the next morning we took a survey of our new quarters. we found ourselves placed in a large yard, surrounded by high walls, and strongly guarded by soldiers. within this inclosure, there was a building, or shed, composed of three rooms, neither of which had any floor. round the sides stood three benches or stages, one above the other, to serve for berths. on these we spread our hammocks and bed-clothes, making them tolerably comfortable places to sleep in. a few of the men preferred to sling their hammocks, as they did at sea. here, also, we used to eat, unless, as was our frequent practice, we did so in the open air.
our officers had been sent thirty miles inland, so that we had lost the natural exactors of discipline among seamen. to remedy this deficiency, our first step was to adopt a set of regulations in respect to order, cleanliness, &c., and to appoint certain of our number to enforce them.
we experienced some unpleasantness, at first, from the insolence of some of the sergeants commanding the prison guard. most of these petty officers were very friendly and kind, but two or three of them manifested a surly, tyrannical temper, annoying us in many little things, enough to embitter our enjoyment, while they were on duty. this petty despotism we soon cured, by returning their abuse in a rather provoking kind of coin. we used to plague them by causing a long delay when the hour arrived for them to be relieved. they were required to muster us every morning, that we might be counted before the new guard took us in charge. on those occasions some would purposely absent themselves; others were sent to find the absentees; these, in their turn, would hide themselves, and require to be sought by others. this was excessively vexatious to the soldiers, and as it occurred only when a tyrannical sergeant was on guard, they soon understood its meaning. the plan was successful, and we thus got rid of one source of discomfort.
our next difficulty was with the old dutchman, named badiem, who furnished our prison with provisions. he had already learned the difficulty of cheating a yankee; for the americans who were carried away in the denmark had been in this same prison, and had taught the old man that they were rougher customers than the frenchmen who had preceded them. we gave him another lesson.
he undertook to wrong us and benefit himself by furnishing a very inferior article of bread. after counselling among ourselves, we took the following plan to bring him to his senses:
we were visited every day by a superior officer, called the officer of the day. he was a kind old man, who had seen service in the war of the revolution, and was at the battle of bunker hill. he had a profound respect for the american character, and could not speak of that great action without tears. one day a friendly sergeant being on duty, we gave him a piece of the old dutchman’s bread, complaining bitterly of its quality. when the old officer came round as usual, on a fine, dashing charger, and asked his customary question of “all right?” our friend the sergeant replied, “no, sir!”
“what is the matter?” asked the venerable old gentleman.
“the prisoners complain of their bread, sir,” said the sergeant.
“let me see it,” answered the general. the sergeant gave him a small piece. he examined it, wrapped it up carefully in some paper, clapped the spurs to his horse, and rode off. the next day, we had better bread than ever before, and an order came for a man from each room to go with the sentry to the town every morning, to examine our daily provision; and, if not what it should be, to reject it. this completely upset the golden visions of the old dutchman. with much choler he exclaimed, “i had rather have one tousand frenchmen, than one hundred yankees.”
we could not now complain of our fare. we had an abundance of beef and mutton, beside a full allowance of bread, &c. the beef, to be sure, was poor, lean stuff, but the mutton was excellent. the sheep at the cape have a peculiarity, which may cause the reader to smile. they have enormously large, flat tails, weighing from twelve to twenty pounds. these are regularly sold by the pound for purposes of cookery. should any one treat this statement as a forecastle yarn, i refer him to the descriptions of these sheep, given by travellers and naturalists.
besides our prison allowance, we had opportunity to purchase as many little luxuries and niceties as our slender finances would permit. these were furnished by a slave, who was the property of the old dutchman, and who was so far a favorite as to be indulged with two wives, and the privilege of selling sundry small articles to the prisoners. this sable polygamist furnished us with coffee, made from burnt barley, for a doublegee (an english penny) per pint; the same sum would purchase a sausage, a piece of fish, or a glass of rum. on equally reasonable terms, he furnished us with blackberries, oranges, &c. our men, who, by the way had eaten fruit in every quarter of the globe, and were therefore competent judges, pronounced the latter the best in the world. the berries afforded me a rich treat at christmas.
to obtain means for the purchase of these dainties, our men braided hats, wrought at mechanical employments, or at such pursuits as their respective tastes and capacities suggested. these occupations served to beguile our confinement of much of its tediousness.
still, we had many vacant, listless hours. to fill them, we resorted to the demoralizing practice of gambling. a game with balls, called shake-bag, loo, venture, all-fours, &c. occupied our evening hours, and sometimes the whole night. it was not uncommon for the game to be protracted beyond the midnight hour of saturday, into the sacred moments of the holy sabbath. on one of these guilty mornings, some of us, on retiring to a shed, found the dead body of a black slave, hanging by the rope, with which, in a moment of unpardonable despair, he had committed the horrid crime of suicide. the hour, the scene, the place, our recent guilty profanation of god’s holy day, conspired to fill many of us with profound dread. in my own mind it led to a few transient purposes of amendment. alas! when the bright sun arose, these purposes had vanished. the influence of vice triumphed. i grew more and more hardened in wickedness.
cape town contained a large slave population. these poor wretches had been extremely degraded under the rule of the dutch. it was said that their condition had been essentially improved since the conquest of the place by the english. still, as the suicide just mentioned demonstrated, slavery was a bitter draught. the british have done wisely since then in granting freedom to the slaves in all their colonies. may the whole world imitate the noble example!
we were subjected to frequent and violent gales of wind while here. the approach of these storms was always faithfully proclaimed by the mountain that towered up behind us; a large white cloud, resting on its summit, like a tablecloth, was a certain indication of the elemental warfare. whenever this phenomenon appeared, our men used to remark, “look out for a blow, the cloth is beginning to spread.” very soon the vessels in the bay could be seen striking their top-gallant masts and yards, and sometimes even housing their top-masts. in a few minutes the ocean would give signs of the coming commotion; the waves became crested with clouds of foam, and the spirit of the storm was seen careering in triumph over the liquid mountains of the angry deep.
besides table mountain, there was another near it, called the lion’s rump, from its similarity to that noble animal in a sitting posture. on the summit of this mountain was a telegraph, which informed us, in common with the people of the cape, of the approach of shipping to the harbor.
at the town, the british had a hospital for the accommodation of their army and navy. the advantages of this institution were humanely and properly offered to us, whenever we were sick. happening to be quite unwell one day, my shipmates advised me to go thither. now, on board the siren, when in a similar state, the surgeon had administered an ounce of glauber salts. the dose caused such nausea, that from that time i held salts in profound abhorrence. when the hospital was suggested to me, i associated it with the idea of salts, and, shuddering, remarked that “i would go if i thought they would not give me salts.” my shipmates all said they thought i should not have salts prescribed: so, under the guard of a sentry, i sallied forth to the hospital. “well, my boy,” said the doctor, “what’s the matter with you?”
with many wry faces, i told him my symptoms; when, to my inconceivable mortification and disgust, he spoke to a sort of lob-lolly boy, who waited upon him, and said, “doctor jack! bring this boy six ounces of salts.”
this was intolerable. one ounce had sickened me for months at the bare mention of salts, and now i was to swallow six! it seemed impossible. the remedy was worse than the disease. i wished myself back at my quarters. this was, however, in vain, unless i took a dangerous leap from the window. i must submit. the salts were brought, but they were not so bad, either in quality or quantity, as my dose in the siren. the reason i found to consist in the fact, that they were epsom instead of glauber, and that the six ounces included the weight of the water in which they were dissolved. so well was i pleased with my visit to the hospital, and especially with the privilege afforded me of walking about the streets of cape town, that i afterwards feigned illness to gain another admission. i was willing to take the salts for the sake of the liberty of jaunting about the streets. of the sin of lying i thought nothing. i was a sailor, caring little for aught but present gratification. the beauty of truth i had never seen; the hatefulness of a lie i had never learned. most gratefully do i acknowledge that divine goodness, which has since effectually taught me both the one and the other.
at cape town there was a small prison, called the “trunk.” to this place those of our number, who were disorderly, were sent, to be closely confined, on no other diet than bread and water, for as many days as the commandant might designate. we always quietly permitted any offender among us to be sent thither without resistance: but when, on one occasion, an attempt was made to confine two of our shipmates unjustly, we gave them a demonstration, which saved us afterwards from any similar attempt.
two of our men had hung out some clothes, they had just washed, in our yard, near their own shed. now, it happened that the doctor to the military stationed at the cape, had an entrance to his office through our yard. the clothes were undesignedly hung across his path, compelling him either to stoop a little in passing, or to ask their removal. he was too proud to adopt either of these peaceful methods, but, with manifest spitefulness, he took out his knife and cut the line, so that the clothes fell into the dirt. the owners, seeing their wet clothing in this condition, broke out into passionate inquiries after the offender. “it was the english doctor,” replied one of our shipmates, who had witnessed the whole affair. this brought forth a volley of sailors’ oaths from the offended parties. the enraged doctor overheard their wrathful ebullitions, and, without further ceremony, ordered the two men to be carried to the “trunk.”
here, then, was a manifest case of injustice. we resolved not to submit to it, let the consequences be what they might. when the sergeant came in for the doctor’s victims, we all turned out in a body, declaring we would all go to the “trunk” together. the sergeant, seeing us in this state of rebellion, called out the whole guard, and ordered them to load and fire upon us. we were not however so easily scared. we shouted, “fire away! you will have but one fire, and then it will be our turn.” at the same time we picked up all the broken glass, sticks, stones, &c., which were within our reach, and stood waiting for their firing as the signal for a general mêlée. the sergeant, seeing our resolution, and wisely considering that our superiority in numbers, might secure us a victory over the handful composing his guard, ordered the soldiers to retire. we never heard any more of the little doctor’s indignation: it probably evaporated, like the moisture from the clothes his petty indignation had thrown to the ground. how insignificant such acts appear, in men professing to be gentlemen!
shortly after this event, we were thrown into confusion and temporary excitement, by the approach of a large party to our prison, at midnight, attended by a band of music. we turned out and rushed to the gate of our yard. the guard turned out likewise, trembling under the impression that our countrymen had captured the town and were coming to give us our liberty. their fears and our wonder were quieted, however, by a speedy discovery of the true character of this midnight party. it was a dutch wedding, coming to the house of the old dutchman, our caterer; the entrance to which being in our yard, the party had to pass directly through our territories; which they did, their band playing the tune of “a free and accepted mason.”
notwithstanding we were in tolerably comfortable circumstances, our confinement soon became exceedingly irksome. we pined for freedom; we longed to get once more where the “old gridiron” floated in fearless triumph. a report of the burning of washington by the british added not a little to our desire. we began to talk of home. this led to other suggestions; these to the formation of plans for our escape. we at length concerted a measure, which was, to break from the prison in the night, disarm and confine the guard, help ourselves to boats, and cut out some large ship, in which we might make our escape to america. the success of this plot, however, was never tested; for, reaching the ears of the commander, the guards were strengthened; the light dragoons ordered out to patrol the harbor; and such other preventive measures adopted, as cut off all hope of forcible escape. our only remedy for this disappointment, was submission, and boasting of what we would have done, had we got into the strife for liberty.
as the period of our imprisonment drew towards a close, we were informed that the rev. george thom, a missionary, was desirous to come and preach to us. some of our men objected, because, they said, he would preach about his king, and they had no desire to hear anything about kings. others said, “let him come; we will hear him with attention, and if we don’t like him we can afterwards stay away. at any rate, don’t let us abuse him; but rather show him that americans know what is good behavior.”
this reply shows the true spirit of the mass of seamen in respect to religion; for though they care little about personal piety, they will not, usually, unless intoxicated, insult a minister. this was once shown in the experience of the eccentric rowland hill; when a mob threatened the old gentleman with mischief, some sailors present rallied round him, threatening vengeance on any who dared to insult the preacher.
accordingly, we sent our respects to mr. thom, inviting him to favor us with a visit. we then cleaned and fitted up one room with benches. the following sabbath he came. his preaching was earnest, simple and interesting. instead of discoursing about kings, as some had predicted, the only king about whom he preached, was the king of heaven. we invited him to come again. he accepted the invitation, and our meetings soon began to be profitable and interesting. we had singing, for several of our men were tolerable singers, and they were aided by the presence of some pious soldiers from the garrison, and occasionally by mrs. thom, the amiable lady of our excellent preacher. our officers, too, frequently came from their residence, and were pleased to see the good order and happiness apparent on these occasions. i assure my readers, that the most delightful moments of our imprisonment were those we spent in singing some sweet hymn, in the good old-fashioned tunes of bridgewater, russia, wells, &c.
among the texts used by mr. thom, i remember the following: “turn ye to the strong-hold, ye prisoners of hope;” zech. ix. 12. “behold, i stand at the door and knock,” &c.; rev. iii. 20. “and yet there is room;” luke xiv. 22. it was really pleasing to hear the various remarks made by our men, after listening to faithful discourses from these and similar texts. one would remark, “he hit me a clew.” to this another would reply, “he shot away my colors.” a third would add, “he shot away my rigging;” while a fourth would say, “he gave me a shot;” and a fifth, “he gave me a broadside.” thus, in their rough way, did they express the impressions made on their minds by the discourse.
mr. thom was a faithful servant of his master, the lord jesus christ. he did not rest satisfied with these public efforts, but, during the week, he visited us for the purpose of serious conversation. several of us were really under strong conviction, and would confess, at these inquiry meetings, and to each other as we paced the yard, how often we had sinned, even cursing our maker when on the yard at night, amid the roaring of the storm, the bellowing of the thunder, and the angry flashing of the lightning. a happy practical effect followed. gambling ceased, cards and shake-bag lost their charms. the time was spent in reading useful books. bibles and religious books were given or loaned to us. among these were baxter’s call, doddridge’s rise and progress of religion, &c. to some extent we were altered men. had we remained much longer under these gracious influences, most of us, i think, would have become experimental christians. as it was, the seed was not wholly wasted. impressions were made, which, no doubt, have, in many cases, yielded rich fruit long before this.
my own mind was strongly wrought upon. a singular dream added to my seriousness. in my dream, i saw myself drowning, while a fierce-looking soldier was pointing his loaded musket at my head. thus death threatened me from two sources. in this extremity my anguish was very great. all my gracious opportunities passed before me, but now it seemed too late for salvation. “oh,” thought i in my sleep, “what would i give, if this were only a dream! how faithfully would i serve the lord when i awoke.” just at that moment i did awake, scarcely able to convince myself that the ideal scene was not an awful reality. that day i eagerly sought the missionary, and sat with serious delight listening to his instructions. still i did not give myself up to the service of christ. so difficult was it for me to make the requisite sacrifice of my beloved sins.
just at this interesting crisis, a glad report of peace between england and america reached our prison. with joyful faces we assembled round the good man, when he came that day, to inquire if it was really so. while he assured us of its truth, he mildly asked “if it was peace with heaven;” assuring us that it was a matter of the greatest importance for us to be at peace with god.
as a memento of our esteem for mr. thom, we made him several little presents. one of them was a hat made from a bullock’s horn. the horn was peeled into narrow slips, these were scraped, split, and braided like straw, and then sewed together. we also made him a model of a ship, fully rigged from stem to stern. the missionary received these marks of our regard with evident pleasure; and, no doubt, when looking upon them afterwards, offered many a prayer for the salvation of the prisoners, who were, for many weeks, the subjects of his anxiety and labors. blessings rest on him, if he yet lives! peace to his ashes, if he slumbers among the dead!
great was the joy of my companions, when the news reached us that we were to embark shortly, in the cumberland, seventy-four, for england. little was now said or done, except what related to our departure. with strange, yet common perversity of conduct, serious matters were laid aside for the one absorbing thought, “we shall soon be free!” thus, an event which should have given birth to gratitude and religious service, only served for an occasion of further neglect and unthankfulness. how strangely wicked is the human heart!
for myself, the tidings filled me with fear. directly to america i would have gladly gone; but to be carried to england, in one of her ships of war, was like going to certain death. how was it possible for me to escape detection? how could i avoid meeting with some old macedonians, who would, of course, recognise and betray me? these questions had resolved me to volunteer to remain at the cape, a short time before, when some of our number were sent to england. now, they tortured me beyond endurance. i felt like an escaped criminal with the officers of justice at his heels. death at the yard-arm haunted me day and night, like the fancied ghost of a murdered man, staring ghastly at the window of his murderer. no one can imagine my uneasiness, unless he has been placed in a similar situation. i made many promises to god that if he would carry me in safety to america, i would cease to be a swearer, and would most punctually attend his house every sabbath. these things constituted my highest ideas of human duty at that time; but even these promises, like those made during the heat of the battle in the macedonian, were made to be broken.
after a little delay, we were conveyed on board the cumberland, where we soon heard the well-known summons of “all hands up anchor, ahoy!” a cloud of canvas dropped from her gigantic yards; the sportive breeze came obedient to our wish; and the huge form of the cumberland, accompanied by a large convoy of merchant vessels, was borne rapidly along upon the yielding waves. cape town, table mountain, the lion’s rump, and our prison-yard, were soon left far behind, leaving no traces of their existence on the distant horizon; they were to be known to us hereafter only among the images of the brain—as recollections, not as realities. we had spent eight months in the prison of cape town.
our treatment in this ship was superior to what we received in the medway. instead of the cable tier, we had berths on the upper gun deck, and our allowance of food was sufficient for our wants.
arriving at st. helena, we remained a few days in port. this rough, rock-bound island had not yet received its future prisoner, the emperor of france. here we were removed from the cumberland. twenty-four of us were sent on board the grampus, of fifty guns, the rest were sent home in our old conqueror, the medway; my lot being cast among the former.
this transfer to the grampus greatly alarmed me; since the more men i saw, the greater, of course, was my chance of detection. i had already escaped being known on board of two seventy-fours; but i could not promise myself the same impunity much longer. however, as i saw no one whose face was familiar, when i went on board, i felt a little more easy. but that night, i had occasion for great trepidation and alarm. about nine o’clock, i heard the order from an officer, of “pass the word for the boy leech.” this was followed by several voices hallooing, “boy leech! boy leech!” my heart beat like a trip-hammer against my bosom, and a cold sweat crept over my whole body. my shipmates said they meant me; but i would not reply. after a few moments, i breathed more freely, and the fear of death passed away. i heard some one saying, “your master wants you;” which convinced me that there was a “boy leech” among the crew of the grampus, as well as another boy leech among the american prisoners.
on our passage, we made a strange sail. coming up to her, to our infinite satisfaction we beheld the stars and stripes at her mast-head. “brother jonathan has come to town,” said one of our men. “he is a most welcome visitor,” the rest replied; for indeed “the old gridiron” never looked so pleasant as it did then. this meeting confirmed us in the report of peace between the two nations. this was as gratifying to the crew of the grampus as to us; for they had recently heard that the war with france was ended, and they were all hoping to get discharged. this expectation was defeated, however, by intelligence from some passing ship, that napoleon was at paris again, with a force of sixty thousand men.
nothing could exceed the joy of the officers, and the vexation of the crew, at this piece of information. the former dreaded a peace, because it would place many of them on half-pay; while the chances of war inspired them with hopes of promotion; hence they ran alongside almost every ship in the fleet, shouting, “have you heard the news? bonaparte has got to paris with sixty thousand men!” really, some of them seemed crazy with joy at the idea of protracted war. not so, however, the seamen; they longed for peace, since war only brought them hard usage, wounds and death. while, therefore, the officers were rejoicing, they were muttering curses and oaths, wishing bonaparte and his army at perdition. nor was it strange that they felt thus; for the discipline on board the grampus was excessively severe. they were constantly flogging in the most harsh and cruel manner. the sirens were astonished at what they saw; for on board our brig, we seldom saw more than a dozen lashes inflicted at one time, and that not very often.
at last we came in sight of the white cliffs of old england. to avoid suspicion, i appeared much interested in everything i saw on the coast, and asked the men all those questions which are natural to a stranger, when he sees a new country for the first time. these inquiries they answered with the utmost good humor; for an englishman is proud of his country, notwithstanding he may find hard usage from her hands.
my american friends have frequently asked if my language did not excite suspicion that i was english. it never did to my knowledge; indeed, so free was i from english provincialisms, that it was often remarked to me, that i “needed no protection;” meaning, that i should be taken for a yankee, without offering proof.
with all this in my favor, i could not behold myself approaching my native soil, without many misgivings. to a man who knows a halter is hanging over his head, everything furnishes cause for alarm; a piercing look, a whisper, or the sudden mention of his name, is a cause of disquietude, sufficient to stir his inmost soul. captain nicholson gave me no little uneasiness, by sending for me one day, just before we arrived in port, to make some inquiries about mr. crowninshield, of salem, mass. luckily, i could say i had seen him; beyond that, i could give no further information. he supposed me to be a native of salem, while i was quaking, through a fearful expectation of being found nearly as ignorant of that city, as i had been, on another occasion, of the city of philadelphia.
at length we reached spithead, and were removed to an old prison-ship, called the puissant, which had once belonged to the french. here we were treated with great lenity; we were even allowed liberty to go on shore. had i dared, i would have run away; the dread of the halter restrained me! i did not even venture to write, lest my mother should be tempted to visit me, or even to write; since even a letter from any place in england, might awaken suspicion concerning my true character.
after a stay of several weeks in the old puissant, orders came for our transfer to the rover, a gun-brig, which had orders to carry us to plymouth. here was a double risk again before me. i had to risk being known by the crew of the rover, and by the many persons who had known me at plymouth. however, the good hand of providence was with me to preserve me. we reached our port in safety, where, to our great delight, we heard that the woodrop simms, of philadelphia, was to be the cartel to convey us to america.
before we were allowed to tread her decks, however, we had to spend two or three days on board the royal sovereign, of one hundred and ten guns, because the woodrop simms was not quite ready to receive us. here i was exposed to the gaze of eight hundred men; but none of them knew me. indeed, this was my most hazardous situation; for the sovereign and macedonian had sailed in company before the capture of the latter. whenever any of her men came near our quarters, i endeavored to look cross-eyed, or closed one eye so as to appear partially blind; and in various other ways altered my appearance, so that even an old shipmate would have been puzzled to recognise me at first.
at last, the grateful news reached us that the cartel was ready. we went on board with great gaiety, where we met our shipmates who had left the cape before us. they had been confined in the celebrated dartmoor prison, with a number of other prisoners, where they had met with rather rough treatment and rougher fare. they were present at what they called the massacre. several of the prisoners were detected in an effort to escape. to strike terror into the poor victims, captain shortland ordered his men to fire in upon them. quite a number were killed, and more wounded, by this cold-blooded act; the rest sought the shelter of the prison walls. several americans suffered in this wanton assault. our meeting at this juncture was a source of mutual gratulation.
our ship was now surrounded with boats containing provisions of all descriptions. to our surprise, the dartmoor men bought freely of everything. where they obtained their money, we could not imagine. we learned afterwards that their stock consisted of counterfeit coins, manufactured by the prisoners! it was well for them that our ship put to sea before john bull’s peace officers received information of the fraud. what a school for every species of vice is opened by war! the corruptions and vices occasioned by the operation of this system, are beyond the power of the imagination to conceive.
my feelings were peculiar as i beheld my native land receding from my vision. i was happy, and yet sad. happy, because i was now safe; sad, because i was again leaving the soil which held my mother and my friends. on the whole, my joyous feelings prevailed.
a few days out, we were hailed by an english frigate. she sent a boat alongside to make some inquiries, and left us to pursue our way in peace. we were all in good spirits; our men being divided into watches to assist the crew of the ship; our officers all snugly quartered in the cabin, and myself appointed to assist the steward; an office quite agreeable to one who had lived on prisoners’ fare more than a year, because it brought me a few of the spare luxuries from the officers’ table.
one morning, shortly after the english frigate had boarded us, captain nicholson asked me something about salem. i smiled. he inquired why i laughed. “sir,” said i, “salem is not my native place by considerable.”
“what do you mean?” asked the captain, looking somewhat puzzled at my manner of treating the subject.
i then unfolded the secret of my having been one of the crew captured in the macedonian. they seemed amazed at the risks i had encountered since the capture of the siren, and congratulated me very warmly on my really hair-breadth escape from the halter. it was a fortunate escape indeed, for which i can never be sufficiently thankful to that all-seeing eye, that watched for my safety in the moment of peril.
during this voyage, a great deal was said about quitting the seas and settling down in quietness ashore. one of our shipmates, named william carpenter, who belonged to rhode island, had a particular enthusiasm in favor of farming. he promised to take me with him, where i could learn the art of cultivating the soil. many of us made strong resolutions to embark in some such enterprise. the pleasures of agriculture were sung and praised among us in so ardent a manner, that he must have been incredulous indeed, who could have doubted, for a moment, the certainty of quite a number of our hands becoming farmers, whenever we should gain the land.
one night we lay in our hammocks, talking with great earnestness about our favorite scheme, the wind blowing quite freshly on deck. said one, “if i ever get home, you won’t catch me on board of a ship again.” “yes,” said another; “farmers live well, at any rate. they are not put on allowance, but have enough to eat: if they work hard all day, they can turn in at night; and if it blows hard, the house won’t rock much, and there’s no sails to reef.” while this and similar conversation was going on, the wind was blowing harder and harder: from occasional heavy puffs, it at last grew to be a tremendous gale. hearing so much wind, though there were hands enough on deck to manage the ship, some of us got up to assist if we were needed. it was now blowing most fearfully; the wild howling and whistling among the rigging, the wilder roar of the angry sea, the hallooing of the captain, and the impenetrable darkness which lent its horrors to the scene, were appalling even to a sailor’s breast. just as i stepped upon deck she shipped a heavy sea, which drenched me to the skin. presently, we heard the crash of falling timbers, and away went a top-mast, and a yard in the slings. there were now so many men on deck that we were in each other’s way; some of us went below and turned in, with the full expectation that our ship would founder before morning; and thinking it would be as well to go down in our hammocks as on deck.
while this state of gloomy foreboding continued, some of my shipmates manifested great alarm about eternity. they prayed aloud, in deep distress. others only cursed, and said, as if in bravado, “we are all going to hell together.” for my own part i kept repeating the lord’s prayer, and renewing those promises so often made in the moment of apparent destruction.
at length the day dawned, revealing the sad havoc made by the winds, of our masts and rigging. we also saw a number of those dwellers on the ocean, called mother carey’s chickens. our shattered aspect reminded me of the macedonian after the battle, excepting that we had no wounded and dead about us now. captain jones, who had not left the deck a moment during the night, declared that, though he had been twenty-five years at sea, he had never witnessed such a gale before. our ship was nearly new, and an excellent sea-boat, or she would have shared the fate of many a ship in that terrible gale. as the wind abated with the approach of day, we repaired our damages and proceeded on our voyage, frequently passing vessels which had suffered as severely as ourselves. this gale was on the 9th and 10th days of august, 1815. probably many, both sailors and landsmen, will recollect this and the september gale of that year, which occasioned such destruction of life and shipping.
sailors are superstitious. our men attributed this mishap to the presence of some jonah in the ship. the man they pitched upon, as the probable offender, was an old sea-captain, who had been cast away several times. that he had done some fearful deed, was a matter of undoubted truth among them; but not being so resolute as the mariners of tarshish, they did not cast him into the sea; neither did this liberality on their part cost us our lives, for, after several days of pleasant weather, we one morning found ourselves safely anchored at the quarantine ground, near the city of new york.
the crew of the siren having obtained leave to go on shore, full of my good purposes to lead a steady life on the land, i hurried directly to broadway, to inquire for my former employer, the kind-hearted boot-maker. to my disappointment, he had gone to philadelphia; so that i returned on board, somewhat chagrined at the failure of my plan.
the next morning we were conveyed, in a large sail-boat, on board the tom bowling, an hermaphrodite brig. here i was congratulated by the old quartermaster, lewis deal, who was with me when we narrowly escaped capture at the mouth of salem harbor, while on a fishing excursion. he said he had felt much anxiety for my safety all the voyage, especially as it was reported that my former captain had made strict search for the macedonians among all the american prisoners who were carried to england. the kind-hearted old man wept tears of gladness at my safe return.
while we staid in the tom bowling, the september gale, mentioned above, took place. we were right glad, as it broke its fury over our anchorage in vain, to think we were so safely housed in a good harbor, instead of being exposed to its wrath on the deep. many a brave heart perished in that memorable storm.
the two years having expired for which we shipped, we were paid off. with the sum of one hundred dollars, i hurried on shore and deposited my funds in the hands of my landlord, at a sailor’s boarding-house. now followed a life of dissipation and folly. the grave resolutions, passed at sea, to settle down as steady farmers, vanished into air. drinking, swearing, gambling, going to the theatre, and other kindred vices, took up all our time as long as our money lasted. our religious vows were equally slighted and forgotten: instead of being better, we became worse than ever. we felt as if new york belonged to us, and that we were really the happiest, jolliest fellows in the world.
for my own part, i fell deeper into wickedness than ever before: drinking, swearing, and gambling as i had never done on any former occasion. how could it be otherwise? who cared for the sailor then? not one. he was left to his own depraved heart’s promptings. bethels and religious boarding-houses did not then throw their genial influences round his path, to charm his footsteps to the shrines of virtue and religion. near the very spot where the bethel church now stands in new york, i have frequently gambled for hours, with a bottle of spirits on the table, uncaring and uncared for by any human being. thrice blessed be the man who first established bethels and temperance boarding-houses! they are the sailor’s life-boats, which snatch him from the gory jaws of the unprincipled landsharks who fatten on his ruin.
sometimes, in a sober moment, i thought i would break away from this wicked mode of life. i even engaged myself to a boot-maker, to complete my knowledge of his business; but, the dread of the confinement to the shoe-bench, which my riotous fancy painted as being worse than a prison, drove me from my purpose, and left me still among my shipmates.
at last my landlord told me my money was all expended, and that i must look out for something to do. my shipmates were in a similar dilemma, their number decreasing every day, as one after another shipped in the various merchant vessels preparing for sea. alas! for our farmers in perspective. their dreams of ploughing the land evaporated, leaving them what they were before, and what most of them remained until death, the ploughmen of the ocean. my landlord’s gentle hint put a stop to my excesses, for the very sufficient reason that it was attended with a protest on my further checks for funds. for a while, i found employment in loading and unloading ships, and in assisting to fit them for sea. but this proving an uncertain employment, i was induced to join a number of my fellow-boarders in going to the rendezvous of the united states brig boxer. here we shipped for two years more. i was then eighteen years of age, and was rated as an ordinary seaman, with ten dollars per month wages. behold me then, dear reader, once more on board a man of war, in spite of all the dangers i had escaped, and the promises i had made to risk myself no more on the ocean! the next chapter will unfold the events which transpired while i sailed in the boxer.