ridges of golden sands, and heaps of precious gems; and abounding in inhabitants with fairy forms, angelic features, and other attributes corresponding with the favored region in which they flourish, who sometimes rise to the surface of ocean, and seated on the craggy rocks, sing sweet ballads to charm away the life of the unwary mariner. Leyden, a Scottish poet, imagines one of these charming denizens of the deep to describe, in the following poetic language, the attractions of this submarine world: