 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
On Sunday, I wrote part of a letter to sister Shaw,
since which I have not used my pen, even in my
journal. Monday we had a fair wind, but too much
to be able to write, as it was right aft, and we pitched
exceedingly, which is a motion more disagreeable
to me than the rocking, though less fatiguing. On
Tuesday a calm. Should you not suppose that in a
calm we at least had the satisfaction of lying still?
Alas! it is far otherwise, as my flesh and bones
witness; a calm generally succeeds a storm or a
fresh breeze; the sea has a great swell after the
wind is silent, so that the ship lies entirely at the
mercy of the waves, and is knocked from side to side
with a force you can form no idea of without experience.
I have been more wearied and worn out
with the motion and exercise of a calm than in riding
fifty miles in a day. We have had three days
in succession nearly calm; the first is the most
troublesome, as the motion of the sea subsides in a
degree. It is, however, a great trial of one's patience,
to think yourself within a few days of your
desired port, to look at it as the promised land, and
yet to be held fast;
In what far distant region of the sky,
Hushed in deep silence, sleep you when 't is calm?"
I begin to think, that a calm is not desirable in any
situation in life. Every object is most beautiful in
motion; a ship under sail, trees gently agitated with
in point. Man was made for action and for
bustle too, I believe. I am quite out of conceit with
calms. I have more reason for it, too, than many
others, for the dampness of the ship has for several
days threatened me with the rheumatism: and yesterday
morning I was seized with it in good earnest.
I could not raise my head, nor get out of bed without
assistance. I had a good deal of fever, and was
very sick. I was fearful of this before I came to
sea, and had proper medicine put up, which the
doctor administered. What with that, good nursing
and rubbing, flannel, &c., I am able to-day to sit up
in my bed and write, as you see. To-day we have
a small wind, but 't is right ahead. This is still
mortifying, but what we had reason to expect. Patience,
patience, patience, is the first, second, and
third virtue of a seaman, or, rather, as necessary to
him as to a statesman. Three days' good wind
would give us land.
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |