THE VOYAGE OF THE "DUBLIN."

My first voyage, as officer, was made in the good ship "Dublin." She was six hundred tons register, and of the style said to be built, Down East, by the mile and sawed off. Her bow and stern were so square, they gave an impression of truth to this statement, but for all that she was a staunch, well built vessel, and though twenty-one years old was still an able and trustworthy ship. Her worthy owner, one of the merchant princes of Boston, used to go down on the wharf and rub his hands with delight when the old "Dublin" came into port. She was his favorite ship, and her blunt bow was more attractive to him than the rakish model of the modern clippers. He would tell how the copper bolts were driven into her, only one inch a day, to make them "fit solid;" how the timbers were "scarfed" and "dowelled," and many other things that it would need a ship builder's manual to interpret. He considered a great honor had been done me, by the permission to go to sea as third mate of her, and shook his head with misgivings when he heard that the captain had engaged so young and inexperienced an officer. I had been to sea four voyages, one of them over fourteen months around the world, before the mast. I could hand, reef and steer, and do the ordinary work on the rigging, as well as most sailors, so I did not consider my presumption very great.

Captain Streeter, her commander, was a fine-looking man of about forty years. He was tall and well formed, with dark complexion, black hair, beard and moustache, and a coal-black, flashing eye that bespoke a strong will and a passionate nature. He was very fluent in speech, and gave the impression on a first hearing that he was what sailors call "a blower."

When he engaged me, he gave a long and impressive harangue. He didn't want an officer that was afraid of sailors, but at the same time he allowed no one to abuse the crew, and especially objected to the use of profane language, which he condemned as the most foolish of practices. He appointed the day for me to come on board and I left him pleased with my success, but with a lurking suspicion that my fair-talking captain might prove to belong to the class known as "shore-saints and sea-devils." The owner, however, was one of the best men living, a noble philanthropist, and a vice-president of the Seamen's Friend Society. I therefore felt some assurance that his ship would have a respectable captain and be well conducted.

At six o'clock, one dark morning in the end of November, my fond father bade me farewell at the door, as I left my pleasant home and its gentle occupants, and trudged to East Boston, in a storm of sleet, to enter upon a sphere and mingle with associates so contrasted, that I needed no other illustration, for the next few months, to impress upon my mind the two extremes of the future life.

The ship was bound to Richmond, Virginia, in ballast, there to load a cargo of tobacco for the Mediterranean. In the forenoon, a negro crew of fourteen men and two boys came on board. They were mostly fine "strapping" fellows, with bright eyes and shining "ivories," and as we proceeded down the bay they made the decks ring with their songs; the main-topsail going to the mast-head to the tune of "Come down you bunch o' roses, come down," and the fore-topsail halyards answering to the strong pulls following the sentiment:

"Sally Brown's a bright Mulatto,
She drinks rum and chews tobacco."

A man who was loosing the mizzen-top-gallant-sail was heard to utter some profane exclamations over the bunt gasket, which was made fast with a knot that resisted all his efforts at untying, being what sailors call "an anti-gallican hitch." As I have mentioned, Capt. Streeter had remarked a few days before that he allowed no profane language on board of his ship, and I wondered if he would take any notice of this; but I did not wait long before having my curiosity satisfied. The same thought probably came to the captain's mind, for he stepped to where he could get a good look at the man, and then began: "Button your lip up, or I'll knock spots out of you. I don't allow swearing on board of this boat;" with more to the same effect, accompanied by several profane epithets. It was evident that the captain's fluency of speech was not limited to polite conversation, and his consistency was explained by his remarking, at a future time, that his rule on board ship was, "do as I order, not as I do."

The Pilot left at Boston Light. All hands were busily employed putting things to rights, for a ship is seldom in order except when at sea. There, men are constantly laboring to keep everything "ship-shape" and tidy, and the moment the vessel is moored at the wharf, crew and officers generally go over the side, stevedores, riggers and carpenters take possession, and the decks are in a turmoil until she is again out of the range of visitors.

It surprised me to see the captain interesting himself in all the work, for in previous voyages its execution had been left entirely to the officers. While the mate was securing the anchors, the captain visited the top-gallant forecastle and offered suggestions, which the high-spirited first officer treated with a contemptuous silence. The black eyes shone with suppressed rage, and their owner transferred his interference to the second mate's labors, which were being employed in putting on chafing-gear. He soon worked this officer into such a flurry, that he hardly knew whether he stood on his head or his heels, and then after putting a stop to a job the carpenter had undertaken, and peeping into the cook's boilers to see how much beef they contained, to the delight of all, he disappeared into the cabin, but in a few minutes his loud tones showed that the steward was the object of his attentions.

In the evening, after the watches were chosen, the captain joined the officers on deck and talked familiarly with us, illustrating his remarks by anecdotes and comparisons more amusing than refined. We were obliged to confess to each other that he was a very agreeable man in private, and for a time forgot all the mental imprecations we had bestowed on him during the day, on account of his interference with the work.

The mate and second mate had a talk by themselves concerning their duties, and the second mate, while expatiating upon his own good qualifications, put his hand in his pocket and pulling out a pair of brass knuckles put them upon his hand. Holding his fist up, he said: "I always carry my tools with me, and if you ever want any work done, you have only to say the word, and you'll find me on hand like Day and Martin's blacking."

"I don't want you to let me see those things again, while you're on board of this ship," said the mate.

"Why so; do you intend to let those sailors play Isaac and Josh with you?"

"No," said the mate, "but when I can't keep men in order, without using such weapons as that, I'll give up to some one who can. I never knew a man yet who carried such things but he proved to be a coward at heart."

"No man can call me a coward," replied the second mate in an angry tone.

"Well," said the mate, "I hope you are not one, but I shall think better of you if I hear nothing more about brass knuckles."

This was not a very pleasant opening of acquaintance, and both parties took at the outset a dislike to each other.

I gained from each of them a brief account of their antecedents.

Mr. Morrison, the first mate, was a Scotchman by birth, about forty-two years of age. He had been captain of English vessels, but having met with misfortunes, concerning which he was very reticent, he had begun to seek his fortune in the American merchant service. He was a short, thick-set man, with a ruddy complexion and a cast of countenance expressing courage and determination. His bearing was significant of "Scotch pride." He was a man of much intelligence and had received a good education.

Mr. Howard, the second mate, hailed from the State of Maine. He was of medium height and well built, but had a brutal look and seemed ordinary in intelligence. He frankly confided to me the immediate occasion of his shipping in the "Dublin."

"Last voyage I was second mate of the 'Minerva.' We had a nigger crew and used 'em pretty rough I must say; but I had 'em in such good discipline that one day I got mad with a 'moke' about something and I told him to lay his head down on the hatch for I was going to chop it off. He did just as I told him, and though he thought I was going to kill him, he didn't dare to move or say his soul was his own. That's what I call good discipline.

"We kept them under well enough at sea, but when we got into Rio Janeiro, what did the scamps do but set fire to the ship, and burn her up; and two days after a gang of 'em caught me one evening in the street, and gave me such a pounding that I couldn't see out of my eyes for a fortnight. I believe they'd have killed me if the police hadn't come along and rescued me. I vowed then I would sail just once more with a nigger crew, and from what I hear of this captain, I think he's just the man that'll suit me."

The "Dublin" had a fair start. In three days we sighted the Capes of Virginia and in two more worked up the James River to City Point. City Point then consisted of about twenty dwelling houses beside the negroes' cabins, and had wharves at which the vessels lay while receiving their cargoes of tobacco, which came to them in lighters from the city of Richmond, about thirty miles above, the shallowness of the river preventing anything but vessels of light draft from proceeding there. The tobacco was packed in large hogsheads, weighing from one thousand to eighteen hundred pounds, and as the crew hoisted them in they kept up a song from morning till night. Negro stevedores from the shore stowed them in the hold, and the captain spent almost all his time down there, watching that they saved all the room possible, frequently making them "break out" again, to the great disgust of the negroes. I heard one of them saying to the others: "I nebber see such a man as dis cap'n afore; he tinks he knows eberyting and nobody else don't know nuffin."

There was of course nothing here to interest us beyond receiving our tobacco, and when the ship was loaded to sixteen feet draft she dropped down the river ten miles, into deeper water, and there completed her cargo.

On a fine clear day in the end of December, we left the shore of Virginia astern and steered for the Straits of Gibraltar. Fresh and favorable winds prevailed for several days and we made good progress on our voyage.

One evening the captain in a confidential mood read us some extracts from the owner's letter of instructions, and was particularly merry over the latter part of it, which read: "You will distribute to the men the books and tracts which are supplied. You will endeavor to suppress all vice and immorality on board of your vessel and use your best efforts to promote the welfare of your crew."

The inmates of the ship now felt acquainted with each other, and as a general thing their good opinions were very much modified.

Capt. Streeter having no taste for reading, and being a man of energetic and active temperament, could not content himself in his cabin, and was almost constantly on deck roaming about the ship, criticizing every job of work, "in every body's mess and nobody's watch."

When bracing yards, making or taking in sail, he would stand on top of the house, and accompany his orders with volleys of oaths, provided things were not done exactly to his mind. If the crew did not move quite actively enough, and nothing in this way would suit him but the "clean jump," every blackguard epithet that his fluent tongue and inventive brain could command was heaped upon them: Scoundrels, black scorpions, and names too filthy for utterance were their common titles at such times, and when the men and officers did so well that he could not find a point to censure, he seemed rather disappointed at losing an opportunity for this favorite employment. Sailors call such a man, "a blower."

At night no one was allowed to sit down on deck, and though no work was to be done, the sailors had to keep on their legs. Such strict rules of course gave the officers a good deal of disagreeable work. From eight to twelve at night the men would have to walk the deck, unless engaged in working ship, and when at four o'clock, A.M., they were roused out, after four hours slumber, they could not always resist the temptation to sit down on a spar, or lean over a water-cask. In spite of their efforts to keep awake, their heads would drop upon their arms and they would fall asleep.

If anyone wishes to experience something which in his recollections will serve as a synonym for misery, let him sail in such a ship and stand the morning watch. In the hour from four to five as he stumbles about the deck, endeavoring to drive away the drowsiness that weighs down his eyelids, he will feel a wretchedness, which, unless he is a very unfortunate man, will seldom, if ever, be surpassed during his life.

The mate failed to carry out these orders very strictly, as he knew it could only be done by harsh measures; for though his fiery temper often led him to strike a blow at some unlucky sailor, he despised all premeditated schemes to abuse or oppress them. Besides this, he thought he saw through the captain's character. He imagined that he was anxious to gain for the "Dublin" the reputation of being a "hard" ship, provided his officers would do all the necessary "dirty work," but was unwilling to expose himself to the present dangers of fighting, or the future disgrace of lawsuits. Their relations to each other were not very pleasant, for the mate was jealous of the captain's interference with his work, and the captain, perceiving his state of mind, attempted to retaliate by little acts of oppression, of which one will be sufficient to show the spirit.

The mate's room was very small. His only convenience for writing up his log book was at a narrow standing desk, where he was too much cramped to do it neatly.

At the beginning of the passage he sat down at the table in the forward cabin to perform this part of his duty, and the captain coming from his spacious after-cabin found him there at work. Upon seeing him he drew himself up, and in a pompous way said: "Mr. Morrison, I want you to understand that my cabin table isn't a writing desk for officers."

"Oh, indeed," said the mate. "I've always been accustomed to have the use of it even for my private writing, and I had no idea you would object to my writing the ship's log here."

"You must learn you ai'n't aboard one of your lime-juice ships now," was the courteous response, and the mate retired to his room, his Scotch pride and temper almost overcoming his desire to respect the captain.

But the second mate was a man after the captain's own heart. It was only necessary to show him the way to the captain's good graces, and his subservience joined to his own brutal passions made him an earnest disciple.

The crew were a pretty independent and saucy set of negroes, and required a strict hand to keep them under. From the very first there had been almost daily little difficulties, and at one time at City Point a general knock-down was only prevented by the mate's interfering between the second mate and a sailor, to the great wrath of the former.

A few days after leaving the Chesapeake, Mr. Howard was going around the deck at about half-past four in the morning, and found a man called Brooks sitting down and nodding. He awakened him very suddenly by raising him up by the ears, and then set the whole watch to work bracing the yards "in" a little. The men were sleepy, and cross at this "humbugging," for they knew the wind had not altered at all, and this was merely a "work up job." They were not very prompt with their Aye, aye, sir.

"Haul in the top-gallant-brace" said the officer.

No answer followed, but he saw the order was obeyed.

"Belay!"

Still no answer.

"Sing out," said he; "if you don't open your gills I'll slaughter you. Haul in the royal-brace!"

No answer.

He turned in a rage and catching hold of Brooks, who was nearest him, gave him a blow with his brass knuckles that would have unsettled any ordinary head. But the darkey's skull was not very sensitive, and he at once drew his sheath-knife, and stabbed Howard in the abdomen. He had on thick clothes, and the knife after cutting through them inflicted only a small flesh wound. Howard was rather frightened by this episode, and not knowing how badly he was cut, upon seeing the other men seize handspikes and belaying pins ready to join Brooks, in case of any further attack, he thought it best to retreat. After breakfast he reported the case to the captain, who sent for Brooks to come into the cabin, where he took his position with a pistol and a fathom of ratline stuff. Having shut the door, so that there should be no witnesses, he made the man take off his shirt; and then flogged him till the blood flowed down his back, and the man's cries and promises made him desist.

The captain's prompt espousal of the second mate's cause showed that he would stand by his officers, and it had the effect of making the crew more respectful and careful.

Being the third mate, I was of course in the mate's watch; my duty was to follow up the execution of the mate's orders, and look after the little details of work. I must know the place for everything and see that it was in its place. When the decks were cleared up at night, if the mate in his inspection spied a stray marline-spike or serving-board, it was the third mate who had to answer for it. If a sailor wanted spunyarn or seizing-stuff to work with, it was the third mate who must know where to find it and run and get it, or if the lockers were not in order or the tar-barrel fetched adrift he was the first looked at for blame. In his turn of course he could growl at the sailors, but that was rather poor satisfaction, and he had not filled his office many days before he came to the conclusion that it was a most thankless billet, and that a third mate's portion contained "a larger share of kicks than of coppers." I was only nineteen years old. The sailors looked upon me as a youngster, and were not inclined to be particularly respectful, thinking I wouldn't dare to use force with them.

The captain watched me very closely, wishing to train me up in the way I should go, and many a harsh-sounding order or rebuke I got from him on deck, all the more galling because given in the presence of the men. But personally the captain seemed favorably inclined toward me, or else he feared lest I might make a report of his doings to the owner, and thus sought frequent opportunities to talk with me and smooth over my ruffled feelings. It is not customary for a captain to have any conversation with a third mate, and I was not quite sure as to his motive, though I leaned to the latter opinion, judging from the tenor of all his stories, talk and advice, which was to the sole end of discipline, or, perhaps more exactly, of fighting sailors. In consulting with the mate as to this he gave me a decided opinion. "All the old man wants," said he, "is to have you tarred with the same brush as himself, and then he thinks you wouldn't injure him ashore, for you know it doesn't do for the pot to call the kettle black."

One day we were reefing the mizzen-topsail and I was astride of the yard-arm hauling out the weather earing. The captain saw from the deck that the men had not gathered up all the slack sail on top of the yard, before tying the reef-points; and he at once set up a roar of mingled oaths and orders, which, with a storm howling past my ears produced a bewildering effect. With some difficulty I divined the pith of his remarks, and gave the necessary directions; but this was not enough for the captain, who sang out to me, "What's the use of sitting there and talking to them, get up on the yard and kick their heads off." A good deal more followed, but I was too angry to hear anything else and paid no attention.

The captain saw that I was rather out of sorts for the rest of the day, and in the dog-watch came up to me as I was leaning against the booby-hatch and began in his pleasant fluent way to tell me a story.

"You never met Mr. Jones of Baltimore did you?"

"No sir, I never did."

"Well, he was my second mate, when I had the ship 'Daphne' in the China trade."

I had heard from good authority on shore that the "Dublin" was the only ship Capt. Streeter had ever commanded, and since being at sea with him I had learned that Mr. Jones was his ideal officer, and whenever he wished to give a hint to his present mates upon points where he felt he could not command, his favorite and usual method was to convey it in a story about Mr. Jones, and Mr. Jones' name had already become a by-word among the officers. I knew what was coming and prepared to receive instructions.

"Mr. Jones," continued the captain, "never went aloft to reef topsails without having a belaying pin stuck into the leg of his boot. He used to take his stand in the slings of the yard, and if the sail wasn't picked up pretty lively, before you could count twenty he would have been out on both yard-arms, and hit every man a tap on the head that made 'em take hold like young tigers. Then when the sail was reefed he'd sing out, 'lay down,' and as every man got into the rigging, if he wasn't mighty spry, he'd get helped along with a kick, and then he followed the last man down and jumped on his head and shoulders, if he could overtake him. I tell you it was fun to see them scatter when he said 'lay down.' They would come sliding down the backstays like a parcel of monkeys, and once a Dutchman, who happened to be the last man, and saw the second mate's boots just above his head, got so frightened that he jumped down from half way up the main-rigging and broke his leg. I had to scold Jones though a little for that, as the galoot was laid up the rest of the voyage."

"I should think that was rather poor economy," said I, "to lose a man's labor for several months, for the sake of gaining a few seconds time in getting down from aloft."

"It paid though, after all," answered the captain, "for Jones could get as much work out of six men as some could out of a dozen. It's worse economy to be too humane with sailors."

"If that is being a smart officer I hardly think I shall become one," said I.

"I'll tell you what it is, you'll never make one unless you give up some of your conscientious scruples. I must say you do very well about your work, but you're too humane a man to go to sea, and if you want to get along in this profession you've got to leave your nice principles on shore. There's no religion off soundings. The captain of a ship has got to be a liar, a cheat, a swearer, a fighter and a tyrant; in fact, if you mean to be a good mate or a good captain you've got to be a rascal."

"If good principles are good for anything they are good for everything," I replied, "and if what you say is true, either this is a profession no one ought to follow or else religion is a sham and ought to be hove overboard entirely. A good God would never have imposed laws upon us which would interfere with our necessary occupations, and I don't believe he meant the Golden Rule to be confined to the shore."

"That all sounds very fine," said the captain, "and perhaps you'd better knock off going to sea and set up for a parson. But you mark my words, if you go to sea, you'll have to give up your principles sooner or later, and you may as well make up your mind to it now. I've seen a good many that started as fair as you've done, but it didn't last long. But here we've got proof right alongside of us. Just look at Mr. Howard's watch there. Every time he opens his mouth you see them piling along like greased lightning, and he gets half a dozen answers for every order. But your men don't answer you half the time, and they move slower than real estate in Chelsea.

"Now if you saw a man walking alongside of a high brick wall, and you politely asked him to step along a little faster, he'd stop and look at you; but if you told him the brick wall was tumbling down over his head you'd see how quick he'd make the dust fly. It's just so with a sailor, if you are civil to him he won't care a curse for you, but if you let him know there's something coming down on his head he'll move quick and respect you. A man didn't answer Mr. Jones once, and he just picked up the carpenter's caulking mallet and hit him over the head. He never had to speak twice to him after that."

Finding the captain had got back to his favorite Mr. Jones, I thought it was of no use to prolong the talk, and it being my watch below I went to my room. Sitting down upon my chest I thought of the contrast between the captain's instructions and the teachings of home, and wondered if I must abandon the latter. It was very evident that there was not the strict discipline in the mate's watch that there was in the second mate's, and the captain's comparisons galled me; but it seemed to me that the discipline in our watch was good enough; the men did their duty well and were respectful, except that they were not always particular about answering and sometimes walked along the deck to ordinary work, whereas the second mate's men always ran, knowing that a belaying pin or stick of fire-wood would be hurled after them if they didn't. I felt the captain was right in saying that such strict discipline could not be maintained, except by working on the fears of the men, but the question with me was whether it was necessary to be so strict. Our men in a squall, or gale of wind, would be just as smart as the second mate's. It was only in ordinary and comparatively unimportant work that they were at all behind-hand, and I made up my mind that a system which necessarily required inhumanity and a sacrifice of honorable principles must be wrong, and I would have as little to do with it as possible. Opening my chest I took out a bundle of letters and selected one from my father. It was an answer to one I had written from City Point, in which I spoke of the severe discipline which was maintained on board the "Dublin," and the course which was required of the officers, and asked for advice.

The reply was as follows: "I see that you are partaking of the responsibilities of life. I should wink at some things—not see them. I would not be what they call a 'martinet' in discipline, making much of little things, and enforcing little rules with an air of authority. But I would establish my character with the men for good nature, making them feel that in not obeying they offend against kindness. I do believe that the Gospel contains all the principles necessary to guide us in government, and that the ways in which God treats us may often safely be adopted. Men are very sensitive to kindness. If you have opportunity to show it without risking authority, it is well. I do not believe that it is necessary to speak always in a tone of stern authority. I would be very slow to strike if I were you. But remember that you are now one of the 'powers that be,' and they are 'ordained of God.' He will help you govern if you look to him, for government is a divine ordinance; and a third mate is as really government as Lords of Admiralty or Secretary of the Navy."

After reading this over again, I imagined how Capt. Streeter would sneer at the idea of influencing sailors by kindness, and could almost hear him saying, "The only thing that will influence a sailor is a belaying-pin. Be kind to them and they'll only laugh at you."

When twelve days out the welcome cry of "Land, ho!" was heard in the morning, and in the horizon, above a low, narrow bank of clouds, appeared the top of the mountain on Pico, one of the "Western Islands," or Azores, at least sixty miles distant. This mountain is over 7,500 feet high, and can be seen in a clear day one hundred miles at sea. In the afternoon we passed to the southward of, and near to, Fayal, then by Pico, catching a glimpse of St. George's Island in the distance between them. The rich verdure of these islands and their elevations—for Fayal has a mountain of three thousand feet—were pleasant changes from the blue and level waters; and all enjoyed that beautiful afternoon as we glided swiftly by these mid-ocean oases. Even the captain and second mate laid aside their accustomed scowl, and not an oath polluted the balmy atmosphere. St. Michael's was passed on the starboard hand in the evening, and the next day we came up with an English schooner bound from London to St. Michael's, but steering for Spain. Capt. Streeter told the skipper that he had sighted the island the evening before, and gave him his longitude. The schooner turned about and steered in the other direction.

It was blowing a pleasant westerly breeze this day; but at noon a school of porpoises came dashing along, passed the ship's bow without stopping to play around it, as they are so fond of doing, and made away towards the north-east. The captain said it was a sure sign that the wind was coming from that quarter; for sailors regard it as an established fact that porpoises either go "head to the wind," or else towards the quarter of a coming breeze.

The porpoises and the captain were right this time. The wind gradually hauled around by the N. to N.E., and by night the ship was braced sharp up on the port tack. The Mother Carey's chickens were flitting about in the ship's wake very actively, uttering their feeble chirps with more animation than usual. The captain, noticing them, and at the same time perceiving a low bank of clouds to windward, predicted a speedy advent of the gale. He proved a correct interpreter of the signs. We were called out in the night to shorten sail, and for twenty-four hours were hove to under the close-reefed main-topsail. Speaking of the Mother Carey's chickens, the captain asked me if I ever had smelt one, and said:

"I once caught one with a hook and line, and killed it, thinking I would stuff it; but I had not got far along with the work before the odor made me sick, and I hove it overboard. Though it was eight years ago, the smell is on my hands still. You know they say, that all the sailors that die at sea turn into Mother Carey's chickens, and the captains into albatrosses; and I expect this odor hangs on to me because I love sailors so well. But I must give you a chance to judge for yourself."

A day or two after, in a calm, he shot one at a little distance from the ship, and made one of the boys jump overboard and swim for it, in spite of his dread of sharks. When he had obtained it he roused me out of a sound nap to come out and smell of it, very much to my disgust. I found its odor was, to say the least, rather disagreeable.

The afternoon before making the land, the captain ordered the mate to get the anchors on to the rail and bend the chains. Mr. Morrison proceeded to carry out the order, but to his great annoyance Capt. Streeter came forward and kept putting in his oar, giving suggestions and directions. This was a thing so peculiarly in the mate's province, which, if one did not understand it, would prove him lacking in the lowest qualifications for a mate's situation, that the worthy official's temper was greatly aroused. He suppressed it for a time; but at each interference his face grew redder and redder, and when at last the captain told him that the ring of the anchor ought to be brought closer up to the cat-head, the storm burst forth, and turning around with a fiery face and defiant eye, he said, "Capt. Streeter, just go aft and mind your own business; I can take care of the anchors."

"I want you to know that I am captain of this ship, and I'll do what I please," answered the captain, pale with rage.

"I know you're cap'n; but I want you to know the owners put me aboard to be mate, and I've let you do my work long enough."

All the men stood amazed at the mate's daring in thus confronting our ferocious captain, and looked for nothing short of his being murdered; but to our great surprise the captain cooled down, and in a mild, persuasive way said: "But, Mr. Morrison, just look at the philosophy of the thing," (a favorite phrase with him), "you see if that anchor—"

"There's no philosophy about it," burst out the mate's sharp voice. "I don't want to have any talk with you. I'll only treat you with the contempt you deserve," and turning his back towards him, he drowned another mild reply by shouting: "Lower away the fish-tackle!" and giving continuous orders to the men. The captain, finding himself literally checkmated, walked aft, apparently calm, but with a tempest raging within. He sat down on the booby-hatch, and tried to devise some means of humiliating the mate. His schemes always reached their culminating point in his brick-wall theory, but when he thought of the expediency of applying it in this case, and letting the brick-wall come down on Mr. Morrison's head, he muttered: "He's such a fiery tempered man, I guess it won't do."

As soon as the mate had got the anchors placed, he told me to secure them and to clear up, and then went aft, thinking he might as well settle matters now, if they needed any more settlement.

The men all took sly glances after him, and whispered to each other that they thought there'd be a fight now; and some offered to bet the mate would come out best. The captain was very much the mate's superior in size and build; but the latter was a perfect tiger when aroused, and was just as fearless, in fact, as the captain in his harangues to his officers pretended to be.

As soon as he got aft the captain caught a glance of his eye, and his brick-wall plans were entirely dispelled. In a conciliatory tone he began, "Mr. Morrison, I think there's no need of your getting so excited about a little thing. You know every one has their little ways."

"I know you have," said the mate, "and very contemptible ones they are. I came aboard of this ship with as good a will as ever a man had, and meant to do my duty faithfully, but you've interfered with all my work; you stop every job that I get under way, and though I've been twenty-five years to sea, I'm not trusted even to bend a jib or brace the foreyard."

"But you know I'm captain of the ship, Mr. Morrison."

"Then you ought to keep in the captain's place, unless there's nobody below you that knows anything. But from the first day I came on board, you've undertaken to do my work, and you don't know whether I am capable of it or not; and you've done it so poorly, I'm ashamed to have the ship go into port. I've always seen a captain show some respect to his mate; but you never have a civil word for me on duty, and your silly, lying stories don't make up for it."

"You must make allowances," replied the captain; "you can't expect a man always to be smooth-tempered. When Mr. Jones was with me, I—"

"Mr. Jones was a fool, if all you say of him is true," interrupted the mate. "No one with any respect for himself can make allowance enough for you; your knock-down principles and vile language are disgraceful."

For every word the captain advanced, the mate brought out two dozen, and so fast there was no interrupting him. At last the captain found a retreat by noticing that the sails were lifting, and he gave the order to brace forward the yards and take in the lower-studding-sail. Going to the cabin he for once left the mate to work alone, and afterwards found some relief to his pent up rage by calling the two boys to come aft with a watch-tackle and taughten up the ropes.

There was kept hanging up in front of the cabin a fathom of ratline stuff, doubled up and seized, so as to make a loop for the hand and bring the two ends together. Slipping this over his hand and shaking the ends, he called out the ropes to the boys, and if they made any mistake, or were not quite lively enough, he gave them what he called a dose of rope-yarn tea, by bringing the "cat" down on their backs. This treatment made them so bewildered and frightened that they made all the more blunders, and half of the time got hold of the wrong ropes, giving the captain an excuse for beating them to his heart's content.

He found this such a good relief for a pent-up temper that he frequently put it in practice, when galled by the mate's contempt and indifference, and all through the voyage the boys were made the scape-goats for Mr. Morrison's sins against the captain.

That evening the captain told me that if the night was fine he expected to sight Cape Spartel, the point of the African coast at the entrance of the Straits, before morning, as it was mountainous land and could be seen sixty or eighty miles. At 2, A.M., the lookout discovered it on the starboard bow. I went into the cabin, and waking up the captain said to him:

"Cape Spartel is in sight, sir!"

"What!" said he, in a very sharp tone.

I repeated it, and went on deck.

Soon the captain came out and after looking at the land, without addressing any one, began to swear in a loud tone, saying, "I expect my officers will take charge of the ship soon, for even the third mate undertakes to tell me what land we make." A good deal more followed about "making them know their place."

When he had gone below I asked the mate, what all this breeze meant? The mate asked me what I said to the captain when I called him, and then said to me, "The old man must be raving because you said Cape Spartel is in sight, instead of saying 'there's land in sight.'"

"Well, I must say, he is stuck up," said I. "I asked him the other day what the longitude was, and I thought he was going to eat me up, he gave me such a savage look, and all the satisfaction I got was the information that it was the first time a third mate had ever asked him such a question. He makes so free with me telling his dirty stories and spinning yarns about Mr. Jones, that it didn't occur to me I was going to insult his dignity by asking such a question."

"I could tell him," said the mate, "that he is the first captain I ever knew to spin yarns to his third mate. His dignity begins at the wrong place. If he wants his officers to respect him, he must show himself worthy of respect, instead of being the blackguard that every true man must loathe."

There was this peculiarity about the cabin, that sounds from the deck could be heard there very distinctly, and as the mate was in the habit of holding forth to me in a night-watch concerning the captain's character, that individual often got the benefit of it. It was contrary to his idea of discipline also to have any conversation carried on between officers on duty, and only a few days before he had told me that he did not wish me to talk with the mate.

All these remarks just made found their way to the captain's opened ears. To put a stop to it he came out on deck, and passing by us walked aft without saying a word. Upon looking in the binnacle he saw by the compass that the ship was a point off her course, and jumping to the rail he drew out a belaying pin and struck the man at the wheel two or three blows on the head. He then went around the lee side into the cabin, and the mate coming aft found the helmsman crying, and learned the cause.

The next forenoon brought the ship into the Straits of Gibraltar, and the interesting scenery did a little towards relieving the ill-humor which had settled on all both fore and aft, in consequence of the events of the last twenty-four hours. The wind was from the eastward, dead ahead, and as the ship beat from shore to shore through its length of fifty miles, striking and constantly changing views were presented by the rugged African mountains on one hand, the more fertile Spanish hills on the other, and ahead, the noble and world-renowned Rock of Gibraltar, three miles in length and 1600 feet high. Its outlines well represent a crouching lion, an appropriate symbol of its silent batteries, ready at a moment's notice to pour forth destruction upon an approaching foe. A strong current runs almost always from the Atlantic into the Mediterranean, though modified by an easterly wind, and this helped the "Dublin" to windward, so that at night she passed Gibraltar looming up high and dark against the starlit sky.

That evening the captain tried his usual panacea upon my moodiness, I being the only officer he seemed anxious to propitiate, for reasons best known to himself. His conversation comprised stories about "Mr. Jones," and explanations of the "philosophy of the thing" as applied to currents, which in this case he demonstrated, that as water cannot always run into a place unless some runs out, there must be a hole underneath the Isthmus of Suez to let it run through into the Red Sea. And then he evidenced that he was not insensible to the influence of the noble scenes and historical interest which had surrounded us that day, by remarking how much of a charm it gave to sea-life to visit such interesting localities, and he added: "How pleasant it is too, to think that we are going to visit the land where our Saviour was born!"

I was almost as much astonished by the fact of the captain's mentioning that name calmly and soberly, as at the information that Christ was born in Italy. I had already measured his stock of knowledge, and had received many similar pieces of information before, which, knowing the captain's conceitedness and temper, I thought it good policy not to contradict; though even my usual reply of, "Is it so, sir?" sometimes aroused his ire, as implying a doubt of his correctness in making assertions; such, for instance, as, that Gibraltar belonged to France, or that the clouds were six hundred miles above the earth, or that the moon had no influence over the tides. I felt inclined to try the experiment, if it was possible to convince him of an error, or rather to make him acknowledge one—a matter upon which I had great doubt. I cautiously said: "Christ wasn't born in Italy, was he, sir?"

"Of course not," said the captain; "haven't you read the Bible enough to know that? I mean Europe; doesn't Italy belong to Europe?"

"Yes, sir," I replied; "but I've always understood that Christ was born in Palestine, which is a country of Asia."

"Of course he was," said the captain. "I know that very well; and that's just what I meant to say. We're going to visit that part of the world where Christ was born. Europe, Asia and Africa make one hemisphere, don't they?"

"Yes, sir."

"And isn't America a separate one?"

"Yes, sir: one is called the Eastern, and the other the Western hemisphere."

"Of course it is," said the captain. "I believe if you got two ideas in your head at once, it would bu'st." He turned haughtily away as though he had convinced me of the ignorance of not knowing either where Christ was born, or which hemisphere the "Dublin" was sailing in; but for the next few days I heard nothing more about "Mr. Jones," "philosophy," Scripture or geography, but had a good share of harsh-sounding orders and snarling rebukes when about my work, and the reason of it I well understood.

The winds were rather light and baffling in the Mediterranean, and the ship made slow progress. But the weather was charming. Sea and sky were of that deep blue which is world-renowned, and which make this sea emphatically "the blue Mediterranean." Some days, so clear was the air as almost to impress one with the idea of the vastness and emptiness of space, and when, commonly speaking, the sky seemed to have disappeared. But at evening little clouds would gather about and lend their bright hues to adorn the sunset.

For a week after leaving Gibraltar things went on quietly on board ship, and I had great hopes that the passage would end peacefully. But it must needs be that offences come at sea, and one more row had to be passed through before the harbor of Genoa was reached.

There was a man on board called Jake, a powerful "six-footer," and one of the best sailors and most cheerful and active of the crew.

One afternoon, the second mate pointed him out to the captain, and said: "That's a good man; he's as smart as a steel trap, and a willing fellow, too."

"Yes," said the captain, "I think he is; but don't you tell him so, for if you do, it won't last much longer."

"No fear, sir," said Mr. Howard, "I don't give compliments to sailors very often."

That night Mr. Howard had the first watch on deck, and at about 11 o'clock the wind hauled aft a little, giving opportunity to set the studding-sails. He gave the necessary orders at once; and Jake was the first one to get into the rigging and mount to the foreyard to cast the heel-lashing of the boom adrift. He was not ready with it when the others came up with the ropes to reeve, and the second mate hurried him up with frequent phrases, such as, "Bear a hand;" "Let's hear from you there;" "What do you say, now?" and then asked: "What's the matter, there?"

"The heel-lashing's jammed, sir," was answered.

"Bear a hand and clear it then," said he.

"I'm doing it as fast as I can," said the man, in a sharp, surly tone.

Mr. Howard was not accustomed to have sailors talk to him in that style, and he gave him a round of curses, and asked him if he knew who he was talking to.

Jake made no reply, but worked away at the lashing.

In a little while Mr. Howard hailed him again: "Are you most ready there?"

No answer came, and a repetition of the question followed, with sundry additions, and, as the officer thought, embellishments.

The reply this time came in the shape of a loud, clear "No!"

It is considered almost as great an insult to an officer as a man can offer, to omit the little word "Sir," in replying to him; and this is at the bottom of many a tale of severity, or even murder at sea.

Only stopping to utter one oath, Mr. Howard sprang into the rigging, ran aloft and swung himself with one hand on to the foreyard. Jake, seeing him coming, had laid out towards the yard-arm, and called out to him: "If you strike me I'll cut your heart out!"

Ever since the stabbing affray, Mr. Howard had enlarged his stock of pocket-tools, and now pulled out a slung-shot. Going out on the yard, he stood on it holding on to the fore-lift with one hand, while with the slung-shot in the other he attempted to strike Jake on the head. He missed his mark, however, and the shot flew out of his grasp and fell on deck. He had on a pair of thin and well-worn shoes; but with these he kicked the man until they flew off his feet overboard. By this time Jake had crawled in past him, and started for the deck. Upon reaching it, he picked up a capstan bar and took his stand with it over his shoulder, until the second mate was nearly down the rigging, then he suddenly aimed a blow at him with all his force, intending to knock him overboard. He was too much excited to take exact aim, and the bar struck a ratline and broke it, grazed Mr. Howard's leg and broke another ratline. Mr. Howard jumped upon deck, and the man turned furiously upon him, striking at his head with the heavy oak capstan bar, and swinging it about him in a most determined way. The second mate dodged and retreated aft, closely pursued by Jake; and one of the boys was so terrified that he ran into the cabin and called out to the captain: "One of the men is trying to kill the second mate." Capt. Streeter never slept in his bed at sea, or removed his clothes at night; but always lay stretched out on a sofa in the cabin, with a pistol near him, ready for a call. He at once sprang up and rushed on deck, and there found Jake swinging the capstan bar from side to side, and Mr. Howard eluding his blows and making vain attempts to close with him.

"Put down that handspike!" shouted the captain.

But it swung as fast as ever; and the captain now showed more courage than Mr. Morrison had given him credit for, by rushing at him just as he swung his weapon to one side, and seizing it before he could return a blow. With Mr. Howard's help he wrested it from him, and telling that officer to hold on to him, he seized the end of the crossjack-brace (a two and a half inch rope), and beat him over the back, until he cried most piteously for mercy, and made many promises of future good behavior. This did not satisfy Mr. Howard, who, as soon as the captain had let him go, put his brass knuckles on his right hand, and striking Jake a heavy blow, threw him to the deck. He then kneeled upon him, clutched his throat with the left hand, and with the knuckles beat him in the face. The man gasped out cries and entreaties, saying: "Take him off, cap'n; take him off. Don't let him kill me." And at last the captain had to catch Howard's arm and say to him: "I guess that'll do, Mr. Howard. He's got enough for this time."

Jake's face was a sorry-looking object the next day, and for some days after; and he told the mate he thought one of his ribs was broken. But he kept at his work as well as he could, and always was particular about answering Mr. Howard with a "Sir!"

Things went on again quietly, and in three or four days more we were off the Gulf of Lyons. The prospect of soon reaching port cheered all on board, and all but Jake seemed lively and even happy.

We signalized the ship "Martha Dutton," Capt. Cheever, when a day's sail from Genoa; and it immediately after came on to blow a heavy gale from the south-west. Capt. Cheever was an old sea-captain, and adhered to the prudent rule of not approaching a lee shore in a gale of wind, within less than the distance of a day's drift (say sixty miles), and after awhile he hove his ship to, and waited for a better chance to make the land.

Capt. Streeter kept the "Dublin" running before the wind into the Gulf of Genoa; and as the next morning brought a head wind when he was in sight of his port, he was very much the gainer for his attempt. When Capt. Cheever arrived three days after him, he shook his head and told Capt. Streeter he had done the most hair-brained act he ever knew the master of a ship to commit.

The "Dublin" had yet one day more to wait before dropping her anchor. The head wind lasted until she had beat up within two miles of the mole of Genoa, and then it died away calm and continued so, with occasional light airs from the shore. There was no anchorage, and as the ship slowly drifted from one side of the bay to the other, we had a fine chance to take a sea-view of the renowned city of Genoa.

It is situated at the head of the Gulf of Genoa, and at the centre of an amphitheatre of high hills, which rise quite abruptly from the sea. On either hand the mountainous coast stretches away in a vast semi-circle beyond the range of vision. The snow capped Apennines tower behind and around it, making a noble background to the beautiful picture. The city itself rises on the steep hills, whose tops for seven miles are lined with forts, so that from the sea almost every street can be seen, and the tall houses and palaces mount one above the other, giving one an impression that a slight convulsion might send them all sliding down into the sea.

The harbor, or mole, is formed by a sea-wall extending across the semi-circle made by the immediate hills, securing anchorage where the vessels moor stem and stern with their own anchors.

This evening as the sun went down behind the mountains, a scene was formed never to be forgotten. The beautiful blue sky was lit up by brilliant clouds which, reflected in the still waters, made the sea almost as glowing as the sky. The mountain sides took every shade of the darker colors, while their snow-capped peaks blushed with the crimson tints of sunset. The next morning's sunrise was also a charming scene, but with it came what was far more acceptable, a good breeze, and the ship was pointed towards the city. A pilot came off to meet us, but refused to come on board, as the health officers had not yet ascertained whether the ship had any infectious disease on board; but he told the captain to follow his boat, and leading the way into the mole, pointed out the spot in the quarantine ground where she should drop anchor. The captain went ashore in a boat, and was rowed to a flight of steps, which led into a small room with no other egress than the door by which he entered. A narrow window opened from it into another room where were several officials, and one of them approached the window with a pair of tongs, and reaching them out took from the captain the ship's papers. After smoking them in the chimney for a minute, he ventured to inspect them. Capt. Streeter was then ordered to return to his ship, and after a visit from the health officer, who found everything satisfactory, order was given to air all the bedding and clothing, to hoist the yellow flag, and remain in quarantine for three days, when, if things still appeared well with regard to the sanitary condition of the ship, she would be permitted to discharge. Capt. Streeter's Yankee energy and impatience chafed a little at this delay, but in spite of growling and swearing, he had to remain in solitary confinement for three days, and when at last the order for release came, and the ship was allowed to take her place in the tiers, he went to work at discharging with an enterprise and will that created astonishment, not only to the Genoese, but to all the fleet. Every morning they were waked up by the song of the crew, as they commenced at five o'clock in the morning to hoist out the tobacco, for it is not customary in port to "turn to" until six, and all day long such choruses as "Walk along my Sally Brown," and "Hoist her up from down below," rang over the harbor, with all the force that a dozen hearty negroes could give them. When the "shanty man" became hoarse, another relieved him, and thus the song and work went along, and in a fortnight the captain astonished and vexed the consignees by reporting his ship as all discharged and ready for her outward cargo, whereas they had allowed her a month's time for this, and the intended cargo of marble had not yet arrived from the quarries at Carrara.