The World of Waters | Page 4

not in the least surprised
at the language of the ill-used sailors. He had no good feature in his
character that I could discover; for he was mean, vulgar, discontented,
and brutal. He never encouraged the men in the performance of their
duty, by kind expressions; on the contrary, he never addressed them on
the most simple matter without oaths and imprecations, and oftentimes
enforced his commands with a rope's end or his fist.
"We had yet other causes of discomfort besides these continual uproars.
Contrary winds, constant gales, and violent storms, made our hearts fail
from fear. We knew the captain could not expect His blessing, whose
laws he openly set at defiance; indeed, by his life and conversation, he
proved that he 'cared for none of these things.'
"I believe he was a clever seaman: he had certainly had much
experience, having been upwards of fifty times across the Atlantic: so
that we felt at ease with regard to the management of the ship. But we
did not put our trust in the skill of the captain alone; for of what avail
would that be if the Lord withheld his hand, and left us to perish? No!
my dears, we saw that the captain never prayed, and we felt there was a
greater necessity for us to be diligent in the duty; and daily, nay hourly,
we entreated the forbearance and assistance of Almighty God to
conduct us in safety to land.
"After a time, the men became very unmanageable; for they hated the
captain: he treated them like slaves, and imposed upon them on every
occasion; so that at length, goaded to desperation by his cruelty, they
positively refused to handle a rope until he agreed to the terms they
intended to propose.
"The captain, fierce as he was, felt it would be useless to contend with
twenty angry men, and he knew the passengers would not befriend him:
he therefore deemed it expedient to endeavor to conciliate them by
promises he never intended to perform, and, after a few hours'

confusion, all was again comparatively quiet.
"I could tell you much more about the quarrels and disturbances of
which we unfortunate passengers had to be the passive witnesses, and
which, accustomed as we were to them in the day-time, filled me with
greater horror than I can describe, breaking upon the stillness of the
night, when all was quiet but the troubled ocean, whose murmurs,
instead of arousing, served to lull us into a deeper repose. Yes, often,
when no other sound but the low splashing of the waves against the
side of the ship was to be heard, and we were all either sleeping quietly,
or thinking deeply of home and friends, loud cries and shouts would
reach us, and, in an instant, we would all be gathered together to
inquire into the cause of the disturbance. It was always the captain and
some of the men fighting; and on one occasion, the battle was so close
to us, actually in the cabin, between the captain and the steward, that I
screamed aloud, and do not remember ever to have been so much
alarmed.
"But as my principal object is to make you acquainted with Frederic
Hamilton, and not with my adventures, I will say no more about
Captain Simmons, and his ship, than is necessary in the course of my
tale.
"I was just getting over the unpleasant sensations of sea-sickness, when,
one morning as I was dressing in my berth, a noise of scuffling on the
quarter-deck, over my head, interrupted my operations. I laid my brush
on the table, and listened. At first I could distinguish nothing, and,
thinking it was the captain and a sailor disputing, I continued my toilet;
when, suddenly, a piercing cry reached me, and I knew the voice to be
Frederic's. At the same time the sound of heavy blows fell on my ear,
and again I recognized his voice: he called out so loudly, that I heard
him distinctly say, 'Oh, sir! have mercy. Pray, pray do not kill me! Oh,
sir! think of my mother, and have pity upon me. I will try to please you,
sir; indeed, indeed, I will. Oh, mercy! mercy!' His cries became fainter
and fainter, while the blows continued, accompanied occasionally by
the gruff voice of the captain, until, my soul shrinking with horror, I
could endure it no longer. I rushed out of my cabin, and there on the

poop beheld a sight I can never forget. Poor Frederic was lashed to the
shrouds with his hands above his head, which was then drooping on his
shoulder; his back bare and bleeding. The brutal captain was standing
by with a thick rope in his grasp, which, by the crimson stains upon