On Board the "Rocket"

by Robert C. Adams

"You call me a liar, do you?" said Capt. Streeter, in a furious passion. "I'll teach you to know your place. I've treated you so well, you think you can take charge of the ship; but I'll let you know I'm captain of her yet." He continued with such a string of words that there was no chance to reply, and I walked forward to set the flying-jib, leaving him to talk to the mizzen-mast, which he did for some time after, to the edification of the man at the wheel, raving and cursing about white-livered officers, religion, sailors, and ending at last with an anathema on his own eyes.

Two days after, the water changed from its deep blue to green, and the deep sea lead found bottom at eighty fathoms. The wind died away as we approached the land, and we lay becalmed for some hours; but at last the ship began to move along, though there was scarcely a breath of wind to be felt on deck. I hove the log in a little while, and reported to the captain that the ship was going seven knots. He would not believe it, and told me to try it again; but the same result was shown, and having occasion to go aloft immediately after, I found a fresh breeze blowing there. The top-gallantsails and royals were pulling hard, and the topsails "stood" most of the time, but the "courses" were hanging up and down, without taking a breath of wind.

That night found the ship again in Chesapeake Bay, with a Baltimore pilot on board, having been fifty days on the passage from Genoa, and a little over five months and a half on the voyage.

It was now the beginning of June. The weather was mild and beautifully clear, and a pleasant westerly breeze enabled the ship to lay her course up the bay.

When the pilot comes on board, he is always supposed to take sole charge of the ship; but Capt. Streeter could not bear to think of any one superseding him, and so kept about deck, frequently giving orders about the sails or yards. The pilot was somewhat surprised by this conduct, but said nothing. In the morning, while he was walking on top of the house, the captain stepped out of the cabin, and seeing that the wind was a little free, called out in a loud, pompous tone: "Mr. Morrison, set the foretopmast studding-sail;" his manner implying that he would show the pilot he didn't allow his ship to go loafing along, when it could be helped. The pilot kept on with his walk, and the sailors rove off the gear, rigged out the boom, and hoisted the sail up. The captain promenaded about with a self-satisfied air, scarcely deigning to notice the pilot. But a minute after the sheet had been trimmed down and before the ropes were coiled up, the pilot altered the ship's course a little, and sang out: "Haul down that topmast studding-sail!"

The captain disappeared into the cabin very suddenly, and let the pilot take care of the ship afterward without any interference.

A calm set in in the afternoon, and we anchored off Point Lookout, at the mouth of the Potomac; but in the early hours of the morning, a breeze enabled us to get under way again, and meeting a steam-tug, the captain struck a bargain, and the little boat took us in tow and brought us by Fort McHenry into the harbor of Baltimore, just before the sun went down. As much as twenty miles below the city we met sailor boarding-house runners, cruising in their boats, but refused to allow them on board, and the refusal in each case called forth a volley of curses and the foulest language. When near the city a perfect swarm of boats had collected about the ship, hanging on to her channels or sailing along by her; and every little while some adventurous person would climb up the side and attempt to come on board, and if refused, as they always were, would use most insulting language. One fellow, who persistently took his stand in the main channels, and refused to get into his boat, was accosted by the captain with a belaying-pin; but he coolly drew out a revolver and threatened to blow the captain's brains out if he dared to touch him. The pilot cautioned the captain not to quarrel with these men, for they belonged to an organized gang of rowdies called "blood-tubs," and his life would not be safe on shore if he took any harsh measures with them.

I thought Capt. Streeter had attained to the highest perfection possible in the use of profane language, but these men quite equalled him, using epithets and comparisons, shewing that human ingenuity had been taxed to the utmost to invent new phrases and combinations of oaths.

After a good many threats of murdering the captain and officers when they caught them ashore, they one by one pulled in to the wharves and left the ship unmolested. The next day the "Dublin" hauled in to a wharf, at Fell's Point. The sailors had formed great plans for sueing the captain and second mate, and anticipated a sweet revenge in this way; but unfortunately they had arrived in a slave state, where a black man's testimony would not be taken in court, and where also a black sailor could not be discharged from his ship, unless some white man became his bondsman that he should leave the state within twenty-four hours. So there was nothing to do but postpone their revenge to the indefinite time, when they might catch them in New York or Boston.

A tailor, for the sake of their custom, entered into bonds for the men, and after making a pretty good bill out of each, shipped them by railroad to New York.