And for so doing,
The devil has them stewing;
And with him they may remain
Till we come this way again,
Which we think howsomdever
(As our boatswain says) will be never;
And let all the mess say Amen!
When cruising off Cape Tiburon I was sent in our cutter to board a Yankee about two leagues off and to purchase stock. Our surgeon by way of pastime took the trip with me. As the Yankee had plenty for sale, and it being a dead calm, I loaded our boat with live and dead stock until she was pretty deep in the water. On our return, the sharks began to muster and the live stock to ride rusty. The surgeon said it was a damned shame to trifle with people’s lives in that manner by overloading the boat, and cursed the hour he ever came with me; and it by no means eased his fears when one of the boat’s crew said, ‘Please, your honour, if we don’t cut the b——s’ throats’ (meaning the live stock) ‘their hoofs will be through the boat’s bottom, as they are kicking like blazes, and here’s a bloody shark close alongside us.’ However, we got safe alongside after a long tug. The surgeon with a woeful countenance told a lamentable tale, which made Captain Stephens and the rest laugh heartily. He took good care never to volunteer his services with me in a boat again. He has often put me in mind of the trip and I hope he will live long to do so.
We had a tedious passage home, and when off Bermuda it was a gale of wind and a calm alternately for three days and nights, with thunder and lightning. On one of the nights I had the middle watch and was obliged to clue down the topsails upon the cap eight or nine times, blowing a gale of wind one moment and a calm the next. The night was as dark as Erebus between the flashes, and then as light as broad day. Through one flash I saw our surgeon coming on deck rolled up in a white great coat, and I said to Captain Stephens (who was up most of the night and standing with me on the gangway):
By the pricking of my thumbs