ON AN EMIGRANT SHIP.
It was a foggy morning. I could see the boat and I learned that we were in the River Mersey. How different it looked from the River Clyde! I was on the poop and a man was standing waving to a woman in the boat, who was also waving a handkerchief. He was a tall, strong-looking man, with such a tanned face. I looked up at him and saw the tears standing on his brown cheeks. That was our captain. When we got fairly out to sea a great many felt ill. Strange to say, I did not, and was able to be helpful and to go here and there and assist the others. Some were never on the deck for weeks, but rough or fine I never missed being in the open air for one day during the voyage. I loved to watch the wheel that controlled the helm and guided that great ship in a direct course to Adelaide. A few verses, written by one of the married men, will give some idea of the high opinion we all had of the captain. They are still in a legible state, although written so long ago. I will add them here. The author of them is dead, but in his lifetime in South Australia his name was popular and high in public favor. Here are the lines:—
ON THE MORNING STAR.
Come, let us be cheerful, at last we are afloat
Alone on the ocean, where battles were fought
By England's true sons, to memory so dear,
Whose cannons were never yet seen in the rear.
Brave Captain Mathews, he is truly a hero,
His barque is his pride on the wide, rolling sea.
His voice through the tempest sounds strong and clear,