Two Years Before the Mast | Page 8

to me, unintelligible orders constantly given, and rapidly
executed; and the sailors ``singing out'' at the ropes in their hoarse and
peculiar strains.
In addition to all this, I had not got my ``sea legs on,'' was dreadfully
sea-sick, with hardly strength enough to hold on to anything, and it was
``pitch dark.'' This was my condition when I was ordered aloft, for the
first time, to reef topsails.
How I got along, I cannot now remember. I ``laid out'' on the yards and
held on with all my strength. I could not have been of much service, for
I remember having been sick several times before I left the topsail yard,
making wild vomits into the black night, to leeward. Soon all was snug
aloft, and we were again allowed to go below. This I did not consider
much of a favor, for the confusion of everything below, and that
inexpressible sickening smell, caused by the shaking up of bilge water
in the hold, made the steerage but an indifferent refuge from the cold,
wet decks. I had often read of the nautical experiences of others, but I
felt as though there could be none worse than mine; for, in addition to
every other evil, I could not but remember that this was only the first
night of a two years' voyage. When we were on deck, we were not
much better off, for we were continually ordered about by the officer,
who said that it was good for us to be in motion. Yet anything was

better than the horrible state of things below. I remember very well
going to the hatchway and putting my head down, when I was
oppressed by nausea, and always being relieved immediately. It was an
effectual emetic.
This state of things continued for two days.
Wednesday, August 20th. We had the watch on deck from four till
eight, this morning. When we came on deck at four o'clock, we found
things much changed for the better. The sea and wind had gone down,
and the stars were out bright. I experienced a corresponding change in
my feelings, yet continued extremely weak from my sickness. I stood
in the waist on the weather side, watching the gradual breaking of the
day, and the first streaks of the early light. Much has been said of the
sunrise at sea; but it will not compare with the sunrise on shore. It lacks
the accompaniments of the songs of birds, the awakening hum of
humanity, and the glancing of the first beams upon trees, hills, spires,
and house-tops, to give it life and spirit. There is no scenery. But,
although the actual rise of the sun at sea is not so beautiful, yet nothing
will compare for melancholy and dreariness with the early breaking of
day upon ``Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste.''
There is something in the first gray streaks stretching along the eastern
horizon and throwing an indistinct light upon the face of the deep,
which combines with the boundlessness and unknown depth of the sea
around, and gives one a feeling of loneliness, of dread, and of
melancholy foreboding, which nothing else in nature can. This
gradually passes away as the light grows brighter, and when the sun
comes up, the ordinary monotonous sea day begins.
From such reflections as these, I was aroused by the order from the
officer, ``Forward there! rig the headpump!'' I found that no time was
allowed for daydreaming, but that we must ``turn to'' at the first light.
Having called up the ``idlers,'' namely, carpenter, cook, and steward,
and rigged the pump, we began washing down the decks. This
operation, which is performed every morning at sea, takes nearly two
hours; and I had hardly strength enough to get through it. After we had
finished, swabbed down decks, and coiled up the rigging, I sat on the

spars, waiting for seven bells, which was the signal for breakfast. The
officer, seeing my lazy posture, ordered me to slush the mainmast, from
the royal-mast-head down. The vessel was then rolling a little, and I
had taken no food for three days, so that I felt tempted to tell him that I
had rather wait till after breakfast; but I knew that I must ``take the bull
by the horns,'' and that if I showed any sign of want of spirit or
backwardness, I should be ruined at once. So I took my bucket of
grease and climbed up to the royal-mast-head. Here the rocking of the
vessel, which increases the higher you go from the foot of the mast,
which is the fulcrum of the lever, and the smell of the grease, which
offended my fastidious senses, upset my stomach again, and I was not a
little rejoiced when I