When the schooner was loaded, we sailed for Havana. On our arrival in that port, the lumber was discharged. The captain, as a speculation, bought a car of oranges and bananas. The fruit was perfectly green when brought on board. We immediately set sail for Mobile. Much to the captain's disgust, the trip was a long one of calms and head winds and great trouble. The weather was intensely warm. The oranges ripened very quickly and then rapidly decayed. The fruit venture proved very unprofitable. On our arrival in Mobile, only the bananas were fit for sale. We had a nice job to clean the rotten oranges from the hold. I never see a mouldy orange but that my memory goes back to that remarkable trip.

We were towed up to the sawmill for another load of lumber. 'Possum-hunting occurred at nights as before. One of the sailors and myself wanted a pet to take to sea with us. So we went on shore on an expedition by ourselves. We at last found a big "razor-back" sow with a litter of pigs. Each of us decided that two little pigs were just the thing needed on the schooner. Then the fun commenced. "Scotty" and myself learned the fact that the pigs could do some good sprinting when there was occasion for it, and just then was one of the occasions. For a half hour we tried all sorts of tactics. It was of no use. What the little pigs didn't know the old sow did. At last we came to a big saw-log close to a fence. I was to stand at the end of the log while "Scotty" was to drive the pig family between. Everything worked nicely. I did not interfere with the sow. Making a grab, I got one pig and was laying for another. Just then there was a sudden change in the program. The old sow was doing the chasing act. "Scotty" and I did not want any more pigs! One was enough. It was "nip and tuck" as to who would win. Scotty got a stick and was pounding the sow as a diversion. I made tracks for the schooner. When I got on board I was nearly played out. The captain took a look at the pig and myself. Then he wanted to know why I didn't get a larger one while I was about it. When loaded, we sailed again for Havana. We had a pleasant trip. The schooner was small and very easy to handle. Captain Turner was a stout and short middle-aged man, very good-natured, and inclined to be tricky in regard to making money. We could draw our wages at any time we wished to do so. We arrived in Havana in the month of June. The weather was very hot. Every day at two o'clock we stopped discharging lumber, as the custom-house officers would then go home. Every board and stick of timber had to be measured on the dock. The crew would go ashore and visit the different places in the city. We all invested money in the Royal Lottery, but drew no prizes. The tickets were sold on the streets by venders, who received a commission on their sales. A person who could not understand Spanish would suppose that they were selling newspapers. The tickets were in large sheets, sixteen dollars for a whole and proportionately, down to a sixteenth.

A large American ship arrived in harbour from China with a load of coolies for the Cuban plantations. The captain was sick, so he made arrangements with Captain Turner to take his vessel, the Messenger, to New York. Our mate was to take the schooner to Boston, with a cargo of sugar and molasses. We took our cargo on board, boxes of sugar in the hold and hogsheads of molasses for a deck load. I was now going home in earnest. I purchased a lot of guava jelly and tropical preserves, besides a number of presents for my relatives. I wrote to my mother, in New York, telling her of my intentions, giving her the name of the schooner and its port of destination. The fourth day of July, 1860, early in the morning, we sailed out past Morro Castle. Our voyage to Boston had begun. I felt happy with the prospect of soon being back home. We had a very easy time on the schooner, there being nothing to do except to take our turns at steering. On a full-rigged ship it would have been different, as it is invariably the practice to keep the crew continually at work most of the time, most usually aloft, repairing the rigging. We had passed the most dangerous part of our trip, through the Florida Keys; the wind was "wing and wing"—that is, the foresail was out on one side and the main-sail on the other. A good strong breeze was driving us north at a rapid rate. That night it was my turn at the wheel from ten to twelve o'clock. It being cloudy, no stars were visible. For that reason it was more difficult to steer straight. By selecting a bright star ahead when the vessel is on the right course, it is easier to see which way the wheel is to be turned. Steering by compass alone, the vessel either "goes off" or "comes up" considerably before the compass shows it. The main boom was out to starboard the full length of the sheet. A pennant—heavy rope—from the end of the boom was hooked to a tackle and fastened forward in order to prevent the boom from swinging back. I had been at the wheel about an hour, and was watching the compass carefully. Suddenly the light in the binnacle went out. Then I had neither stars nor compass to steer by. As we were going dead before the wind, I tried to keep the old schooner straight, but it was useless. In a few minutes she yawed to starboard, and the main-sail was taken aback. All the strain of that big sail was then on the boom pennant and tackle leading forward. Before anything could be done to relieve us from our dilemma there was a sharp snap forward. The belaying-pin which held the tackle had broken, the boom flew over to the other side, and the sheet tautened out like a bow-string. It took hardly a second for the sail to jibe over.

I was lying on deck badly stunned, the wheel-post broken short off, and the wheel broken into small pieces. The old Pennsylvania was sailing in all directions. The "sheet" may be better understood by calling it a large double tackle. As the boom swung in, the sheet, of course, slackened up, and the bights, going over the quarter-deck, had caught everything in the way. If I had been caught under the arm or chin I should have been hurled quite a distance from the schooner without any possible chance of being rescued. Small tackles were fastened to the tiller, and the schooner brought head to wind. The main-sail was then lowered and furled. With only the forward sails set and all hands at the tiller tackles, we managed to run before the wind on our right course until daylight. The fragments of the wheel were picked up and, by using a stout barrel-head as a foundation, it was reconstructed. While not being a first-class affair, it answered all purposes. On the right side of my body, from ankle to top of my head, I was sore for several days. That was my second accident with main-booms, and both were narrow escapes.

Within a short distance of Boston, our stock of provisions ran short, so we had to kill our pet pig. He had grown to quite a respectable size. It was much to our regret to slaughter our companion, but it had to be done. As it was, we had nothing left to eat on our arrival in Boston. The first thing after the anchor dropped was to row the cook ashore and get some grub for supper. Captain Turner was on hand to meet us, having arrived several days previously. His first inquiries were about the pig. He intended to take it to his home. His wife had made a nice place for it in the back yard as a domicile. We went to a dock the next day for unloading cargo. A custom-house officer came on board to see that everything was according to the manifest. He was very sociable to all hands. About dinner-time he called me to one side, quietly informing me that he was going to dinner and would not return for an hour or so, and that, if the boys had anything to take ashore, they had better do it while he was absent. I told the crew what he had said. As we all had a quantity of cigars, we each chipped in a handful as a present. The balance and my supply of guava jelly was taken to a boarding-house. When the officer returned from his dinner, I told him to look on my bed. He took the hint—and the cigars too. I had to wait some time in Boston before I could get my pay which was due me, and I had not written home about my arrival, not knowing how soon I might start for New York. About the third day, while standing on the schooner deck, I noticed a neatly dressed lady coming down the dock. As it was an unusual place for a woman, my curiosity was aroused. She seemed to be looking for some vessel, so I stepped ashore and walked towards her, thinking I might be of some service to her. She was looking for her son. I was the son. It was a great surprise to me to see my mother so unexpectedly.

"Now, George, you won't get away this time; you are going straight home with me!" I was greeted.

The way she knew the Pennsylvania had arrived was by reading the New York Herald. That paper gave the daily arrival of ships in all the large ports of the United States. I told her my reasons for not writing and why I was detained in Boston; then she was satisfied. I inquired about my relations at home. They were all well and very anxious to see me. I then asked about my father in San Francisco. She at once began to cry. Then, for the first time, I noticed that she was dressed in mourning. Father had been dead just three months. I went to a hotel with mother and remained with her until evening; then she returned to New York. In a short time I received my money. The next train was taking me to New York and back to my friends from whom I had been separated for such a long time. How glad they were to see me, and what a happy time we all had! They never got tired of listening to the stories of my sailor life. I remained at home for about six weeks. As I did not wish to remain idle any longer, I concluded to return to Mobile, where I was well acquainted, and there work at discharging cargoes from vessels. I was satisfied that I could easily earn from two dollars and a half to three dollars a day at that work during the winter.

CHAPTER XIII
MY THIRD VOYAGE

About October 1, 1860, I intended to take passage on the ship Robert Ely, for Mobile, but changed my mind, for the reason that the ship had a crew of negroes instead of white men. The P. T. Bartram was almost ready to sail; the crew were all shipped, so I paid ten dollars for steerage passage, and was to furnish my own food. So many sailors wanted to go South that it was difficult for me to ship as a sailor, the boarding-house keepers having the preference with the shipping offices for their boarders. The P. T. Bartram was a bark of about six hundred tons burthen. The cargo was general merchandise—a little of everything. The North at that time furnished the Southern States with everything excepting raw cotton.