Yours, ever sincerely,
George Mortimer.
Mr. Mortimer and his three sons set sail on the 11th of June, 1832. He gave an account of his passage to America, of his reception in Canada, and of his first impressions and expectations there, in the following letters to Mrs. Mortimer.
TO MRS. MORTIMER.
Aug. 6, 200 miles from a Port.
June 12th, Tuesday, 9 o’clock. Driven from the cabin by disposition to sickness, I write on deck on one of the hen coops. Last night all of us fell giddy and beginning to be squeamish—took the brandy in sips and all were immediately relieved.—Herbert also lost his head-ach. Our nightly abode was, I confess, an uninviting concern. When I lay down I seemed as though I should be suffocated and was obliged to rise up in haste, but soon got reconciled, and managed, at last, to get off and slept pretty well till five. The wind has been favourable ever since we sailed, the captain in good spirits, nothing could be better. At nine, yesterday evening, we cast anchor; the captain, in consequence of the haziness of the weather, being afraid of proceeding, lest, not being in open sea, he should run foul of land; we resumed operations, however, between two and three. The ship remaining stationary was the cause of the close and confined sensations which we had on getting into our berths at night; for when the vessel is in motion there is no want of fresh air and no feeling of oppression. I am again, my dearest Mary, on deck. I have just been humming over three or four times my favourite verse,
“O may I ne’er forget,
The goodness of the Lord;
Nor ever want a tongue to spread,
His loudest praise abroad.”
Ah! we called upon him in our trouble, and he hath delivered us out of our distress: we could, therefore, “praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works which he showeth to the children of men.” I had scarcely finished writing the contents of the first side of my sheet, when the wind began to veer round, and blowing from the west with great violence, the ship heaved and rolled to such a degree, that the whole of the passengers, without exception, were taken so suddenly and so distressingly ill, that they were obliged to dash, as quickly as possible, to their beds—no time for undressing, and none, of course, for arranging our little alleviations and preventives against sickness. Our party were all differently affected, but all suffered much for about twelve hours. Arthur was quite unconscious of what he did—Cecil occasionally incoherent—Herbert very quiet, but at times greatly suffering. Indeed, I had serious thoughts, whether we should ever recover; but I lay musing, and praying, and casting the weight of my oppressed spirits on my covenant God in Christ Jesus, and soon had a most blessed state of peace.
Sunday, June 17, 12 noon. We have just had service on deck—an interesting scene, and seemingly not unacceptable to the auditors, who, in pleasing and attentive groups, were lying, or rather sitting, round me. We had three or four good singers. Hymn,
“God moves in a mysterious way.”
Text, Gen. xii. 1. The deck presents quite a Sabbath scene, most of the men either reading or quietly sitting. God openly honoured. Wind greatly against us, out nearly a week and only 200 or 300 miles from land; but I have no restlessness, indeed scarcely a wish; peace more than usual. On deck we fared but badly, the spray besprinkled most in their turn. One wave, more unmannerly than the rest, drenched the mate, soaked the captain, and soused myself and Cecil and Herbert. We shook ourselves as well as we could, and sat quietly till we were dry. The mate says he has been thirty-one voyages and. never knew such rough weather at this season of the year. In the evening, all was calm and we ate in quietness, and with good appetite, a meat supper, followed by biscuit and cheese, and supported by our good bottled porter.