University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.

Our passage from Para was good until the brig reached
the latitude of Bermuda. Here, one morning, for the first
time in this craft, Sundays excepted, we got a forenoon
watch below. I was profiting by the opportunity to do a little
work for myself, when the mate, an inexperienced young
man, who was connected with the owners, came and ordered
us up to help jibe ship. It was easy enough to do this in
the watch, but he thought differently. As an old seaman,
I do not hesitate to say that the order was both inconsiderate
and unnecessary; though I do not wish to appear even to
justify my own conduct, on the occasion. A hasty temper
is one of my besetting weaknesses, and, at that time, I was
in no degree influenced by any considerations of a moral
nature, as connected with language. Exceedingly exasperated
at this interference with our comfort, I did not hesitate
to tell the mate my opinion of his order. Warming with
my own complaints, I soon became fearfully profane and
denunciatory. I called down curses on the brig, and all
that belonged to her, not hesitating about wishing that she
might founder at sea, and carry all hands of us to the bottom
of the ocean. In a word, I indulged in all that looseness
and profanity of the tongue, which is common enough
with those who feel no restraints on the subject, and who
are highly exasperated.

I do think the extent to which I carried my curses and
wishes, on this occasion, frightened the officers. They said
nothing, but let me curse myself out, to my heart's content.
A man soon wearies of so bootless a task, and the storm

passed off, like one in the heavens, with a low rumbling. I
gave myself no concern about the matter afterwards, but
things took their course until noon. While the people were
at dinner, the mate came forward again, however, and called
all hands to shorten sail. Going on deck, I saw a very
menacing black cloud astern, and went to work, with a will,
to discharge a duty that everybody could see was necessary.

We gathered in the canvass as fast as we could; but, before
we could get through, and while I was lending a hand
to furl the foresail, the squall struck the brig. I call it a
squall, but it was more like the tail of a hurricane. Most
of our canvass blew from the gaskets, the cloth going in
ribands. The foresail and fore-topsail we managed to save,
but all our light canvass went. I was still aloft when the
brig broached-to. As she came up to the wind, the fore-topmast
went over to leeward, being carried away at the
cap. All the hamper came down, and began to thresh
against the larboard side of the lower rigging. Just at this
instant, a sea seemed to strike the brig under her bilge, and
fairly throw her on her beam-ends.

All this appeared to me to be the work of only a minute.
I had scrambled to windward, to get out of the way of the
wreck, and stood with one foot on the upper side of the bitts,
holding on, to steady myself, by some of the running rigging.
This was being in a very different attitude, but on
the precise spot, where, two or three hours before, I had
called on the Almighty to pour out his vials of wrath upon
the vessel, myself, and all she contained! At that fearful
instant, conscience pricked me, and I felt both shame and
dread, at my recent language. It seemed to me as if I had
been heard, and that my impious prayers were about to be
granted. In the bitterness of my heart, I vowed, should my
life be spared, never to be guilty of such gross profanity,
again.

These feelings, however, occupied me but a moment. I
was too much of a real sea-dog to be standing idle at a time
like that. There was but one man before the mast on whom
I could call for anything in such a strait, and that was a
New Yorker, of the name of Jack Neal. This man was
near me, and I suggested to him the plan of getting the fore-top-mast
staysail loose, notwithstanding the mast was gone,

in the hope it might blow open, and help the brig's bows
round. Jack was a fellow to act, and he succeeded in loosening
the sail, which did blow out in a way greatly to help
us, as I think. I then proposed we should clamber aft, and
try to get the helm up. This we did, also; though I question
if the rudder could have had much power, in the position
in which the brig lay.

Either owing to the fore-top-mast staysail, or to some
providential sea, the vessel did fall off, however, and presently
she righted, coming up with great force, with a heavy
roll to windward. The staysail helped us, I feel persuaded,
as the stay had got taut in the wreck, and the wind had
blown out the hanks. The brig's helm being hard up, as
soon as she got way, the craft flew round like a top, coming
up on the other tack, in spite of us, and throwing her nearly
over again. She did not come fairly down, however, though
I thought she was gone, for an instant.

Finding it possible to move, I now ran forward, and succeeded
in stopping the wreck into the rigging and bitts. At
this time the brig minded her helm, and fell off, coming under
command. To help us, the head of the spencer got loose,
from the throat-brail up, and, blowing out against the wreck,
the whole formed, together, a body of hamper, that acted as
a sort of sail, which helped the brig to keep clear of the
seas. By close attention to the helm, we were enabled to
prevent the vessel from broaching-to again, and, of course,
managed to sail her on her bottom. About sunset, it moderated,
and, next morning, the weather was fine. We then
went to work, and rigged jury-masts; reaching New York
a few days later.

Had this accident occurred to our vessel in the night, as
did that to the Scourge, our fate would probably have been
decided in a few minutes. As it was, half an hour, in the
sort of sea that was going, would have finished her. As for
my repentance, if I can use the term on such an occasion,
and for such a feeling, it was more lasting than thorough.
I have never been so fearfully profane since; and often,
when I have felt the disposition to give way to passion in
this revolting form, my feelings, as I stood by those bitts,
have recurred to my mind—my vow has been remembered,
and I hope, together, they did some good, until I was made

to see the general errors of my life, and the necessity of
throwing all my sins on the merciful interposition of my
Saviour.

I was not as reckless and extravagant, this time, in port,
as I had usually been, of late years. I shipped, before my
money was all gone, on board the Henry Kneeland, for
Liverpool, viâ New Orleans. On reaching the latter port,
all hands of us were beset by the land-sharks, in the shape
of landlords, who told us how much better we should be off
by running, than by sticking by the ship. We listened to
these tales, and went in a body. What made the matter
worse, and our conduct the less excusable, was the fact, that
we got good wages and good treatment in the Henry Kneeland.
The landlords came with two boats, in the night; we
passed our dunnage down to them, and away we went, leaving
only one man on board. The very next day we all shipped
on board the Marian, United States' Revenue Cutter, where I
was rated a quarter-mate, at fifteen dollars a month; leaving
seventeen to obtain this preferment!

We got a good craft for our money, however. She was
a large comfortable schooner, that mounted a few light guns,
and our duty was far from heavy. The treatment turned
out to be good, also, as some relief to our folly. One of
our Henry Kneelands died of the “horrors” before we got
to sea, and we buried him at the watering-place, near the
lower bar. I must have been about four months in the
Marion, during which time we visited the different keys, and
went into Key West. At this place, our crew became
sickly, and I was landed among others, and sent to a boarding-house.
It was near a month before we could get the
crew together again, when we sailed for Norfolk. At Norfolk,
six of us had relapses, and were sent to the hospital;
the cutter sailing without us. I never saw the craft afterwards.

I was but a fortnight in the hospital, the disease being
only the fever and ague. Just as I came out, the Alert, the
New York cutter, came in, and I was sent on board her.
This separated me from all the Henry Kneelands but one
old man. The Alert was bound south, on duty connected
with the nullification troubles; and, soon after I joined her,
she sailed for Charleston, South Carolina. Here a little

fleet of cutters soon collected; no less than seven of us
being at anchor in the waters of South Carolina, to prevent
any breach of the tariff laws. When I had been on board
the Alert about a month, a new cutter called the Jackson,
came in from New York, and being the finest craft on the
station, our officers and crew were transferred to her in a
body; our captain being the senior of all the revenue captains
present.

I must have been at least six months in the waters of South
Carolina, thus employed. We never went to sea, but occasionally
dropped down as far as Rebellion Roads. We
were not allowed to go ashore, except on rare occasions, and
towards the last, matters got to be so serious, that we almost
looked upon ourselves as in an enemy's country.
Commodore Elliott joined the station in the Natchez sloop-of-war,
and the Experiment, man-of-war schooner, also
arrived and remained. After the arrival of the Natchez,
the Commodore took command of all hands of us afloat, and
we were kept in a state of high preparation for service. We
were occasionally at quarters, nights, though I never exactly
knew the reasons. It was said attacks on us were
anticipated. General Scott was in the fort, and matters
looked very warlike, for several weeks.

At length we got the joyful news that nullification had
been thrown overboard, and that no more was to be apprehended.
It seems that the crews of the different cutters
had been increased for this particular service; but, now it
was over, there were more men employed than Government
had needed. We were told, in consequence, that those
among us who wished our discharges, might have them on
application.

I had been long enough in this 'long-shore service, and
applied to be discharged, under this provision. My time
was so near out, however, that I should have got away
soon, in regular course.

I now went ashore at Charleston, and had my swig, as
long as the money lasted. I gave myself no trouble about
the ship's husband, whose collar-bone I had broken; nor do
I now know whether he was then living, or dead. In a
word, I thought only of the present time; the past and the
future being equally indifferent to me. My old landlord

was dead; and I fell altogether into the hands of a new set.
I never took the precaution to change my name, at any
period of my life, with the exception, that I dropped the
Robert, in signing shipping-articles. I also wrote my name
Myers, instead of Meyers, as, I have been informed by my
sister, was the true spelling. But this proceeded from ignorance,
and not from intention. In all times, and seasons,
and weathers, and services, I have sailed as Ned Myers; and
as nothing else.

It soon became necessary to ship again; and I went on
board the Harriet and Jesse, which was bound to Havre de
Grace. This proved to be a pleasant, easy voyage; the
ship coming back to New York filled with passengers, who
were called Swiss; but most of whom, as I understand, came
from Wurtemberg, Alsace, and the countries on the Rhine.
On reaching New York, I went on to Philadelphia, to obtain
the effects I had left there, when I went out in the Amelia.
But my landlord was dead; his family was scattered; and
my property had disappeared. I never knew who got it;
but a quadrant, watch, and some entirely new clothes, went
in the wreck. I suppose I lost, at least, two hundred dollars,
in this way. What odds did it make to me? it would
have gone in grog, if it had not gone in this manner.

I staid but a short time in Philadelphia, joining a brig,
called the Topaz, bound to Havana. We arrived out, after
a short passage; and here I was exposed to as strong a
temptation to commit crime, as a poor fellow need encounter.
A beautiful American-built brig, was lying in port, bound to
Africa, for slaves. She was the loveliest craft I ever laid
eyes on; and the very sight of her gave me a longing to go
in her. She offered forty dollars a month, with the privilege
of a slave and a half. I went so far as to try to get on
board her; but met with some difficulty, in having my things
seized. The captain found it out; and, by pointing out to
me the danger I ran, succeeded in changing my mind.

I will not deny, that I knew the trade was immoral; but
so is smuggling; and I viewed them pretty much as the
same thing, in this sense. I am now told, that the law of
this country pronounces the American citizen, who goes in
a slaver, a pirate; and treats him as such; which, to me,
seems very extraordinary. I do not understand, how a

Spaniard can do that, and be no pirate, which makes an
American a pirate, if he be guilty of it. I feel certain, that
very few sailors know in what light the law views slaving.
Now, piracy is robbing, on the high seas, and has always
been contrary to law; but slaving was encouraged by all
nations, a short time since; and we poor tars look upon the
change, as nothing but a change in policy. As for myself,
I should have gone in that brig, in utter ignorance of the
risks I ran, and believing myself to be about as guilty, in a
moral sense, as I was when I smuggled tobacco, on the
coast of Ireland, or opium in Canton.[1]

As the Topaz was coming out of the port of Havana,
homeward bound, and just as she was abreast of the Moro,
the brig carried away her bobstay. I was busy in helping
to unreeve the stay, when I was seized with sudden and violent
cramps. This attack proved to be the cholera, which
came near carrying me off. The captain had me taken aft,
where I was attended with the greatest care. God be praised
for his mercy! I got well, though scarcely able to do any
more duty before we got in.

A short voyage gives short commons; and I was soon
obliged to look out for another craft. This time I shipped
in the Erie, Captain Funk, a Havre liner, and sailed soon
after. This was a noble ship, with the best of usage. Both
our passages were pleasant, and give me nothing to relate.
While I was at work in the hold, at Havre, a poor female
passenger, who came to look at the ship, fell through the
hatch, and was so much injured as to be left behind. I
mention the circumstance merely to show how near I was
to a meeting with my old shipmate, who is writing these
pages, and yet missed him. On comparing notes, I find he
was on deck when this accident happened, having come to
see after some effects he was then shipping to New York.
These very effects I handled, and supposed them to belong
to a passenger who was to come home in the ship; but, as
they were addressed to another name, I could not recognise
them. Mr. Cooper did not come home in the Erie, but
passed over to England, and embarked at London, and so
I failed to see him.

In these liners, the captains wish to keep the good men of
their crews as long as they can. We liked the Erie and
her captain so much, that eight or ten of us stuck by the
ship, and went out in her again. This time our luck was
not so good. The passage out was well enough, but homeward-bound
we had a hard time of it. While in Havre,

too, we had a narrow escape. Christmas night, a fire broke
out in the cabin, and came near smothering us all, forward,
before we knew anything about it. Our chief mate, whose
name was Everdy,[2] saved the vessel by his caution and
exertions; the captain not getting on board until the fire had
come to a head. We kept everything closed until an engine
was ready, then cut away the deck, and sent down the hose.
This expedient, with a free use of water, saved the ship. It
is not known how the fire originated. A good deal of
damage was done, and some property was lost.

Notwithstanding this accident, we had the ship ready for
sea early in January, 1834. For the first week out, we
met with head winds and heavy weather; so heavy, indeed,
as to render it difficult to get rid of the pilot. The
ship beat down channel with him on board, as low as the
Eddystone. Here we saw the Sully, outward bound, running
up channel before the wind. Signals were exchanged,
and our ship, which was then well off the land, ran in and
spoke the Sully. We put our pilot on board this ship,
which was doing a good turn all round. The afternoon
proving fair, and the wind moderating, Captain Funk filled
and stood in near to the coast, as his best tack. Towards
night, however, the gale freshened, and blew into the bay,
between the Start Point and the Lizard, in a heavy, steady
manner.

The first thing was to ware off shore; after which, we
were compelled to take in nearly all our canvass. The
gale continued to increase, and the night set in dark.
There were plenty of ports to leeward, but it was ticklish
work to lose a foot of ground, unless one knew exactly
where he was going. We had no pilot, and the captain decided
to hold on. I have seldom known it to blow harder
than it did that night; and, for hours, everything depended
on our main-topsail's standing, which sail we had set, close-reefed.
I did not see anything to guide us, but the compass,
until about ten o'clock, when I caught a view of a
light close on our lee bow. This was the Eddystone,
which-stands pretty nearly in a line between the Start and
the Lizard, and rather more than three leagues from the

land. As we headed, we might lay past, should everything
stand; but, if our topsail went, we should have been
pretty certain of fetching up on those famous rocks, where
a three-decker would have gone to pieces in an hour's time
in such a gale.

I suppose we passed the Eddystone at a safe distance, or
the captain would not have attempted going to windward of
it; but, to me, it appeared that we were fearfully near. The
sea was breaking over the light tremendously, and could be
plainly seen, as it flashed up near the lantern. We went
by, however, surging slowly ahead, though our drift must
have been very material.

The Start, and the point to the westward of it, were still
to be cleared. They were a good way off, and but a little
to leeward, as the ship headed. In smooth water, and with
a whole-sail breeze, it would have been easy enough to lay
past the Start, when at the Eddystone, with a south-west
wind; but, in a gale, it is a serious matter, especially on a
flood-tide. I know all hands of us, forward and aft, looked
upon our situation as very grave. We passed several uneasy
hours, after we lost sight of the Eddystone, before we
got a view of the land near the Start. When I saw it, the
heights appeared like a dark cloud hanging over us, and I
certainly thought the ship was gone. At this time, the captain
and mate consulted together, and the latter came to us,
in a very calm, steady manner, and said—“Come, boys;
we may as well go ashore without masts as with them, and
our only hope is in getting more canvass to stand. We
must turn-to, and make sail on the ship.”

Everybody was in motion on this hint, and the first thing
we did was to board fore-tack. The clews of that sail came
down as if so many giants had hold of the tack and sheet.
We set it, double-reefed, which made it but a rag of a sail,
and yet the ship felt it directly. We next tried the fore-topsail,
close-reefed, and this stood. It was well we did, for I
feel certain the ship was now in the ground-swell. That
black hill seemed ready to fall on our heads. We tried the
mizen-topsail, but we found it would not do, and we furled
it again, not without great difficulty. Things still looked
serious, the land drawing nearer and nearer; and we tried
to get the mainsail, double-reefed, on the ship. Everybody

mustered at the tack and sheet, and we dragged down that
bit of cloth as if it had been muslin. The good ship now
quivered like a horse that is over-ridden, but in those liners
everything is strong, and everything stood. I never saw
spray thrown from a ship's bows, as it was thrown from the
Erie's that night. We had a breathless quarter of an hour
after the mainsail was set, everybody looking to see what
would go first. Every rope and bolt in the craft was tried
to the utmost, but all stood! At the most critical moment,
we caught a glimpse of a light in a house that was known
to stand near the Start; and the mate came among us, pointed
it out, and said, if we weathered that, we should go clear.
After hearing this, my eyes were never off that light, and
glad was I to see it slowly drawing more astern, and more
under our lee. At last we got it on our quarter, and knew
that we had gone clear! The gloomy-looking land disappeared
to leeward, in a deep, broad bay, giving us plenty of
sea-room.

We now took in canvass, to ease the ship. The mainsail
and fore-topsail were furled, leaving her to jog along under
the main-topsail, foresail, and fore-topmast staysail. I look
upon this as one of my narrowest escapes from shipwreck;
and I consider the escape, under the mercy of God, to have
been owing to the steadiness of our officers, and the goodness
of the ship and her outfit. It was like pushing a horse to
the trial of every nerve and sinew, and only winning the
race under whip and spur. Wood, and iron, and cordage,
and canvass, can do no more than they did that night.

Next morning, at breakfast, the crew talked the matter
over. We had a hard set in this ship, the men being prime
seamen, but of reckless habits and characters. Some of the
most thoughtless among them admitted that they had prayed
secretly for succour, and, for myself, I am most thankful
that I did. These confessions were made half-jestingly, but
I believe them to have been true, judging from my own case.
It may sound bravely in the ears of the thoughtless and
foolish, to boast of indifference on such occasions; but, few
men can face death under circumstances like those in which
we were placed, without admitting to themselves, however
reluctantly, that there is a Power above, on which they must
lean for personal safety, as well as for spiritual support.

More than usual care was had for the future welfare of sailors
among the Havre liners, there being a mariners' church at
Havre, at which our captain always attended, as well as his
mates; and efforts were made to make us go also. The
effect was good, the men being better behaved, and more
sober, in consequence.

The wind shifted a day or two after this escape, giving
us a slant that carried us past Scilly, fairly out into the Atlantic.
A fortnight or so after our interview with the Eddystone
we carried away the pintals of the rudder, which
was saved only by the modern invention that prevents the
head from dropping, by means of the deck. To prevent the
strain, and to get some service from the rudder, however,
we found it necessary to sling the latter, and to breast it
into the stern-post by means of purchases. A spar was laid
athwart the coach-house, directly over the rudder, and we
rove a chain through the tiller-hole, and passed it over this
spar. For this purpose the smallest chain-cable was used,
the rudder being raised from the deck by means of sheers.
We then got a set of chain-topsail sheets, parcelled them
well, and took a clove hitch with them around the rudder,
about half-way up. One end was brought into each main-chain,
and set up by tackles. In this manner the wheel did
tolerably well, though we had to let the ship lie-to in heavy
weather.

The chain sheets held on near a month, and then gave
way. On examination, it was found that the parcelling had
gone under the ship's counter, and that the copper had nearly
destroyed the iron. After this, we mustered all the chains
of the ship, of proper size, parcelled them very thoroughly,
got another clove hitch around the rudder as before, and
brought the ends to the hawse-holes, letting the bights fall,
one on each side of the ship's keel. The ends were next
brought to the windlass and hove taut. This answered pretty
well, and stood until we got the ship into New York. Our
whole passage was stormy, and lasted seventy days, as near
as I can recollect. The ship was almost given up when we
got in, and great was the joy at our arrival.

As the Erie lost her turn, in consequence of wanting repairs,
most of us went on board the Henry IVth, in the
same line. This voyage was comfortable, and successful,

a fine ship and good usage. On our return to New York
most of us went back to the Erie, liking both vessel and
captain, as well as her other officers. I went twice more
to Havre and back in this ship, making four voyages in her
in all. At the end of the fourth voyage our old mate left
us, to do business ashore, and we took a dislike to his successor,
though it was without trying him. The mate we
lost had been a great favourite, and we seemed to think if
he went we must go too. At any rate, nearly all hands
went to the Silvie de Grasse, where we got another good
ship, good officers, and good treatment. In fact, all these
Havre liners were very much alike in these respects, the Silvie
de Grasse being the fourth in which I had then sailed,
and to me they all seemed as if they belonged to the same
family. I went twice to Havre in this ship also, when I left
her for the Normandy, in the same line. I made this change
in consequence of an affair about some segars in Havre, in
which I had no other concern than to father another man's
fault. The captain treated me very handsomely, but my
temperament is such that I am apt to fly off in a tangent
when anything goes up stream. It was caprice that took
me from the Silvie de Grasse, and put me in her sisterliner.

I liked the Normandy as well as the rest of these liners,
except that the vessel steered badly. I made only one voyage
in her, however, as will be seen in the next chapter.

It will probably be said, the error is merely one of language; the
jurisdiction being clearly legal. Is this true? Can Congress, legally
or constitutionally, legislate for American citizens, when undeniably
within the jurisdiction of foreign states? Admit this as a principle,
and what is to prevent Congress from punishing acts, that it may be
the policy of foreign countries to exact from even casual residents.
If Congress can punish me, as a pirate, for slaving under a foreign
flag, and in foreign countries, it can punish me for carrying arms
against all American allies; and yet military service may be exacted
of even an American citizen, resident in a foreign state, under particular
circumstances. The same difficulty, in principle, may be extended to
the whole catalogue of legal crime.

Congress exists only for specified purposes. It can punish piracy,
but it cannot declare what shall, or shall not, be piracy; as this would
be invading the authority of international law. Under the general
power to pass laws, that are necessary to carry out the system, it can
derive no authority; since there can be no legal necessity for any
such double legislation, under the comity of nations. Suppose, for
instance, England should legalize slaving, again. Could the United
States claim the American citizen, who had engaged in slaving, under
the English flag, and from a British port, under the renowned Ashburton
treaty? Would England give such a man up? No more
than she will now give up the slaves that run from the American vessel,
which is driven in by stress of weather. One of the vices of
philanthropy is to overreach its own policy, by losing sight of all
collateral principles and interests. — Editor.