Twenty years before the mast/Chapter XVII

by Charles Erskine

CHAPTER XVII

---

Once ashore, we headed directly for the sailors’ quarters, — the "Hook" and "Five Points," — where the sailors’ boarding-houses were located. We were greeted by the landlords, the landladies, and their daughters with a profusion of smiles; and oh, how glad they were to see us! If we had been their own brothers they could not have been more cordial. They showered upon us endearing expressions, such as, "My dear, long-lost Jack, I am ever so glad to see you home again!" "My shipmates," "My messmates," etc. This, however, was all taffy. They loved us only for the shot in the locker. When a sailor was flush they called him "Jack" and treated him like a king; when his money was gone they called him "John" and turned him out.

The third day on shore we heard of the death of Vendovi, the Fiji chief. We also learned that we should not be paid off for a week. Feeling anxious to get home, and, I must add, thoroughly disgusted with the vile set of land-sharks of both sexes, twenty of us started for Boston. Arriving late in the evening, we came to at "Mother Paine’s" and "Jack Wright’s" sailors’ boarding-houses, situated on Ann Street. Sunday morning, after breakfast, the boy, Isaac Carney, made for his home in East Boston; Bill Roberts, in Chelsea; and Charlie Erskine sought his home at the West End. At noon, we all three met at "Mother Paine’s," neither of us having been successful in finding our parents. While talking over our morning adventures with each other in the old wood-shed, we could not help giving vent to our feelings. We did, indeed, feel very sad and discouraged. However, after dinner we started again. I revisited the house where my mother had formerly lived in Bridge Street Court. The woman whom I found residing there had just returned from church, and informed me that my mother had moved about three years before to Commercial Street, and said I had better look in the directory. I had already looked there, but my mother’s name was not in the book. I continued my search, however, and finally discovered that my mother resided on Canton Street.

Such a joyful meeting as it was! I shall not attempt to describe it. Carney also was successful in finding his mother, who was living in Chelsea, and Roberts found his in East Boston.

Tuesday we all returned to New York. It was fourteen days from the time of our arrival to the day we were paid off. Mr. Bennett stated in the New York Herald that it was a shame and a disgrace for the Government to keep us out of our pay so long, and that he would help pay the expenses of the two hundred of the Vincennes' crew to Washington if they would go on and give each member of Congress what they so richly deserved — a good, sound thrashing. He had no doubt but what we could do it, even if there were five hundred Congressmen. At last the day arrived when we were to receive our wages. Our sailor landlords and ladies — the land-sharks — were on hand, willing and eager to take our earnings as we received them from the purser. These people were in the habit of acting as our treasurers. They would take the sailor’s money and deal it out to him from time to time, being sure, however, to charge enormously for the service. The sailors were, in fact, swindled without mercy by these pretended friends. Some of our crew were paid off with six and eight hundred dollars.

The next day about a hundred of us squared the yards with our landlords and headed for dear old Boston. When we reached there, several of the crew continued to their homes on Cape Cod, while others went to Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. Before we separated, however, the land-sharks on Ann Street had reaped quite a harvest from us.

All were glad to see me home again. My mother was overjoyed, and told me that the hundred dollars I had sent to her had been a real Godsend, and that it came just in the "nick of time."

Supper hour drawing near, my youngest sister said to me, "Charlie, what do you want real nice for supper?"

I replied, "Some of mother’s hasty pudding and milk."

They were all much astonished at my simple request, as they had expected to prepare something more elaborate; but we had the hasty pudding, and I assure you it was delicious.

I soon went down town and bought a suit of clothes at John Earle’s; but before I could wear the pants, I had to cut away the straps, take a reef in the legs, and dispense with the suspenders and vest; even then I felt as if I was in irons. However, I stood it, and with a black beaver hat on the back of my head, felt that my attire was comme il faut, and sailed forth.

In a few days I met one of my young shipmates, called Knowles, who invited me to accompany him to his home in Maine. I was pleased to accept his invitation, and the following afternoon we took the steamboat for Bangor. His home was in the country, thirty miles west of Bangor. We rode two-thirds of the way in an old-fashioned stage-coach, and walked the remainder. At last we arrived at the house. It was a very old looking house, and stood a little back from the road. As we advanced, we saw standing in the large front doorway a tall, venerable man, with long white hair, and whiskers reaching to his waist. He was leaning on a staff, and reminded me of Rip Van Winkle.

"Thank God! father is alive, and mother too!" exclaimed my young shipmate, sobbing.

Soon a kind, motherly looking old lady made her appearance at the door. When he saw her, Knowles cried, "Why, don’t you know me, mother?"

Then his good, loving, old mother threw her arms around his neck, and exclaimed, "My God, my God! it is my boy, my boy, — my own, dear, lost boy!"

I assisted the old man to a chair, and then, while tears of joy were streaming down his cheeks, hauled off and took a cruise about the yard, and surveyed the hennery and piggery. The pigs amused me very much. There were a dozen little ones, short and fat, and all of the same size. It was quite laughable to see them stare at me with their small, pink eyes for a second or two and then scamper away. Soon I was called back into the house, and my shipmate introduced me to his venerable father and mother and several brothers and sisters. They were all overjoyed at the return of the long-lost boy. They had not heard anything from him since he had left home, seven years before, and his parents had supposed him dead. I was very kindly treated, and remained with them about two months.

While here, I attended the academy every afternoon, for the trifling expense of one dollar a week. The master was a young lawyer. I also went to singing-school one evening in the week, and to writing-school another. Soon, the master of the academy getting married, a vacation was declared for a month. I had been progressing finely in reading, writing, and singing, so every one said, and regretted the interference of a vacation.

The time soon arrived when I had to take a final leave of my shipmate, his father, mother, brothers, sisters, and schoolmates, and return to Boston. Mother and the rest of the family were as glad to see me back as if I had just returned from a long sea voyage.

Upon investigation, I found only one of the Vincennes' crew in Boston — Samuel Williams — a gunner’s mate, and one of the original crew. He had been shipped over five years, and, with many others, had received more than eight hundred dollars pay. He told me he had then but three hundred left, and that he did not know what to do with it. Said he had grown tired and lonely being on shore so long, and that the very paving-stones seemed to tell him to go home — to sea again. I never heard of him again.

A few days afterwards I shipped in the bark General Scott, bound to New York, and thence to Appalachicola. I made one trip in this bark, and several in the brig Thomas Jefferson to Mobile and New Orleans, and also two in an old down-east molasses drogher. Nothing of interest occurred on either of these short voyages, and in about two years I found myself at home again in

"Boston, O Boston, that fair spot of earth,
 Where heaven gave glorious freedom her birth."

I soon obtained employment at painting, and commenced work. For amusement I occasionally spent an evening at the old National Theater. One evening I was sitting in the pit with a number of boys who were making considerable disturbance. "Old Dexter," the constable, had spoken to us several times, and requested us to be quiet. Finding his mandate unheeded, he leaned over, seized me by the collar, and lifted me out of my seat into the aisle. He was a large and powerful man, while I was small and wiry. We had reached the inside door of the pit, when the officer seeing that a fight was in progress in the entry left me to stop the fight. I improved the opportunity and skedaddled for home. The next day, hearing that officer Dexter was in pursuit of me, I remained in the house. Fortunately, in the evening I heard that a New York packet was short-handed. I shipped on her at once, and received four dollars for the run. We reached New York in three days. As we made fast to the wharf we found ourselves alongside a new clipper ship called the Rainbow. I soon went aboard of her, and as I did so a brisk, little, old man stepped up to me and said:

"Do you want to ship?"

"What in?"

"Why, in this ship, of course."

"Where bound, sir?"

"To Canton, my lad."

"Thence, where?"

"Return to New York."

"What wages, sir?"

"Can you hand, reef, and steer?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ten dollars per month."

"I will ship, sir."

He then handed me the following:

No Grog allowed in this Ship, and no Man received that is not Sober.	JAMES H. DILL, Notary Public, No. 76 Wall Street. Ship the bearer, Charlie Erskine, as ordinary seaman on board of the ship "Rainbow," at $10 per Month, and pay him $20 advance, with Security and Protection. New York, Jan. 29, 1845. Your obed't Serv't, Capt. John Land.
No. 141. I, CORNELIUS VAN NESS, Collector of the District of New York, do hereby Certify that Chas. Erskine, an American Seaman

aged 22 years, or thereabouts, of the height of 5 feet 7 inches, Brown hair, Dark complexion, Born in Boston, State of Massachusetts, has this day produced to me proof in the manner directed by the Act entitled "An Act for the Relief and Protection of American Seamen"; and pursuant to the said Act, I do hereby certify that the said Erskine is a Citizen of the United States of America.

In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my Hand and Seal of Office, this 29th day of January, 1845.

I. W. T. Talman, Collector.

Feb. 1, 1845. Found myself on board of the ship Rainbow, Captain John Land, bound to Canton. The ship’s decks and the wharf were crowded with spectators to witness the sailing of this new and beautiful craft. As we were being towed down the river, we were saluted with shouts and cheers from the shore. Large flags and banners hung from the spacious new warehouse of Messrs. Howland & Aspinwall, and the windows were filled with ladies. We had a very pleasant though cold sail down the Narrows to Sandy Hook. When we reached the light-house, the company on board, which consisted of about fifty gentlemen, left us and went aboard the steamer Samson which came after them. As they left, they gave us three times three cheers, which we returned with interest. The Rainbow was one of the first vessels of her kind — 750 tons burden, very long and narrow, very sharp, and an extraordinarily fast sailer, passing every vessel we came across. Before the steamer left us, Rev. Mr. Barker offered an appropriate prayer, and distributed several religious books among the crew.

Having made all sail, we bowled merrily along towards the open sea at the rate of nine knots an hour, the wind from the nor’west, we heading east-sou’east; all hands employed cleaning up decks and stowing the anchors. At five o’clock p. m. all hands were called aft and divided into watches.

Six o’clock, went to supper and the dog-watch set. The ship’s company consisted of the captain, first and second mates, carpenter, cook, steward, cabin boy, ten seamen, six ordinary seamen, and six boys, making twenty-nine in all. Twenty-two before the mast, and nineteen of them were Americans. We also had four passengers — Mr. Lovett, Mr. Gardner, Mr. Saltonstall, and Mr. Newbold.

Nothing of importance occurred on the voyage, with the exception of passing several vessels, until the 4th, when we encountered a terrific gale. We took a double reef in the topsails and sent down the to’-gallant yards. The yards had no sooner touched the deck than all three to’-gallant masts went by the board. For three days afterward we ran under close-reefed topsails, with a very heavy sea dashing several feet over the monkey rail, flooding the deck and driving everything before it. Several casks of coal, having broken away from lashings, took a cruise about decks and did much damage. Two water casks full of water got loose and were carried over the rail without touching it. It was in this gale that the ships United States and London, from New York, foundered.

On the 8th it was beautifully clear. Shook all the reefs out of the topsails, and made all the sail we possibly could. Before ten o’clock our rigging resembled a washerwoman’s clothes-line, being strung over with wet clothes of every description.

Sunday morning scrubbed decks and bent a new spanker. At eight bells — eight o’clock — as the watch were going below, the weather threatening, the order was given to shorten sail. We furled the mainsail, took bonnet off the jib, close-reefed the topsails, and reefed the spanker. We passed a most miserable Sunday, having plenty of work to do.

February 10 and 11. Lying to under close-reefed foretop-sails and stay-sails.

The morning of the 14th was fine. In the afternoon saw land at a great distance to leeward, which proved to be the Azores, or Western Islands. Several sail in sight. For several days the weather continued fair, the wind light. We finished repairing our to’-gallant masts, sent them up, crossed our to’-gallant, royal, and sky-sail yards, and set the sails, with studding sails on either side. The wind being fair, we made rapid progress. The Rainbow kept her crew busy night and day, Sundays included. There is always a great deal of necessary work to be done aboard of a new ship on her first voyage, but on the Rainbow there appeared to be a large amount of unnecessary labor demanded.

One night the mid-watch had just gone below to turn in when it was called back on deck to take a pull at the weather braces. This was extra work, and unnecessary, and one of the watch began to growl. The captain ordered him aft. The man said he had no business aft. The captain then threatened to put him in irons. The man remained obstinate, however, and the captain, with the assistance of the steward, seized the sailor, and, after considerable difficulty, executed his threat.

The larboard watch, which had been below, hearing the scuffle, rushed on deck; but before they arrived the man had been ironed and thrust down the booby hatch. The captain, who was very much excited at seeing all the larboard watch coming aft in a body and inquiring whom he had ironed, called for a cutlass. He then came in amongst us and inquired if any more of us wanted to be put in irons. A man by the name of Peter promptly replied that he did; upon which he was seized by the collar, thrown upon the deck, and held there by the steward. Peter at once showed fight, whereupon the captain ordered him to be tied up to the rigging and flogged. The moment the order was given, Peter struggled to his feet, bared his breast, and, grasping his sheath knife, said to the captain, "You may run me through, but, by the Eternal, you’ll never tie me up to the rigging and flog me alive."

The captain drew his cutlass. Up to this point the crew had remained very quiet, but when they saw the captain’s action their blood began to rise. Each man tucked a fresh quid of tobacco into his cheek and was ready for a fight. A bloody mutiny might have occurred had not the passengers at this moment interfered, and by their entreaties induced the captain to let Peter go. So the cat’s paw died away.

After Peter had been released, the captain approached us and said, "Men, you know, or ought to know, the consequences of a man before the mast giving back lip. Do what you are ordered to do, and that quickly and cheerfully. There must be no swearing, quarreling, grumbling, or humbugging on board of this ship, and no such word as ‘I can’t’ is to be used. You have shipped to work. Your time belongs to the owners, and therefore you are to find no fault. The work must be done, and if it is not done willingly, the sword must see it done."

Taylor, the man who had been put in irons, was now set at liberty, and the crew ordered forward. The larboard watch went below, and the starboard watch gave a pull at the weather braces, but not with the merry song as usual. In justice to the two mates, I will state that they took no part in the affair.

The 22d, Washington’s birthday, we celebrated with plenty of hard work, not enough being thought of the day which gave our glorious and ever-to-be-remembered commander-in-chief birth, to make it a holiday. The only alleviation of the injustice was a dish of fried salt cod-fish for dinner, to which all hands did ample justice.

February 29. Sunday. A fairer morning never dawned. After having scrubbed decks, we scrubbed ourselves. At ten o’clock all hands were called aft to prayers. The passengers and crew gathered around the capstan, when the captain made a few remarks, stating the object of our meeting there on Sunday and how we might obtain salvation, and urged us to read our Bibles and other religious books. A chapter from the Bible was then read, and a hymn sung. Then followed a brief sermon, after which the services closed with prayer. Dinner hour soon arrived, when we had the pleasure of eating a plum duff with molasses, which we relished the more keenly as we remembered we had a watch below in the afternoon to settle it. At four o’clock we were again called aft to prayers, the services being similar to those held in the morning.

March 5. A fine, clear day, but very hot. Crossed the line to-day, but without the customary visit of Father Neptune. The only ceremony in crossing was a thorough baptism of rain, by which we were completely drenched.

March 15. We now doubled the "cape of storms," Cape of Good Hope. All the light yards were sent down, and everything made snug. The Southern Cross was now visible in the heavens, and its two polar stars shone as brightly as ever. For several days the ship was surrounded by albatrosses, cape pigeons, and stormy petrels.

April 3. In the morning made the island of Java and spoke the ship Monument, from Canton, bound for Boston. We soon entered the Straits of Sunda. The wind failing us, we came to in the roads and took in a supply of fresh buffalo meat, chickens, vegetables, fruits, garlic, and snaps, or Holland gin. Probably in no part of the world are chickens to be found so plenty and cheap as at this island. We could look into the water and see the bottom, fairly white with the bones which had been thrown overboard by the sailors who had visited the place. During the two days we lay here becalmed, it was chicken for breakfast, chicken for dinner, chicken for supper. It is as natural for an old sailor to growl as it is for him to breathe, and, on this occasion, they indulged in it freely. It was amusing to hear one of them growl out, "Oh, if they would only serve old salt horse for dinner!"

Early on the evening of the 5th, a light wind sprang up from the sou’west and we weighed anchor and made sail for Canton. Shortly after making Macao, we were boarded by a Chinese pilot, who brought us up to our anchorage at Wampo. Here we lay eighteen days. This was the sickly time of the year for this region. Consequently, each morning, at daylight, all hands had a tot (a wineglass) of garlic bitters (garlic steeped in gin), and at sunrise, a half-pint of strong Java coffee. We were also warned by the captain not to drink any samshoe, a native liquor. The ship was discharged of her assorted freight, and we took on a cargo of teas, mace, and silks, which were stowed away in the hold by a Chinese stevedore and his gang of Chinamen. While lying here we took the opportunity to cut three feet from our lower masts, to turn in and set up the lower rigging back-stays, and to do other necessary work. Each watch had thirty-six hours’ liberty to go to Canton, which was about sixteen miles from Wampo, up the Canton River. The favorite resort in Canton for sailors was Hog Lane and vicinity. As soon as we had arrived in the lane the shopkeepers began to banter us for our names, which they wished to use as signs over the doors of their shops. The following are some of the names we saw: George Washington, Johnny Bull, Johnny Crapo, Portuguese Joe, Big Dick, Jim Crow, Jimmy Ducks, and many others too numerous to mention. In many of the shops were notices of "Boston crackers, both hard and soft." Another bore the sign of "Simmons’ Oak Hall, North Ann Street, Boston, — the cheapest place in the world to buy clothing." The venders of cat, rat, and dog pies, sugared worms, and coagulated blood, were more numerous than our peanut and apple venders.

If the devil should throw his net into Canton he would surely draw in his own. I verily believe every shopkeeper we met, man or woman, was an expert thief, cheat, and liar. They could change a black dog into a white monkey, to say nothing of a Spanish dollar into a counterfeit. We saw many strange sights. Barbers in the streets, shaving with razors that looked like little hatchets, old Chinese women reading large books, and old Chinamen driving hoops and flying kites. These kites were in the form of birds, and had wings. After purchasing several tea caddies, boxes, fans, and other things for the dear ones at home, we steered for Hog Lane, where we spent the night, having what Jack before the mast calls a jolly good time. In the morning, after taking an eye-opener, we breakfasted on cat or dog stew, — we were unable to determine which, though the meat tasted much like rabbit’s meat. Of course the stew was plentifully thickened with rice. We returned on board at noon, when the larboard watch took their liberty.

While we were lying here, the residents back in the country were visited by an earthquake, which demolished over ten thousand houses and killed nearly five thousand people.

In the city of Canton there was a large opera house where an opera troupe had a three months’ engagement. The Sunday night before we left, a fire broke out while some five or six thousand persons were assembled to witness the performance. Nearly all perished in the flames.

Labor was very cheap. We had all our clothes and blankets washed and mattresses packed for the small sum of one dollar; also a jar of ginger presented to us as a "come-ashore." The evening before our departure a grand display of fireworks was given in honor of Captain Land by several of his Chinese friends.

All the rigging having been set up, and the ship "all atanto," the hatches battened down, and everything made snug, on the morning of June 1st we weighed anchor and stood to sea.

While passing Hong Kong we saw "Old Ironsides" (the frigate Constitution) standing in. She fired a shot across our bow, as a signal for us to heave to. The captain paying no attention to it, or to the second, a third was sent through the foresail, when we hove to. Presently a boat from the Constitution came alongside. An officer climbed over the side, and a letter-bag was put on board. As the officer was walking aft with the captain, he espied me at the wheel.

"Why, Charlie, is that you?" he exclaimed.

On looking up, I was surprised at seeing old Lieutenant "D—n Your Eyes," of the Vincennes.

"Don’t you know any better than to speak to the man at the wheel, ‘D—n Your Eyes’?" I replied.

He soon took his departure, when we filled and stood on our course.

Nothing of importance occurred until we arrived off the coast of Cochin China, when we were overtaken by a sou’west monsoon. The captain, having his weather eye open, saw it coming, and we took in our light sails and sent the yards to the deck. The top-sails lowered, courses and crogic clued up, the squall now struck us, and we had lively work before we got the ship under bare poles. The wind blew furiously, lashing the sea into a perfect foam, from three to four feet deep. It was impossible to tell how rapidly the ship was driven through the water. It must have been from eighteen to twenty knots, or more, an hour. The storm continued about six hours.

After the storm had subsided we had fair wind and pleasant weather and "watch and watch," until we reached the cape, when we again experienced very rough weather. One night, the wind, which had been abaft our quarter, suddenly shifted dead ahead. Our sails were taken all aback, and the ship got such stern-way on her that everybody on board felt certain that she would go down stern foremost. It seemed a miracle how she was ever got before the wind. The sea was running very high, and the wind blowing a terrific gale. The ship was taking in water over the bows, and the deck was flooded fore and aft. All the sails were taken in, except the foretop-sail, which was blown out from the bolt-ropes, scarcely a shred of it remaining. One of our boys, by the name of Ambrose Hazard, was knocked off the main-yard onto the deck by the flapping of the sail which he was furling. He was picked up and carried into the cabin and put into a berth. Just then we shipped a very heavy sea which nearly flooded our forecastle and cabin. Poor Ambrose was washed out from his berth, and found floating in nearly two feet of water, dead. This gale was from the sou’east, and continued about thirty-six hours, carrying us well around the cape.

The first duty now devolving upon us was to bury the dead. Old sailors are always averse to having dead men on board ship. All hands and the passengers gathered at the lee gangway, where the impressive Episcopal burial service was performed by the captain. The sun rose in calm sublimity out of the ocean in the eastern horizon as our shipmate’s body was launched into its watery grave. Just then a school of flying fish was seen to fly over the spot, followed by a school of dolphins, then a huge shark. This shark followed in the wake of our ship for several days afterward. In the afternoon Ambrose’s chest was brought on deck and an auction sale of its contents commenced. The captain acted as auctioneer. He first held up several small bundles, but no one bid for them. He next offered for sale a pair of trousers and a pea-jacket; then the bedding. He pleaded earnestly for some one to bid, but no one responded. Finally he took up several small packages which were tied up very neatly and labeled, and read the addresses.

The first was, "To my dear, loving mother, from her son Ambrose." The next, "To my little flaxen-haired sister, Fannie." Another, to "Brother Eddie." The auctioneer, our captain, then made some very touching remarks which brought tears to the eyes of both the passengers and the crew.

For several days after this sad event we were busy sending up the light yards, mending and bending sails, and rigging studding gear. I have heard of ships carrying many light sails, such as moonsails, star-gazers, skyscrapers, and heaven disturbers, but the Rainbow carried nothing above her sky-sails; but she did carry a standing crogic, a jib, an outer jib, a flying jib, and a bonnet on her jib, fore and main lower, top, and top-gallant studding sails, and stay-sails too numerous to mention. She had fifteen cloths in her lower studding sails, and five hundred yards of canvas in her main course.

July 20. We were now rolling along by the island of St. Helena, with studding sails below and aloft, and our good ship moving through the water like a thing of life. We were having "watch and watch," so we had plenty of time to mend our clothes and spin yarns. The 20th was the captain’s birthday, and he celebrated it by having the ship’s pet — a good-sized pig — killed. All hands consequently had a fresh mess. Old Tom Taylor, the man who had been put in irons, said, "The old man reminds me of a Portuguese devil — when he is good he is too good, and when he is bad he is too d—d bad."

The captain had naturally a very ugly temper, and was a great bully. He was known as a bully captain out of Baltimore. Just before this last voyage he had been converted to religion. Probably he had become a better man, but his old habits were still on him, and he would often rip out and curse all hands as he had been used to. He sometimes, however, would become aware of his brutality, and would then dive down into his cabin, and, falling upon his knees, would pray for half an hour afterward; any one could hear him, he prayed so loud. Our two mates understood the old man better than we did, and succeeded in preventing many a row. We were now nearing the end of the voyage, and the captain had been so kind in giving us "watch and watch," which amounted to half time off, that we had come to the conclusion that he was not such a bad man, after all.

The forecastle of the Rainbow was a damp, dark, and narrow little space in the bow of the ship. There was not room enough between where our chests were lashed for ten men to stand. Here we ate, drank, slept, smoked, took everything as it came along, and derived all the pleasure we possibly could. The crew were a manly, jolly set. I acquired more practical seamanship during the eight months while on board the Rainbow than in the whole seven years while in the navy, where a man or boy learns nothing but to pull, haul, splice, pass the balls, handle the sails, make grummets, work a Matthew Walker, a Turk’s head, and tie a hard, square, hangman’s, or a true lover’s knot. None but able seamen are allowed to take a trick at the wheel or work on the rigging.

July 23. Our good ship has been making rapid progress towards home. To-day we crossed the equator, or equinoctial line. The Magellan Clouds and the constellation of the Southern Cross are growing fainter and fainter in the distance, while northward we see many of our old familiar friends that have cheered us in our night watches — Jupiter, the Pleiades, and the Big Dipper.

August 8. This evening in latitude 7° north, just above the northern horizon, we made the North Star. It was shining as brightly as ever.

August 10. Weather fair, with a strong breeze blowing from the sou’east. Our ship was making fourteen knots an hour. We carried this breeze until the 18th, when it commenced to slacken. In the evening caught a porpoise, and the following morning had some porpoise steak for breakfast, instead of our usual mess of lobscouse, which was made of bread, potatoes, onions, and salt beef and pork chopped up — the whole stewed together. This mess, with a pot of coffee sweetened with molasses, was generally the standard dish on board of a merchantman for Jack before the mast.

We were so near home now we were taking what Jack calls sailor’s pleasure, that is, overhauling our chests, monk-bags, ditty-boxes, and the little parcels marked for brother, sister, or "the girl I left behind me." The small space where our deceased shipmate’s chest had been lashed remained unoccupied, and any one of the crew would as soon have thought of jumping overboard as of sitting or standing there. The old sailors swore that they had seen poor Ambrose standing there, shivering in the wind, and looking as pale as a ghost.

As we neared the Gulf Stream the weather looked squally. The sky-sails and royal yards were sent on deck, and the flying-jib-boom housed. While crossing the stream the lightning was very vivid and the rain poured down in torrents.

At eight bells, four o’clock, on the morning of September 17th, took pilot. At daylight made the Highlands of Nevisink, off New York harbor. Soon after breakfast a steamboat came alongside and towed us up to the wharf, when all hands left the ship with chests and bedding. We had made the voyage to China and return in the extraordinarily short space of seven months and seventeen days, the quickest voyage from port to port in a sailing vessel ever made, I believe, before or since.

We arrived home eight days ahead of the Monument, though she had three thousand miles the start of us.

My stay in New York was but a few hours.

Squaring the Yards with My Landlord.

New York, Sept. 19, 1845.
CHARLIE ERSKINE
To "Sailors’ Home," Dr.
	To 1 day’s board and lodging	$0.50
	"cash cartage	0.25
	""paid clothing	7.75
	"bill of old acct.	12.46
Sept. 18.	"cash	2.00
	"balance	20.60
$43.56
	Cr. by amt. rec’d from ship	$43.56
Rec’d payment,
EDWARD D. STEVENS.