University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

Our passage out in the Delaware was very rough, the
ship rolling heavily. It was the first time she had been at
sea, and it required some little time to get her trim and sailing.
She turned out, however, to be a good vessel; sailing
fairly, steering well, and proving an excellent sea-boat. We
went into Algesiras, where we lay only twenty-four hours.
We then sailed for Mahon, but were met by orders off the
port, to proceed to Leghorn and land our passengers. I
have been told this was done on account of the Princess of
Musignano's being a daughter of the ex-King of Spain, and
it was not thought delicate to bring her within the territory
of the reigning king. I have even heard that the commodore
was offered an order of knighthood for the delicacy he
manifested on this occasion, which offer he declined accepting,
as a matter of course.

The ship had a good run from off Mahon to Leghorn,
where we anchored in the outer roads. We landed the passengers
the afternoon of the day we arrived. That very
night it came on to blow heavily from the northward and
eastward, or a little off shore, according to the best of my
recollection. This was the first time I ever saw preparations
made to send down lower yards, and to house top-masts—
merchantmen not being strong-handed enough to cut such
capers with their sticks. We had three anchors ahead, if
not four, the ship labouring a good deal. We lost one man
from the starboard forechains, by his getting caught in the
buoy-rope, as we let go a sheet-anchor. The poor fellow
could not be picked up, on account of the sea and the darkness
of the night, though an attempt was made to save him.

The next day the weather moderated a little, and we got
under way for Mahon. Our passage down was pleasant,
and this time we went in. Captain Downes now left us, and

Commodore Crane hoisted his broad-pennant on board us.
The ship now lay a long time in port. The commodore
went aloft in one of the sloops, and was absent several
months. I was told he was employed in making a treaty
with the Turks, but us poor Jacks knew little of such matters.
On his return, there was a regular blow-up with the
first-lieutenant, who left the ship, to nobody's regret, so far
as I know. Mr. Mix, who had led our party to the lakes in
1812, and was with us in all my lake service, and who was
Mr. Osgood's brother-in-law, now joined us as first-lieutenant.
I had got to be first-captain of the forecastle, a berth
I held to the end of the cruise.

The treatment on board this ship was excellent. The
happiest time I ever spent at sea, was in the Delaware. After
Mr. Mix took Mr. Ramage's place, everybody seemed
contented, and I never knew a better satisfied ship's company.
The third year out, we had a long cruise off Cape
de Gatte, keeping the ship under her canvass quite three
months. We took in supplies at sea, the object being to
keep us from getting rusty. On the fourth of July we had
a regular holiday. At four in the morning, the ship was
close in under the north shore, and we wore off the land.
Sail was then shortened. After this, we had music, and
more saluting and grog. The day was passed merrily, and
I do not remember a fight, or a black eye, in the ship.

I volunteered to go one cruise in the Warren, under Mr.
Byrne. The present Commodore Kearny commanded this
ship, and he took us down to the Rock. The reason of our
volunteering was this. The men-of-war of the Dutch and
the French, rendezvoused at Mahon, as well as ourselves.
The French and our people had several rows ashore.
Which was right and which wrong, I cannot say, as it was
the Java's men, and not the Delaware's, that were engaged
in them, on our side. One of the Javas was run through
the body, and a French officer got killed. It was said the
French suspected us of a design of sending away the man
who killed their officer, and meant to stop the Warren, which
was bound to the Rock on duty. All I know is, that two
French brigs anchored at the mouth of the harbour, and
some of us were called on to volunteer. Forty-five of us
did so, and went on board the sloop.

After the Warren got under way, we went to quarters,
manning both batteries. In this manner we stood down
between the two French brigs, with top-gallant-sails furled
and the courses in the brails. We passed directly between
the two brigs, keeping a broadside trained upon each; but
nothing was said, or done, to us. We anchored first at the
Rock, but next day crossed over to the Spanish coast. In
a short time we returned to Mahon, and we volunteers went
back to the Delaware. The two brigs had gone, but there
was still a considerable French force in port. Nothing came
of the difficulty, however, so far as I could see or hear.

In the season of 1830, the Constellation, Commodore Biddle,
came out, and our ship and Commodore were relieved.
We had a run up as far as Sicily, however, before this took
place, and went off Tripoli. There I saw a wreck, lying
across the bay, that they told me was the bones of the Philadelphia
frigate. We were also at Leghorn, several weeks,
the commodore going to some baths in the neighbourhood,
for his health.

Among other ports, the Delaware visited Carthagena,
Malta, and Syracuse. At the latter place, the ship lay six
weeks, I should think. This was the season of our arrival
out. Here we underwent a course of severe exercise, that
brought the crew up to a high state of discipline. At four
in the morning, we would turn out, and commence our work.
All the manœuvres of unmooring, making sail, reefing, furling,
and packing on her again, were gone through, until the
people got so much accustomed to work together, the great
secret of the efficiency of a man-of-war, that the officer of
the deck was forced to sing out “belay!” before the yards
were up by a foot, lest the men should spring the spars.
When we got through this drill, the commodore told us we
would do, and that he was not ashamed to show us alongside
of anything that floated. I do not pretend to give our
movements in the order in which they occurred, however,
nor am I quite certain what year it was the commodore
went up to Smyrna. On reflection, it may have been later
than I have stated.

Our cruise off Cape de Gatte was one of the last things
we did; and when we came back to Mahon, we took in supplies
for America. We made the southern passage home,

and anchored in Hampton Roads, in the winter of 1831.
I believe the whole crew of the Delaware was sorry when
the cruise was up. There are always a certain number of
'long-shore chaps in a man-of-war, who are never satisfied
with discipline, and the wholesome restraints of a ship; but
as for us old salts, I never heard one give the Delaware a
bad name. We had heard an awful report of the commodore,
who was called a “burster,” and expected sharp times
under him; and his manner of taking possession was of a
nature to alarm us. All hands had been called to receive
him, and the first words he said were “Call all hands to
witness punishment.” A pin might have been heard falling
among us, for this sounded ominous. It was to clear the
brig, only, Captain Downes having left three men in it,
whom he would not release on quitting the vessel. The
offences were serious, and could not be overlooked. These
three chaps got it; but there was only one other man brought
regularly to the gangway while I was in the ship, and he
was under the sentence of a court, and belonged to the Warren.
As soon as the brig was cleared, the commodore told
us we should be treated as we treated others, and then turned
away among the officers. The next day we found we were
to live under a just rule, and that satisfied us. One of the
great causes of the contentment that reigned in the ship, was
the method, and the regularity of the hours observed. The
men knew on what they could calculate, in ordinary times,
and this left them their own masters within certain hours.
I repeat, she was the happiest ship I ever served in, though
I have always found good treatment in the navy.

I can say conscientiously, that were my life to be passed
over again, without the hope of commanding a vessel, it
should be passed in the navy. The food is better, the service
is lighter, the treatment is better, if a man behave himself
at all well, he is better cared for, has a port under his
lee in case of accidents, and gets good, steady, wages, with
the certainty of being paid. If his ship is lost, his wages
are safe; and if he gets hurt, he is pensioned. Then he is
pretty certain of having gentlemen over him, and that is a
great deal for any man. He has good quarters below; and
if he serve in a ship as large as a frigate, he has a cover
over his head, half the time, at least, in bad weather. This

is the honest opinion of one who has served in all sorts of
crafts, liners, Indiamen, coasters, smugglers, whalers, and
transient ships. I have been in a ship of the line, two frigates,
three sloops of war, and several smaller craft; and
such is the result of all my experience in Uncle Sam's navy.
No man can go to sea and always meet with fair-weather;
but he will get as little of foul in one of our vessels of war,
as in any craft that floats, if a man only behave himself. I
think the American merchantmen give better wages than
are to be found in other services; and I think the American
men-of-war, as a rule, give better treatment than the American
merchantman. God bless the flag, I say, and this, too,
without the fear of being hanged!

The Delaware lay two or three weeks in the Roads before
she went up to the Yard. At the latter place we began
to strip the ship. While thus employed, we were told that
seventy-five of us, whose times were not quite out, were to
be drafted for the Brandywine 44, then fitting out at New
York, for a short cruise in the Gulf. This was bad news,
for Jack likes a swing ashore after a long service abroad.
Go we must, and did, however. We were sent round to
New York in a schooner, and found the frigate still lying at
the Yard. We were hulked on board the Hudson until she
was ready to receive us, when we were sent to our new vessel.
Captain Ballard commanded the Brandywine, and
among her lieutenants, Mr. M'Kenny was the first. This
is a fine ship, and she got her name from the battle in
which La Fayette was wounded in this country, having
been first fitted out to carry him to France, after his last
visit to America. She is a first-class frigate, mounting
thirty long thirty-two's on her gun-deck; and I conceive it
to be some honour to a sailor to have it in his power to say
he has been captain of the forecastle in such a ship, for I
was rated in this frigate the same as I had been rated in the
Delaware; with this difference, that, for my service in the
Brandywine, I received my regular eighteen dollars a month
as a petty officer; whereas, though actually captain of the
Delaware's forecastle for quite two years, and second-captain
nearly all the rest of the time I was in the ship, I never got
more than seaman's wages, or twelve dollars a month. I
do not know how this happened, though I supposed it to

have arisen from some mistake connected with the circumstance
that I was paid off for my services in the Delaware,
by the purser of the frigate. This was in consequence of
the transfer.

The Brandywine sailed in March for the Gulf. Our cruise
lasted about five months, during which time we went to Vera
Cruz, Pensacola, and the Havana. We appeared to me to
be a single ship, as we were never in squadron, and saw no
broad-pennant. No accident happened, the cruise being
altogether pleasant. The ship returned to Norfolk, and
twenty-five of us, principally old Delawares, were discharged,
our times being out. We all of us intended to
return to the frigate, after a cruise ashore, and we chartered a
schooner to carry us to Philadelphia in a body, determining
not to part company.

The morning the schooner sailed, I was leading the whole
party along one of the streets of Norfolk, when I saw something
white lying in the middle of the carriage-way. It
turned out to be an old messmate, Jack Dove, who had been
discharged three days before, and had left us to go to Philadelphia,
but had been brought up by King Grog. While we
were overhauling the poor fellow, who could not speak, his
landlady came out to us, and told us that he had eat nothing
for three days, and did nothing but drink. She begged us
to take care of him, as he disregarded all she said. This
honest woman gave us Jack's wages to a cent, for I knew
what they had come to; and we made a collection of ten
dollars for her, calculating that Jack must have swallowed
that much in three days. Jack we took with us, bag and
hammock; but he would eat nothing on the passage, calling
out constantly for drink. We gave him liquor, thinking it
would do him good; but he grew worse, and, when we
reached Philadelphia, he was sent to the hospital. Here, in
the course of a few days, he died.

Never, in all my folly and excesses, did I give myself so
much up to drink, as when I reached Philadelphia this time.
I was not quite as bad as Jack Dove, but I soon lost my
appetite, living principally on liquor. When we heard of
Jack's death, we proposed among ourselves to give him a
sailor's funeral. We turned out, accordingly, to the number
of a hundred, or more, in blue jackets and white trowsers,

and marched up to the hospital in a body. I was one of the
leaders in this arrangement, and felt much interest in it, as
Jack had been my messmate; but, the instant I saw his
coffin, a fit of the “horrors” came over me, and I actually
left the place, running down street towards the river, as if
pursued by devils. Luckily, I stopped to rest on the stoop
of a druggist. The worthy man took me in, gave me some
soda water, and some good advice. When a little strengthened,
I made my way home, but gave up at the door. Then
followed a severe indisposition, which kept me in bed for a
fortnight, during which I suffered the torments of the damned.

I have had two or three visits from the “horrors,” in the
course of my life, but nothing to equal this attack. I came
near following Jack Dove to the grave; but God, in His
mercy, spared me from such an end. It is not possible for
one who has never experienced the effects of his excesses, in
this particular form, to get any correct notions of the sufferings
I endured. Among other conceits, I thought the colour
which the tar usually leaves on seamen's nails, was the sign
that I had the yellow fever. This idea haunted me for days,
and gave me great uneasiness. In short, I was like a man
suspended over a yawning chasm, expecting, every instant,
to fall and be dashed to pieces, and yet, who could not die.

For some time after my recovery, I could not bear the
smell of liquor; but evil companions lured me back to my
old habits. I was soon in a bad way again, and it was only
owing to the necessity of going to sea, that I had not a
return of the dreadful malady. When I shipped in the
Delaware, I had left my watch, quadrant, and good clothes,
to the value of near two hundred dollars, with my present
landlord, and he now restored them all to me, safe and
sound. I made considerable additions to the stock of clothes,
and when I again went to sea, left the whole, and more, with
the same landlord.

Our plan of going back to the Brandywine was altered by
circumstances; and a party of us shipped in the Monongahela,
a Liverpool liner, out of Philadelphia. The cabin of
this vessel was taken by two gentlemen, going to visit
Europe, viz.: Mr. Hare Powell and Mr. Edward Burd; and
getting these passengers, with their families, on board, the
ship sailed. By this time, I had pretty much given up the

hope of preferment, and did not trouble myself whether I
lived forward or aft. I joined the Monongahela as a forward
hand, therefore, quite as well satisfied as if her chief mate.

We left the Delaware in the month of August, and, a
short time out, encountered one of the heaviest gales of wind
I ever witnessed at sea. It came on from the eastward, and
would have driven us ashore, had not the wind suddenly
shifted to south-west. The ship was lying-to, under bare
poles, pressed down upon the water in such a way that she
lay almost as steady as if in a river; nor did the force of
the wind allow the sea to get up. A part of the time, our
lee lower yard-arms were nearly in the water. We had
everything aloft, but sending them down was quite out of
the question. It was not possible, at one time, for a man to
go aloft at all. I tried it myself, and could with difficulty
keep my feet on the ratlins. I make no doubt I should have
been blown out of the top, could I have reached it, did I let
go my hold to do any work.

We had sailed in company with the Kensington, a corvette
belonging to the Emperor of Russia, and saw a ship, during
the gale, that was said to be she. The Kensington was dismasted,
and had to return to refit, but we did not part a
rope-yarn. When the wind shifted, we were on soundings;
and, it still continuing to blow a gale, we set the main-topsail
close-reefed, and the fore-sail, and shoved the vessel off
the land at the rate of a steam-boat. After this, the wind
favoured us, and our passage out was very short. We
stayed but a few days in Liverpool; took in passengers, and
got back to Philadelphia, after an absence of a little more
than two months. The Kensington's report of the gale, and
of our situation, had caused much uneasiness in Philadelphia,
but our two passages were so short, that we brought
the news of our safety.

I now inquired for the Brandywine, but found she had
sailed for the Mediterranean. It was my intention to have
gone on board her, but missing this ship, and a set of officers
that I knew, I looked out for a merchantman. I found
a brig called the Amelia, bound to Bordeaux, and shipped
in her before the mast.

The Amelia had a bad passage out. It was in the autumn,
and the brig leaked badly. This kept us a great

deal at the pumps, an occupation that a sailor does anything
but delight in. I am of opinion that pumping a leaky
ship is the most detestable work in the world. Nothing but
the dread of drowning ought to make a man do it, although
some men will pump to save their property. As for myself,
I am not certain I would take twenty-four hours of hard
pumping to save any sum I shall probably ever own, or ever
did own.

After a long passage, we made the Cordovan, but, the
wind blowing heavy off the land, we could not get in for
near a fortnight. Not a pilot would come out, and if they
had, it would have done us no good. After a while, the
wind shifted, and we got into the river, and up to the town.
We took in a return cargo of brandy, and sailed for Philadelphia.
Our homeward-bound passage was long and
stormy, but we made the capes, at last. Here we were
boarded by a pilot, who told us we were too late; the Delaware
had frozen up, and we had to keep away, with a
south-east wind, for New York. We had a bad time of it,
as soon as night came on. The gale increased, blowing
directly into the bight, and we had to haul up under close-reefed
topsails and reefed foresail, to claw off the land.
The weather was very thick, and the night dark, and all
we could do was to get round, when the land gave us a
hint it was time. This we generally did in five fathoms
water. We had to ware, for the brig would not tack under
such short canvass, and, of course, lost much ground in so
doing. About three in the morning we knew that it was
nearly up with us. The soundings gave warning of this,
and we got round, on what I supposed would be the Amelia's
last leg. But Providence took care of us, when we could
not help ourselves. The wind came out at north-west, as
it might be by word of command; the mist cleared up, and
we saw the lights, for the first time, close aboard us. The
brig was taken aback, but we got her round, shortened sail,
and hove her to, under a closed-reefed main-topsail. We
now got it from the north-west, making very bad weather.
The gale must have set us a long way to leeward, as we
did not get in for a fortnight. We shipped a heavy sea,
that stove our boat, and almost swept the decks. We were
out of pork and beef, and our fire-wood was nearly gone.

The binnacle was also gone. As good luck would have it,
we killed a porpoise, soon after the wind shifted, and on
this we lived, in a great measure, for more than a week,
sometimes cooking it, but oftener eating it raw. At length
the wind shifted, and we got in.

I was no sooner out of this difficulty, than a hasty temper
got me into another. While still in the stream, an Irish
boatman called me a “Yankee son of a —,” and I lent
him a clip. The fellow sued me, and, contriving to catch
me before I left the vessel, I was sent to jail, for the first and
only time in my life. This turned out to be a new and very
revolting school for me. I was sent among as precious a
set of rascals as New York could furnish. Their conversation
was very edifying. One would tell how he cut the
hoses of the engines at fires, with razor-blades fastened to
his shoes; another, how many pocket-books he and his
associates had taken at this or that fire; and a third, the
manner of breaking open stores, and the best mode of disposing
of stolen goods. The cool, open, impudent manner
in which these fellows spoke of such transactions, fairly
astounded me. They must have thought I was in jail for
some crime similar to their own, or they would not have
talked so freely before a stranger. These chaps seemed to
value a man by the enormity and number of his crimes.

At length the captain and my landlord found out where I
had been sent, and I was immediately bailed. Glad enough
was I to get out of prison, and still more so to get out of the
company I found in it. Such association is enough to undermine
the morals of a saint, in a week or two. And yet these
fellows were well dressed, and well enough looking, and
might very well pass for a sort of gentlemen, with those who
had seen but little of men of the true quality.

I had got enough of law, and wished to push the matter
no farther. The Irishman was sent for, and I compromised
with him on the spot. The whole affair cost me my entire
wages, and I was bound over to keep the peace, for, I do not
know how long. This scrape compelled me to weigh my
anchor at a short notice, as there is no living in New York
without money. I went on board the Sully, therefore—a
Havre liner—a day or two after getting out of the atmosphere
of the City Hall. They may talk of Batavia, if they

please; but, in my judgment, it is the healthiest place of the
two.

Our passages, out and home, produced nothing worth
mentioning, and I left the ship in New York. My wages
went in the old way, and then I shipped in a schooner called
the Susan and Mary, that was about to sail for Buenos Ayres,
in the expectation that she would be sold there. The craft
was a good one, though our passage out was very long. On
reaching our port, I took my discharge, under the impression
the vessel would be sold. A notion now came over me, that
I would join the Buenos Ayrean navy, in order to see what
sort of a service it was. I knew it was a mixed American
and English affair, and, by this time, I had become very
reckless as to my own fate. I wished to do nothing very
wrong, but was incapable of doing anything that was very
right.

My windfall carried me on board a schooner, of eight or
ten guns, called the Suradaha. I did not ship, making an
arrangement by which I was to be left to decide for myself,
whether I would remain in her, or not. Although a pretty
good craft, I soon got enough of this service. In one week
I was thoroughly disgusted, and left the schooner. It is well
I did, as there was a “revolution” on board of her, a few
days later, and she was carried up the river, and, as I was
told, was there sunk. With her, sunk all my laurels in that
service.

The Susan and Mary was not sold, but took in hides for
New York. I returned to her, therefore, and we sailed for
home in due time. The passage proved long, but mild, and
we were compelled to run in, off Point Petre, Gaudaloupe,
where we took in some provisions. After this, nothing occurred
until we reached New York.

I now shifted the name of my craft, end for end, joining
a half-rigged brig, called the Mary and Susan. I gained
little by the change, this vessel being just the worst-looking
hooker I did ever sail in. Still she was tight, strong enough,
and not a very bad sailing vessel. But, for some reason
or other, externals were not regarded, and we made anything
but a holiday appearance on the water. I had seen
the time when I would disdain to go chief-mate of such

a looking craft; but I now shipped in her as a common
hand.

We sailed for Para, in Brazil, a port nearly under the
line, having gunpowder, dry-goods, &c. Our passage, until
we came near the coast of South America, was good, and
nothing occurred to mention. When under the line, however,
we made a rakish-looking schooner, carrying two topsails,
one forenoon. We made no effort to escape, knowing
it to be useless. The schooner set a Spanish ensign, and
brought us to. We were ordered to lower our boat and to
go on board the schooner, which were done. I happened
to be at the helm, and remained in the Mary and Susan.
The strangers ordered our people out of the boat, and sent
an armed party in her, on board us. These men rummaged
about for a short time, and then were hailed from their vessel
to know if we promised well. Our looks deceived the
head man of the boarders, who answered that we were very
poor. On receiving this information, the captain of the
schooner ordered his boarding party to quit us. Our boat
came back, but was ordered to return and bring another
gang of the strangers. This time we were questioned about
canvass, but got off by concealing the truth. We had thirty
bolts on board, but produced only one. The bolt shown did
not happen to suit, and the strangers again left us. We
were told not to make sail until we received notice by signal,
and the schooner hauled her wind. After standing on some
time, however, these gentry seemed indisposed to quit us,
for they came down again, and rounded to on our weather-beam.
We were now questioned about our longitude, and
whether we had a chronometer. We gave the former, but
had nothing like the latter on board. Telling us once more
not to make sail without the signal, the schooner left us,
standing on until fairly out of sight. We waited until she
sunk her topsails, and then went on our course.

None of us doubted that this fellow was a pirate. The
men on board us were an ill-looking set of rascals, of all
countries. They spoke Spanish, but we gave them credit
for being a mixture. Our escape was probably owing to
our appearance, which promised anything but a rich booty.
Our dry-goods and powder were concealed in casks under
the ballast, and I suppose the papers were not particularly

minute. At any rate, when we got into Para, most of the
cargo went out of our schooner privately, being landed
from lighters. We had a passenger, who passed for some
revolutionary man, who also landed secretly. This gentleman
was in a good deal of concern about the pirates,
keeping himself hid while they were near us.