Incidents on Land and Water of Four Years on the Pacific Coast
9781465507341
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
In the town of Kingston, in the State of Massachusetts, not many miles distant from that ancient and time-honored bay whose waters years ago kissed the prow of the “May Flower” as she approached a sterile and inhospitable shore, is situated the home of my childhood. The dear old homestead, the scene of so many fond recollections, had descended from father to son for generations. The storms of many winters had beaten upon its roof; time had left its impress without, in the shape of moss-covered shingles; but within, all was youthful joy and gladness. Not a link in that family circle had been severed. In love and affection were we nurtured. Although years have intervened since those sunny days of childhood, how often, while sojourning in distant lands, would memory recall with undimmed freshness the gladsome spring-time of youth. Happy days! too speedily do they fly, leaving, often, nought but the recollection of them to cheer us in our toilsome march. Early in life, I was united to one whose home was on the deep. Then came the sad partings from loved friends, to follow for many consecutive years the fortunes of my husband by sea and land. There were sad departures and joyful returns. 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.
