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CHAPTER II.

PASSAGE FROM NORFOLK TO RIO DE JANEIRO.

A

SERVICE.--A

CULPRIT.-CORPORAL PUNISHMENTS.-DIVINE BIRD.- -A GALE.-GRANDEUR OF THE GULF STREAM.-MAN MISSING.-TRACTS ON BOARD. WATER-SPOUT.-LIFE AT SEA.-AN ECLIPSE. THE SICK BAY.MORAL MECHANISM OF A MAN-OF-WAR.-SPEAKING A BRIG.-DEPARTURE OF MR. BEALE.-DEATH OF SPILLIER.-ASTOR-HOUSE SAILOR.-UNIVER- “ SALIST CHAPLAIN.-A PETREL.-SPEAKING A SHIP.-DEPARTURE OF MR. NORRIS.-CROSSING THE EQUATOR.-SOUTHERN CONSTELLATIONS.-A MAN

LOST.-LAND HO!

"The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared,

And merrily did we drop

Below the kirk, below the hill,

Below the lighthouse top."

FRIDAY, OCT. 31. A brilliant soft atmosphere; a light breeze from the southwest; average log, three knots; sounded in thirty-six fathoms; a sand and shell bottom; exercised the men at the guns from 10 to 12 o'clock; loaded the guns a little before sunset. One of the crew, after nightfall, watched his opportunity and knocked down a marine. The aggressor is one of those hardened fellows where the hope of reformation seems to despair in its work. He was flogged but a few days since for an aggravated offense. He has cruised before, and been notorious for his bad conduct. The best thing that could be

done with him would be to turn him out of the ship, but the law don't allow this. The next best thing is to try him by a court-martial, and award him a punishment that will linger with terror in his memory. I am opposed to severity when milder measures will avail; but leniency to the incorrigible is destructive of discipline.

Corporal punishments are opposed to the spirit of the age; but he would be worthy a monument who could invent an adequate substitute on board a manof-war. It is easy to pull down a house, but not so easy to build another on its ruins. Still the power to inflict corporal punishment is so liable to abuse, and is so often abused, I do not wonder public sentiment seems to demand its abolition. Could sailors be brought thoroughly under moral influences, it might be easily dispensed with. Virtue has motives and impulses to good conduct stronger than those The best obedience

ever wielded by physical force.
is that which flows from moral rectitude.

SATURDAY, Nov. 1. The high temperature of the water, which my boy brought me this morning for bathing, indicated that we were in the Gulf Stream. On inquiry, I ascertained that during the night we had penetrated near to its centre. This great river of the ocean holds its majestic course in seeming independence of the vast and violent elements through

which it moves. Storms may howl over it, and conflicting currents fiercely assail it, but it moves on in the tranquil greatness of its unabated strength. It never stops to parley with its adversaries, proposes no terms, accepts none; but like a brave champion of truth, moves steadily to its goal. In its equanimity, its fidelity to one great purpose, and its triumph, the God of Nature utters a moral lesson in the ear of nations.

Our coursers, topsails, top-gallant, and studdingsails are set to a free, fresh wind from the southwest, and we are making ten knots the hour. Our ship has been too much by the stern, but the removal of four of her spar-deck guns from her after to her forward ports, has brought her more by the head, and she sails better. Her constructor conjectured that if deep, she would sail better by being at least fifteen inches by the head. His conjecture turns out to be correct. She is now moving through the waters as if she had an exulting pride in her occupation. I do not wonder sailors regard a fast ship as a thing of life, and speak of her with an affection applicable only to the higher attributes of humanity. She is indeed the highest triumph of human skill-the noblest representative of art.

SUNDAY, NOV. 2. The Sabbath. The force of the wind and the roll of the ship might have excused

divine service with those disposed to find an apology for such omission. But we have commenced the cruise with the determination to have service every Sabbath when it is at all practicable. Regularity in this duty promotes regularity in every other. The discipline of a man-of-war lies in the fact that nothing is omitted that ought to be done. Besides what more appropriate for men, tost on the howling waste of the ocean, than a recognised dependence on that Being who binds the elements at his will; who can say to the rushing storm and chainless wave, hitherto shall ye come and no further, and here shall your proud strength be stayed.

Last evening a bird flew on board. He had been driven far out to sea in a gale, and now timidly sought our spars as a place of rest. No one was allowed to molest him for the night; in the morning, turning his eyes in that direction where the land lay, though some three hundred miles off, he bade us adieu and disappeared in the distant horizon. A safe passage to him and a speedy return to those left behind. He too has his home, and those there who make that home dear; and though but a bird of the wild wood, he shares the benevolent regard of One whose care extends to the falling sparrow, and who hears the young raven when it cries. If the bird whose wing is thrown on the wind to-day, and is furled in death to-morrow, may share the guardian

ship of the great Parent of all, much more man with his boundless sympathies and immortal hopes.

MONDAY, NOV. 3. The wind last night hauled several points to the east, and forced us north of our true course. We have been waiting for it to haul back, but it seems to have settled down as if determined to make itself at home in its new quarter. Well, let it stay there, if it will, and I will ponder these lines which I find inclosed in my last letter from home.

THE SAILOR'S WIFE.

Thou o'er the world and I at home,

But one may linger, the other may roam,

Yet our hearts will flee o'er the sounding sea,

Mine to thy bosom, and thine to me.

Thy lot is the toil of a roving life,
Chances and changes, sorrow and strife—
Yet is mine more drear to linger here-
In a ceaseless, changeless war with fear.

I watch the sky by the stars' pale light,
Till the day-dawn breaketh on gloomy night,
And the wind's low tone hath a dreary moan
That comes to my heart as I weep alone.

With the morning light, oh! would I could see

Thy white sail far on the breaking sea,

And welcome thee home, o'er the wild wave's foam,

And bid thee no more from my side to roam.

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