Before many hours had passed, however, the doubters understood that the marine had told no more than the truth.
We were off the harbor of St. Catherine when Captain Porter decided to take chances which would have deterred many another, and next morning, that is to say, on the 26th day of January, 1813, the Essex was headed down the coast for Cape Horn.
It seemed strange to me at the time, and even at this late day I am moved to wonderment that such should have been the case—it seemed strange, I say, that almost without exception the members of our crew hailed with delight the captain's determination to push forward rather than turn back. Surely it was a hazardous venture to leave friendly ports behind, and sail away toward that portion of the world where the power of the British was exceeding strong.
Those among the crew who argued in favor of thus trying our fortunes in the Pacific Ocean were forced to admit that we would be treated with but scant courtesy by the small nations, who dared not brave the anger of the English by showing friendship for us. Ours was but a single vessel of thirty-two guns, and should we come upon two or three whalers at the same time, it was reasonable to believe that we might find ourselves opposed by a weight of metal exceeding our own.
We could not depend upon the government of the United States for so much as a spare belaying-pin, and all we might get, whether in the way of stores or ammunition, must come from the enemy. I do not believe any vessel of war was ever sent into such danger of every form, and it is hardly to be wondered at that Phil Robbins and I were filled with apprehension as to the result of the cruise, more particularly since we heard the evils described in most glowing colors during nearly every hour of the day, even by those who were in favor of the enterprise.
"We didn't ship with the agreement that we'd do our best to run into every possible danger when it might be better to shape a course for home," Phil said, in what was very like a mutinous tone. "When it comes to fighting Britishers, then we're bound to risk our lives in the hope of killing them; but sailing around the world with fair chance of starving to death before we can run across a craft of any kind, is a good bit outside of duty."
Phil was not the only member of the crew who spoke in much the same tone, and yet I defy any person to say with truth that we were in the slightest degree mutinous as we faced such a venture as was never known before.
Master Hackett seemed well content on the day when the bow of the Essex was turned toward the south pole, and I was resolved he should have no opportunity of believing that Phil and I were afraid of what might lie in our path.
As a matter of course, we two lads discussed the weighty affair in all its aspects, enabled to do so with some degree of fairness because of the opinions which we heard on every side; but we took good care to do so where no one might overhear us.