CHAPTER II.

On the 27th of July, 1850, I sailed from Baltimore in the ship _Nonantum_, of Boston, (Bates, master,) bound to San Francisco. In the ship’s hold was stowed one thousand and fifty tons of coal; the between-decks were filled with provisions for the steamers plying between Panama and the El Dorado of the West. The coal with which we were laden was taken from the Cumberland mines, brought directly to Baltimore in open iron cars, subject to frequent showers of rain on the way, and deposited in that condition in the ship.

With bright hopes and glowing anticipations we left our native land. Well was it that no prophetic visions presaged the future that awaited us. We were wholly unconscious at the time of the remarks uttered by the spectators assembled upon the wharf, to the effect that coal was a dangerous cargo to take upon so long a voyage.

By the lessons taught by the bitter experiences of that memorable year, many shipmasters have duly profited. Now, they stow their coal in casks, or in small quantities, have it dry when placed on board, and give it sufficient ventilation.

The ship’s crew consisted of the usual complement of sailors, first and second officers, carpenter, cook, and steward; also two boys, who particularly attracted my attention. They were pleasant little fellows, who, being possessed of a mania for the sea, had left their homes to seek their fortunes upon the treacherous deep. Many times during the voyage had they occasion to bless the captain’s wife for a bite of something good from the cabin table, slyly given to them, and in secret eaten.

This was not my first voyage. To me the cabin of a wave-tossed vessel, and a trip across the deep green ocean, was never monotonous or disagreeable, never being afflicted with that unpleasant nausea termed “sea-sickness,” so much to be dreaded, judging from the appearance and descriptions received. The separation from earth’s homes and loved hearts are all calculated to elevate the mind, and centre the soul’s best affections upon pure and holy objects. How often, hour after hour, have I sat gazing upon the boundless expanse of water, contrasting in my mind the utter insignificance of human power and skill, compared with the majesty of the Almighty Maker of the ocean and the land.

Moonlight nights at sea are my especial delight. How I love to gaze upon the illimitable deep, and watch each ripple gleaming and sparkling in the broad and trackless pathway like myriads of diamonds beneath the effulgent beams of the glorious orb of night! Almost imperceptibly, a holy calm pervades my being, and absorbs all other faculties. With what reluctant feelings, on such evenings as these, would I resign my seat upon deck, even after the night was far spent.

Before leaving Baltimore, my husband had purchased a beautiful Newfoundland dog, of the largest species; to which, on account of the remarkable sagacity he displayed, I became very much attached. In my daily promenade upon deck, he was ever by my side. Whenever a sail was discovered in the distance, he would place his huge fore-paws on the ship’s rail, and send his loud, hoarse bark reverberating far over the swelling wave.

Then I had two goats on board to furnish milk, not being sailor enough to drink the strong coffee made on ship-board. They were very playful, and once a day were allowed the liberty of the deck, which they readily improved by racing and frolicking about, in which they were joined by Dash.

In pleasant weather, when off the coast of Brazil, I have sat for hours on the ship’s rail fishing for albatross, one of the largest and most formidable of the South Sea birds, as they majestically sailed along in the wake of the ship, watching the bait (a piece of pork fastened to the hook, and a small bit of board attached to the line to float it,) so temptingly displayed. After swallowing it, and finding themselves captured, there was no struggling to free themselves, but, as you hauled in the line, they would sail gracefully along in all their native beauty and dignity. The assistance of the two boys was required in bringing them to the deck, where, after freeing them from the hook, (which, the boys always assured me, did not hurt them in the least,) they would survey the scene around them with a sort of contemptuous glance, as though they disdained their captors and the deception used to allure them from their native element. The goats, when freed from their inclosures, would advance towards them, rear themselves on their hind-legs, and shake their heads in defiance of the monster bird; while it, in turn, would snap its tremendous bill with such force, you could hear it ring from one part of the ship to the other; but they would never encounter one another except by threatening gestures. When we became satisfied with admiring our prisoner, two sailors would each grasp a wing, raise him to the side of the ship, give him a toss, and away he would soar; then light gracefully upon the water at a little distance, and view what I suppose he thought to be a huge monster which had held him in his grasp.

Another amusement was taking a dish of crumbs, and, by throwing over a handful, call a flock of cape-pigeons to the ship’s side. Each one eager to secure his share, they would dive far down into the clear water to get those that were sinking. Sometimes, to deceive them, I would throw over a bone that would sink rapidly. Down they would all go after it out of sight; then appear again, chattering,--scolding, I called the incessant noise they kept up. This bird resembles our tame pigeon, with the exception of being a little larger.

Flocks of “Mother Carey’s chickens” were occasionally following in our wake. Those tiny little things, ever on the wing, often excited my sympathy. About this time, the faithful dog I had learned to love so well sickened, and daily grew worse. Every remedy we could devise was called into requisition, but availed nought. One night, after I had retired, he dragged himself to my berth, placed his nose close to my face, and whined and moaned piteously. I afterwards thought it prophetic of evil in the future. Upon making my appearance upon deck the next morning, there lay the noble animal dead. Poor old Dash! the remembrance of thee and thy many virtues will live long on memory’s leaf.