Chapter XXXIII. A VOYAGE TO HAVRE
The Betsey remained some weeks at the levee at New Orleans before Mr. Ware could fix upon a voyage. In the mean time Ricker remained on board as master of the brig; and for several days after our arrival in port his habits were correct and his conduct without reproach. Gradually, however, he strayed from the paths of sobriety. He was of a social turn; frank, honest cheerful, and liberal-minded. He possessed other valuable traits of character; was a good sailor and a skilful navigator, but he could not resist the fascinations of the intoxicating cup.
Intemperance disqualifies a man from employments where the exercise of cool judgment, and clear, undisturbed reasoning faculties are required; and no person addicted to habits of intemperance should be intrusted with the command of a ship, where property to a large amount and lives of incalculable value, are, as it were, given into his hands. If records of disasters could be faithfully (here the page is torn and cannot be read) and unfolded, we should have an appalling list of easy (torn page) quarrels, mutinies, and shipwrecks which have (torn page) caused by intemperance on the part of the (torn page.)
Mr. Ware, the commercial agent of Mr. Gray (torn page) the brig had seen Ricker more than once intoxicated which roused his suspicions that all was not (torn page) unlucky afternoon he found him in a helpless condition, which convinced him that Mr. Ricker, notwithstanding his excellent qualities, was not a (torn page) could be safely given the control of (torn page) the high seas.
Ricker was mortified at losing, through (torn page) the command of the brig. He (torn page) however, of harsh or unjust treatment on the part of Mr. Ware; and consented to remain as mate, promising to refrain entirely from the use of spirituous liquors. The command was given to an officer in the United States navy, Lieutenant Rapp; and in this way I was ousted from the berth which Ricker was so desirous I should fill. There was no longer a home for me in the cabin of the Betsey, and I shipped as an ordinary seaman on board the brig Casket, of New York, Captain Mott, bound on a voyage to Havre.
The Casket was a large and handsome brig, and besides the captain, mate, boatswain, and cook, carried six hands before the mast. The chief mate was a hard-looking customer, somewhat advanced in years, rough in his manners, and profane and coarse in his language. But the captain was a fine-looking man, about thirty years old, rather dignified and reserved. His appearance spoke volumes in his favor, and the crew who joined the ship in New Orleans rejoiced in this opportunity of shipping in a fine vessel, with a whole-souled captain, and bound on a European voyage!
Before we reached the Gulf of Mexico, however, the (torn page) sang a different tune. They found the mate more (torn page) unreasonable, and every way disagreeable, if (torn page) than he looked; and the captain evidently re— (torn page) sailor as a piece of machinery to be wound up (torn page) for the performance of certain duties, but (torn page) human attributes. Whether a heart beat (torn page) bosom, and his head was furnished with (torn page) Mott knew not, neither did he care. The (torn page) of any one of the crew were never (torn page) If a man was sick and incapacitated (torn page) was told, with an oath, to "bear a hand (torn page) not be skulking in the forecastle;" and (torn page) his duties, he was regaled with stern (torn page) language, and sent upon missions at times, and under circumstances, which showed that Captain Mott thought a few sailors, more or less, in the world, were of no manner of consequence.
In former days every Yankee shipmaster was not a live, wide-awake, pushing, driving, web-footed Jehu, who disregarded fogs, was reckless of collisions with ships, fishing vessels, or icebergs, and cared little whether he strained the ship and damaged cargo, provided he made a short passage, as is the case in this enlightened age when "Young America" is in the ascendant. An "old fogy" was occasionally met with, who, being well paid for his services by the month, prided himself more upon the STRENGTH of his ship's sailing than her rapidity. This appears from the following scene which once took place on board a Boston ship:
Captain Jarvis was lying in his berth, dreaming of a long passage and plenty of money at the end of it, when he was awakened by the unwonted noise of water under the counter, giving rise to the suspicion that the officer of the watch was carrying more sail than was expedient. He jumped out of his berth, rushed up the steps, popped his head out of the companion-way, and sharply exclaimed,
"Mr. Popkins, heave the log."