To us of the present day, who cross the ocean in a floating hotel, in a few days, arriving almost on the hour, the detailed account of the dangers, discomforts, and privations suffered by the travellers of an earlier period seems almost incredible. Brave, indeed, were our fathers who went down to the sea in ships, for they never knew when, if ever, they would reach the other sh.o.r.e, and there could be no C.Q.D. or S.O.S.
flashed by wireless in the Morse code to summon a.s.sistance in case of disaster. In this case storm succeeded storm; head winds were encountered almost all the way across; fine weather and fair winds were the exception, and provisions and fresh water were almost exhausted.
The following quotations from the journal will give some idea of the terrors experienced by the young man, whose appointed time had not yet arrived. He still had work to do in the world which could be done by no other.
"_Monday, August 21, 1815._ After waiting fourteen days in Liverpool for a fair wind, we set sail at three o"clock in the afternoon with the wind at southeast, in company with upwards of two hundred sail of vessels, which formed a delightful prospect. We gradually lost sight of different vessels as it approached night, and at sunset they were dispersed all over the horizon. In the night the wind sprung up strong and fair, and in the morning we were past Holyhead.
"_Tuesday, 22d August._ Wind directly ahead; beating all day; thick weather and gales of wind; pa.s.sengers all sick and I not altogether well.
Little progress to-day.
"_Wednesday, 23d August._ A very disagreeable day, boisterous, head winds and rainy. Beating across the channel from the Irish to the Welsh coast.
"_Friday, 25th August._ Dreadful still; blowing harder and harder; quite a storm and a lee sh.o.r.e; breakers in sight, tacked and stood over again to the Irish sh.o.r.e under close-reefed topsails. At night saw Waterford light again.
"_Monday, 28th August._ A fair wind springing up (ten o"clock). Going at the rate of seven knots on our true course. We have had just a week of the most disagreeable weather possible. I hope this is the beginning of better winds, and that, in reasonable time, we shall see our native sh.o.r.e.
"_Tuesday, 29th August._ Still disappointed in fair winds.... Since, then, I can find nothing consoling on deck, let us see what is in the cabin. All of us make six, four gentlemen and two ladies. Mrs. Phillips, Mrs. Drake, Captain Chamberlain, Mr. Bancroft, Mr. Lancaster, and myself.
Our amus.e.m.e.nts are eating and drinking, sleeping and backgammon.
Seasickness we have thrown overboard, and, all things considered, we try to enjoy ourselves and sometimes succeed.
"_Thursday, 31st August._ Wind as directly ahead as it can blow; squally all night and tremendous sea. What a contrast does this voyage make with my first. This day makes the tenth day out and we have advanced towards home about three hundred miles. In my last voyage, on the tenth day, we had accomplished one half our voyage, sixteen hundred miles.
"_Friday, 1st September._ Dreadful weather; wind still ahead; foggy, rainy, and heavy swell; patience almost exhausted, but the will of Heaven be done. If this weather is to continue I hope we shall have fort.i.tude to bear it. All is for the best.
"_Sat.u.r.day, 9th September._ Nineteenth day out and not yet more than one third of our way to Boston. Oh! when shall we end this tedious pa.s.sage?
"_Sunday, 10th September._ Calm with dreadful sea. Early this morning discovered a large ship to the southward, dismasted, probably in the late gale. Discovered an unpleasant trait in our captain"s character which I shall merely allude to. I am sorry to say he did not demonstrate that prompt.i.tude to a.s.sist a fellow creature in distress which I expected to find inherent in a seaman"s breast, and especially in an American seaman"s. It was not till after three or four hours" delay, and until the entreaties of his pa.s.sengers and some threatening murmurs on my part of a public exposure in Boston of his conduct, that he ordered the ship to bear down upon the wreck, and then with slackened sail and much grumbling. A ship and a brig were astern of us, and, though farther by some miles from the distressed ship than we were, they instantly bore down for her, and rendered her this evening the a.s.sistance we might have done at noon. We are now standing on our way with a fair wind springing up at southeast, which I suppose will last a few hours. Spent the day in religious exercises, and was happy to observe on the part of the rest of the pa.s.sengers a due regard for the solemnity of the day.
"_Monday, 11th September._ Wind still ahead and the sky threatening.--Ten o"clock. Beginning to blow hard; taking in sails one after another.-- Three o"clock. A perfect storm; the gale a few days ago but a gentle breeze to it.... I never witnessed so tremendous a gale; the wind blowing so that it can scarcely be faced; the sea like ink excepting the whiteness of the surge, which is carried into the air like clouds of dust, or like the driving of snow. The wind piping through our bare rigging sounds most terrific; indeed, it is a most awful sight. The sea in mountains breaking over our bows, and a single wave dispersing in mist through the violence of the storm; ship rolling to such a degree that we are compelled to keep our berths; cabin dark with the deadlights in. Oh!
who would go to sea when he can stay on sh.o.r.e! The wind in southwest driving us back again, so that we are losing all the advantages of our fair wind of yesterday, which lasted, as I supposed, two or three hours.
"_Tuesday, 12th September._ Gale abated, but head wind still....
"_Wednesday, 13th September._ All last night a tremendous storm from northwest.
"_Thursday, 14th September._ The storm increased to a tremendous height last night. The clouds at sunset were terrific in the extreme, and, in the evening, still more so with lightning. The sea has risen frightfully and everything wears a most alarming aspect. At 3 A.M. a squall struck us and laid us almost wholly under water; we came near losing our foremast.... None of us able to sleep from the dreadful noises; creakings and howlings and thousands of indescribable sounds. Lord! who can endure the terror of thy storm!... Yesterday"s sea was as molehills to mountains compared with the sea to-day....
"_Friday, 15th September._ The storm somewhat abated this morning, but still blowing hard from southwest.... Twenty-four days out to-day.
"_Sat.u.r.day, 16th September._ Blowing a gale of wind from southwest. Noon almost calm for half an hour, when, on a sudden, the wind shifted to the northeast, when it blew such a hurricane that every one on board declared they never saw its equal. For four hours it blew so hard that all the sea was in a perfect foam, and resembled a severe snowstorm more than a dry blow. If the wind roared before, it now shrilly whistled through our rigging."
After some days of calm with winds sometimes favorable but light, and, when fresh, ahead, the journal continues:--
"_Monday, 25th September._ Another gale of wind last night, ahead, dreadful sea; took in sail and lay to all night.... Beginning to think of our provisions; bread mouldy and little left; sugar, little left; fresh provisions, little left; beans, none left; salt pork, little left; salt beef, a plenty; water, plenty; stores of pa.s.sengers, some gone and the rest drawing to a conclusion; patience drawing to a conclusion; in short all is falling short and drawing to a conclusion except _our voyage and my journal_....
"_Tuesday, 26th September._... Find our captain to be a complete old woman; takes in sail at night and never knows when to set it again; the longer we know him, the more surly he grows; he is not even civil....
Several large turtles pa.s.sed within a few feet of us yesterday and to-day, and, considering we are near the end of our provisions, one would have thought our captain would be anxious to take them; but no, it was too much trouble to lower the boat from the stern.
"_Friday, 29th September._ Last night another dreadful gale, as severe as any since we have been out.
"_Monday, 2d October._ Last night another gale of wind from northwest and is this morning still blowing hard and cold from the same quarter. What a dreadful pa.s.sage is ours; we seem destined to have no fair wind, and to have a gale of wind every other day.
"_Sat.u.r.day, 7th October._ Wind still ahead and blowing hard; very cold and dismal. Oh! when shall we see home!... I thought I could observe a kind of warfare between the different winds since we have been at sea.
The west wind seems to be the tyrant at present, as it were the Bonaparte of the air. He has been blowing his gales very lavishly, and no other wind has been able to check him with any success.
"I recollect on one day, while it was calm, a thick bank of clouds began to rise in the northeast; no other clouds were in the sky. They rose gently in the calm as if fearful of rousing their deadly foe in the west.
Now they had gained one third of the heavens when, behold, in the southwest another bank of thick black clouds came rolling up, and, reddening in the rays of the setting sun, marched on, teeming with fury.
They soon gained the middle of the heavens where the frightened northeast had not yet reached. They met, they mixed, the routed northeast skulked back, while the thick column of the southwest, having driven back its enemy, slowly returned to its repose, proudly displaying a thousand various colors, as if for victory.
"At another time success seemed to be more in favor of the northeast; for, shortly after this great defeat, the southwest came forth and, like a petty tyrant intoxicated with success, began to oppress the subject ocean. It blew its gales and filled the air with clouds and rain and fog.
Suddenly the northeast, as under cover of the darkness, and as one driven to desperation, burst forth on its too confident enemy with redoubled fury. Old ocean groans at the dreadful conflict; for, as in the warring of two hostile armies on the domains of a neutral, the neutral suffers most severely, so the neutral ocean seemed doomed to bear the weight of all their rancor. The southwest flies affrighted. And now the northeast, vaunting forth, stalks with the rage of an angry demon over the waters; the ocean foams beneath his breath, it steams and smokes and heaves in agony its troubled bosom.
"But, alas! how few can bear prosperity; how few, when victory crowns their efforts, can rule with moderation; how often, does it happen that we reenact the same scenes for which we punished our enemy. For now has the northeast become the tyrant and rules with tenfold rigor; he pours forth all his strength and, drunk with success as soldiers after a victory, at length sinks away into an inglorious calm.
"Now does the southwest collect his routed forces, checked but not conquered; he again advances on his recreant foe and seizes the vacant throne without a struggle. Ill-fated northeast! hadst thou but ruled with moderation when thou hadst gained, with masterly manoeuvre, the throne of the air; hadst thou reserved thy forces against surprise, and not, with prodigal profuseness, lavished them on thy harmless subjects, thou hadst still been monarch of the sea and air; all would have blessed thee as the restorer of peace, and as the deliverer of the ocean from western despotism. But alas! how art thou fallen an everlasting example of overreaching oppression.
"This evening there is a fine fair wind from northeast carrying us on at the rate of five or six knots. This is the cause of the foregoing rhapsody. Had it been otherwise than a fair wind I should never have been in spirits to have written so much stuff."
Still tantalized by baffling head winds and alternating calms and gales, they were, however, gradually approaching the coast. Omitting the entries of the next eleven days, I shall quote the final pages of the journal.
"_Wednesday, 18th October._ Last night was a sleepless night to us all.
Everything wore the appearance of a hard storm; all was dull in the cabin; scarce a word was spoken; every one wore a serious aspect and, as any one came from the deck into the cabin, the rest put up an inquisitive and apprehensive look, with now and then a faint, "Well, how does it look now?" Our captain, as well as the pa.s.senger captain, were both alarmed, and were poring over the chart in deep deliberation. A syllable was now and then caught from them, but all seemed despairing.
"At ten o"clock we lay to till twelve; at four again till five. Rainy, thick, and hazy, but not blowing very hard. All is dull and dismal; a dreadful state of suspense, between feelings of exquisite joy in the hope of soon seeing home, and feelings of gloomy apprehension that a few hours may doom us to destruction.
"_Half-past seven._... Heaven be praised! The joyful tidings are just announced of _Land!!_ Oh! who can conceive our feelings now? The wretch condemned to the scaffold, who receives, at the moment he expects to die, the joyful reprieve, he can best conceive the state of our minds.
"The land is Cape Cod, distant about ten miles. Joyful, joyful is the thought. To-night we shall, in all probability, be in Boston. We are going at the rate of seven knots.
"_Half-past 9._ Manomet land in sight.
"_Ten o"clock._ Cape Ann in sight.
"_Eleven o"clock._ Boston Light in sight.
"_One o"clock._ HOME!!!"
[Ill.u.s.tration: On board the Ship Ceres Boston Harbour