As she would not be ready for sea for about three weeks after I had joined her, I had plenty of leisure time to look around me. The principal objects in my eyes were, of course, the wharves and shipping; and, indeed, the scene there presented was one of interest to any observer; bustle and activity was everywhere apparent; ships loading, discharging, repairing, &c., in every direction. Here one might be seen hove on her beam-ends, receiving a new copper jacket; another totally dismantled, preparatory to receiving new spars; on another the riggers were aloft at work, with their merry song; below, still another might be seen weather-beaten and shabby, her copper covered with moss and barnacles, she having returned but a few hours before from a long voyage, and the casks being hoisted from her hold contain part of her cargo of oil, gleaned, during her four years of cruising, from the monsters of the Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, Arctic, and Antarctic Oceans. Alongside this weatherworn ship, and in strong contrast with her whole appearance, lies a smart, trim-looking vessel, such a one as makes Jack Tar’s heart bound to look at; her hull is perfect in model, her spars all rake jauntily aft, her yards are squared by the lifts and braces, whilst the fresh appearance of her paint gives her a coquettish look and bespeaks her ready for sea. They are now putting aboard of her the remnant of her provisions not yet stowed; and as we pass up the gangway we come in contact with a sailor’s chest being conveyed aboard under the Argus eyes of its hardy owner, who forms one of her crew.
On the wharves hundreds of coopers are employed coopering oil casks. Their continual strokes of hammer upon driver, united with the heavy rolling of the oil trucks, creating a Babel-like confusion from which a stranger is glad to escape.
Whichever way we cast an eye we see oil casks or whalebone, harpoons or lances, or some one or other of the various et ceteras belonging to the whaleman’s pursuit; in fact, the yield of the whale supports New Bedford, and is the nucleus around which clusters all the manufactures of the city; and its vitality as a community must ever depend upon the number of vessels it sends out in pursuit of the whale. After gazing again and again at these objects, to me so interesting, I diverted myself by walking through the town, with no other object but to kill time—hours seeming days, and days months, that intervened between this time and the day fixed for our departure; in fact, I had become so infatuated with the idea of going to sea, that I viewed everything through a glass whose tint was blue—blue water always dancing and rippling before my mind’s eye. In my perambulations through this city of whalemen I found that it was laid out with something like care—the streets, like those of Philadelphia, at right angles; many of the houses neat and well built, and, with the exception of a part of one street near the river, wear a quiet and respectable aspect. One street is an exception to the rule, it being occupied by houses of ill-fame, where many a dollar, earned by exposure to the storm on a long voyage, has been filched from the hardy mariner by the harpies who occupy its tenements; and after what I had always read and heard of the puritanical exactness of our New England brethren, I confess that I was astonished that such a sink was permitted by the citizens of the Bay State to remain in existence for the unsophisticated seaman to be entrapped by. A liquor law had been passed by the legislature of the State of Massachusetts, and whilst I was in New Bedford was professedly in operation—but only professedly, as numbers of houses existed wherein liquor was sold, which, from their public location, must have been known to the authorities.
At my boarding-house, arrivals were continually occurring of young men, from various parts of the Union, to embark on board whale-ships. I viewed with regret the extreme youth of many of them. There is a systematized mode of procedure carried on in our larger Atlantic and Lake cities, for the purpose of recruiting this service. Shipping agents engage young men, taking advantage of their inexperience or necessities, paint whaling and its appurtenances in vivid colors, induce them to sign their names, and then convey them to New Bedford; and when they come to review their outfit bills, they will find a charge of from ten to fourteen dollars for the agent’s services. Among the arrivals at our house was one from Western Pennsylvania, who talked sailor, walked sailor, and dressed sailor, rolling when he walked so as almost to take in a pocketful of sand on each side, and wore an immense kedge anchor on his neckerchief; he was looked at by the inexperienced as a prodigy, but by old sailors with a contemptuous expression, always accompanied by the remark, “Too much salt water there.” This individual was afterward the most miserable poltroon in our ship, and despite his vauntings of personal qualifications as a seaman, lashed himself with a yard arm gasket to the main topgallant rigging whilst engaged in furling the main topgallant sail. Such is generally the case—men who talk loudly of their ability ashore are apt to be inefficient at sea.
And now, after remaining until wearied out, our ship is ready to sail to-morrow. As is customary on the day before sailing, each man proceeds to his outfitter and procures his clothing; the owners usually allow to the foremast hands an advance of seventy-five dollars, for which the foremast hand gives the outfitter an order, and receives his clothing. The Shark, or outfitter, charges double the price of good, for worthless articles, which must be taken at his prices, as there is no redress. By the time the foremast hands’ board-bill and pocket-money are deducted from his advance, the wardrobe he is able to procure is slender and insufficient, so that in the course of a few months he will be compelled to resort to the slop-chest, where, if the ship has been successful, he will be eagerly welcomed—the more so, as the Captain is often interested in the profits of the slop-chest; if unsuccessful, and he has a liberal Captain, his necessities will be supplied; if, on the other hand, he should be parsimonious, scowling looks will be all the relief he gets, and he will be forced to beg from his shipmates, who will not allow him to suffer, although the prudent are cautious, as in a three years’ voyage every man must be careful of his effects, as they constitute his capital.
Having procured our outfits about three o’clock in the afternoon of Monday, July 23d, we went aboard, desiring to pass one night on the vessel before she sailed. Soon after we hauled out into the stream, and were towed by a steamboat down to Clarke’s Point, where we let go our larboard anchor. During the afternoon others of the crew arrived, amongst them a fine-looking old tar who knew the ropes, and had a three gallon jug of New England rum stowed away in his chest, which, as soon as carried into the forecastle, he produced and passed around time after time, until all those who would imbibe were more than half seas over, making night hideous with their discordant clang. At noon the next day the Captain and others came aboard in the pilot boat. The sails were loosed, windlass manned, anchor hove up to the inspiriting chant. We are bound to the Western Ocean, and soon the old Pacific was aweigh and off to sea again, leaving the land of her flag far in the distance.
All was bustle and confusion aboard the ship, we having no less than fourteen green hands, and the few foremast hands who had before followed the sea were so overcome by the ardent that they were useless; so that the officers were obliged in almost every case to execute their own orders. We were blessed with a head wind, and were obliged to beat out of the bay, and, with the consequent hurry and excitement attendant on tacking ship, little leisure was left to us for reflection; but as the sun sank low in the horizon, and the blue hills of the land of my birth, and love, and veneration—the home of me and mine—were gradually becoming more and more indistinct—as I looked around me on the expanse of water, extending on every side, I felt alone; and then, and not till then, did I feel the momentous character of what I had undertaken; then I bethought me of the thousand little comforts of home, the many kindnesses I had received from relatives and friends, and I leaned my head on the bulwarks, and felt as if I knew what desolation and heart-sickness were for the first time. This state of affairs could not last long, so I rallied and attempted to look brave and careless; but the effort was vain, for if any person had taken the trouble to look at my lugubrious countenance, they could have seen, that under an attempted careless exterior I carried an aching breast; but all hands were too fully occupied by their personal feelings to notice me, and so it passed unremarked.
Towards evening, that most annoying and distressing of all petty maladies—viz., sea-sickness, made its appearance amongst our green hands; having experienced it before, I escaped with but little annoyance; not so with some other poor fellows, and amongst those I noticed the person I mentioned before, who claimed so intimate an acquaintance with the sea, utterly prostrated; a few hours previous he was the blithest of the party, and was singing with great zest—
“A life on the ocean wave,
And a home on the rolling deep.”
but now, alas! he was tuneless, and almost breathless; but I imagined that had he been able to sing, the burden of his lay would have been—