"Mr. Bowen," said I, "that man has got the yellow fever, and it is a severe case. It will probably go hard with him."
"Do you think so, Hawser?" Said Mr. Bowen, slowly drawling out his words; "well, I don't know but you are more than half right. There have been some deaths from yellow fever in Savannah already this season, and who knows but" and turning to the captain, who at this moment came on deck, carelessly handling his toothpick, he exclaimed, "Captain Allen, Mr. Conners has got the yellow fever!"
The captain started back, aghast, at this terrible announcement. His face was as white as a sheet. "The yellow fever, Mr. Bowen! God forbid! What makes you think so?"
"Why," replied the mate, "the symptoms are precisely those of yellow fever; and you know there were some fatal cases among the shipping before we left Savannah."
"That's true, Mr. Bowen true as a book. Perhaps it IS the yellow fever. O Lord! The yellow fever on board the Joseph! What SHALL we do, Mr. Bowen? Had we not better put back? Who knows whose turn it may be next? The yellow fever! Why, this is dreadful!"
And the yellow fever it proved to be. The unfortunate man was seized with delirium in less than twelve hours after he was attacked, and died on the following day. The captain was terribly frightened, and was half disposed to make for the nearest port and resign command of the brig. But Mr. Bowen succeeded in calming his fears, and convince him, that by sprinkling the cabin and forecastle freely with vinegar, and burning brimstone, tobacco-leaves, and tar several hours in a day for several successive days, the infected atmosphere would be rendered pure and innoxious. The experiment was tried; and for more than a week the captain, to the great annoyance of the sailors, was every day busy in devising means of salutary fumigation, and carrying them into effect, or, in other words, trying to drive out one poison by introducing another a hundred times more offensive to our olfactories, and attended, if possible, with more unpleasant associations.
We pursued our course towards Gottenburg; steering nearly in the direction of the Gulf Stream, passing to the southward of the Bank of Newfoundland, and then standing away to the northward and eastward, with a view to pass north of Scotland and enter the Skager-rack through the broad passage which separates the Orkneys from the Shetland Islands. On the passage we fell in with the little islet, or huge rock, known as Rockal, which lies almost in mid-ocean, being about two hundred miles west of the coast of Scotland. This rock is only a few hundred feet in length, and rises abruptly to a height eighty or a hundred feet. It is craggy and precipitous, and is the resort of seals, and myriads of birds, as osprays, gulls, and gannets, which abound in that part of the ocean, and there, undisturbed by the presence of man, lay their eggs and rear their young. Rockal has the appearance, when first seen, of a large ship under sail, and is of a dark gray color, being covered in some parts, probably to the depth of many feet, with birdlime, or guano, the accumulation of ages. But as this rock is exposed to the peltings of the pitiless storms, which are frequent in this part of the world, and is subject to the extremes of heat and cold, it is possible that the rich beds of guano with which it is covered are not of the best quality; besides, as it can boast of no bay or nook in which a vessel, or even a boat, can ride in safety, but is exposed on every side to the constant succession of waves rolling onward eternally across the ocean, but not always in the same direction, forbidding the landing of any human being on its craggy sides, its treasures, however valuable, will probably remain undisturbed forever.
This restlessness of the ocean, creating an undulating surface, even during long-continued calms, excites the wonder of all who, never having been abroad upon the waters, imagine its surface is always smooth and unruffled unless disturbed by a gale of wind. This "tramp of the ocean waves" is beautifully described by Charles H. Brown, one of the "Bowdoin Poets":
"Roll on, old Ocean, dark and deep!
For thee there is no rest.
Those giant waves shall never sleep,
That o'er thy billowy breast
Tramp like the march of conquerors,
Nor cease their choral hymn
Till earth with fervent heat shall melt,
And lamps of heaven grow dim."
The next land we fell in with was Fair Isle, which lies about half way between the Shetland and the Orkney Islands, being about twenty-five miles south of Sumburgh Head, the southern extremity of the principal of the Shetland Islands. Fair Isle, as is indeed the case with all these islands which are susceptible of cultivation, is inhabited by a rude and hardy race of beings; the men being engaged a large portion of the time in the ling and cod fishery, which is extensively carried on in this part of the world. Taking advantage of their locality in mid-channel, the boatmen from Fair Isle also board vessels which pass to an fro, going "north about," and exchange fish and a slender variety of vegetables for tobacco and rum; those articles, so unnecessary to happiness or comfort, being greedily coveted by the rude and semi-barbarous inhabitants of those regions, who also, be it said to their credit, will not object to receive a dozen of biscuit, a piece of beef or pork, or a goodly portion of any other palatable article of food.