“Nobody cares for me!” one will hear from at least one-half the inmates of every forecastle, and in the greater proportion of such cases it is really too true. If the seaman has no immediate relatives, he finds those whom he meets ashore solicitous to make his acquaintance only for the sake of their own profit. To be sure, Seamen’s Homes, Bethels, and Aid Societies, have done much, very much. God forbid! that I should say a word that could be construed into a disparagement of the efforts of these noble and benevolent institutions. But there is something more than these needed to reclaim the outcast seaman for society, and teach him truly that he has a character to maintain, as well as an abiding interest in the commonwealth. In fact, to effect a permanent amelioration of his condition, he must in his youth be educated and disciplined with a view to his profession, become accustomed to revere the ties and restraints of home and society, and be fully imbued with the principles of national citizenship.

In this humane work, the influence of the gentler sex is vitally essential. The time has long gone by when the seaman (the American seaman in particular) was a rude, uncouth being—half fish, half man: apparelled in a blue jacket and tarpaulin hat; his cheek pouched out with a great chew of tobacco; his walk a swagger, and his language redolent of oaths and tar. Such is a picture of Jack that has been drawn (from time immemorial) by too many authors, whose very particularizing, however, discloses to the initiated their ignorance of the subject. Your true sailor, from the general stigma that attaches to his class ashore, rather inclines to conceal, than make an unnecessary display of his calling. I have now been afloat almost four years; in one place or another, met with at least ten thousand seamen, principally belonging to our mercantile and whaling marine; and, although closely observing their habits, manners, and peculiarities, I never saw the original of the false picture above presented—a familiar one, it is true, to the readers of the yellow-covered nautical romances of the day. So, ladies, you need not fear, that, in urging you to extend a cordial greeting to Jack, I desire to favor the introduction of a boorish clown into your refined circles. But I will leave that to your own fair judgments. Compare him with the landsman: ten to one, you will place them on an equality; and, if you have a sparkling of romance in your character, you will give the Tar the preference.

To your parents, dear ladies, I would particularly address myself, and say to them: it is your duty (I speak plainly) to hasten this important matter, by which a noble class of your fellow-men may be so greatly benefitted, both here and hereafter. Do not fear, that by the introduction of the sailor into your families, you would nurse an adder, who would take advantage of your courtesy, and either corrupt your daughters, or entice your sons from home into his own perilous pursuit. His high appreciation and admiration of virtue will secure for the female portion of your family a degree of respect and attention from him, that would be looked upon by the young bucks of the present day with wonder and contempt; whilst his plain matter-of-fact and common-sense descriptions of the sea and its perils, hardships and pleasures, would divest the subject of the glowing imagery with which it is clothed by the fertile fancy of your youthful son, and thus enable him to see it in its true light. If the latter should then, however, still be anxious to barter the comforts and luxuries of home for the discomforts and privations of the sea, let him go! He was cut out for a sailor, and will sooner or later arrive at eminence in the profession of his well-advised choice.

But how, (methinks I hear you ask,) and by what means, is this good work to be accomplished? It is quite easy, says another I imagine, to see and describe the need of such a proceeding; but how is it to be done? My answer is: I have accomplished what I originally intended, namely, to indicate the great good to be done by such a movement. It would be presumption, on the part of so young a man as myself, to point out the means by which it may be effected. Older and wiser heads are now engaged in this good work: men of much experience and pure, active Christianity. But, if these should fail, or wish my views, I will not hesitate to furnish my opinions and plans at some future day, and with great pleasure respectfully submit them to their consideration.

CHAPTER XV.

But I have digressed long enough. I now return to the old Pacific and her inmates, as she was when we crossed the line, or a few degrees to the southward of it; at which time we lost sight of the Magellan clouds. Shortly after this the glorious Southern Cross disappeared from our view. These two constellations had been for years our landmarks in the heavens, (pardon the incompatibility of the expression,) and had become so familiar that at night the horizon seemed to us incomplete without them; but still we hailed their retirement from our view with delight, for it was an earnest of home. For several nights afterward we strained our eyes and patience in unavailing search for the North Star. At last it was sighted by a close observer. It was hailed by a general shout, that made the welkin ring; and hearts warmed as day after day in our passage north we opened still farther the glories of the northern sky; our own, with its fleecy scud and resplendent tints, shedding refulgence on our free and happy land.

And now, as we progressed day by day, it may be wondered, what were the plans of our crew for the future: all having gained little else than experience, and that not being a disposable commodity at our place of destination. But, kind people! do not think that any one of us felt poverty-stricken, or dependent on other than his own exertions for support. A more self-reliable set of men never drew breath than those who were now around me. One and all felt perfectly able to maintain themselves respectably, if health were vouchsafed to them by the Creator; and all had their plans. The first we will consider is that of the Massachusetts men—they forming by far the largest class. Although they mooted a hundred different channels in which they would direct their energies, there was a strong under-current pervading the whole, which bespoke whaling as their chief point, though many declared this their dernier resort, only to be engaged in by them from extreme necessity. Some of them thought that the whaling business was becoming too poor to follow, and declared their intention of emigrating to Oregon or Kansas, in quest of gold, should the accounts from those regions continue to hold out the same favorable inducements they had already done.

The second class whom we shall consider is, that formed of prodigal sons—a proportionably numerous one. Most of this class had left home with a desire to see the world, and a hope of returning with both pockets full of money, to astonish the “old folks at home,” and, if necessary, to be expended for their comfort. Their bright anticipations not having been fulfilled, they were ashamed to go home; and, although we may doubt the wisdom of such a course, there is an honorable pride attaching to it, that cannot fail to command respect. Most of them had companions to whom they were attached during the voyage, and they determined that they would embark together to some foreign port or other (those of the Mediterranean were the most popular) for four or six months, when they would be sure of their monthly wages; and should they carry out their resolves, they might then return to their homes. This plan sounds foolish, and was foolish. No doubt they would be welcome to their relatives, with or without money; but I must confess that in the face of the warmest letters, and in the full assurance and conviction of the heartiest welcome, I myself felt a reluctance in returning, without something of moment to show, as a remuneration for almost four years of exile.

The last class (very few in number) is, those who had no homes—children of the sea. These did not take the same warm interest in a return to the States as we did; or, rather, it is a different interest—a mere sensual feeling: a desire to have a good spree, and be off again. They had no settled plan, but were ready, as soon as their money or credit became exhausted, to go here or there, as the caprice of the moment or the prospect of gain might lead them. Poor fellows! theirs was a hard prospective, and they felt it; for, when those, who were so blessed, gathered around each other, and talked of a reunion with parents, brothers, and sisters, they would walk moodily and alone, or strive by a reckless air to show their contempt for the comforts of home—but it was in vain. These now expected to follow the sea for their bread, just as the farmer does his plough. In the absence of good examples ashore, they had nothing to give them a strong bias to remain there; they considered the ocean as the granary from which their daily provision must be procured. God direct them wherever they may go, and in whatever they may do!—that they may avoid the snares spread for them by the designing at every step of the paths they must follow.

On the evening of March 17th we entered and crossed the Gulf Stream. Our near approach to it had been indicated days before by the appearance of the Gulf weed. This weed is inhabited by multifarious marine animals. On being scooped up and placed in a bucket of water, its tiny residents were to be seen swimming and plying about with the intensest activity: crabs, lobsters, various kinds of fish, and the meduca, together with many others that are nondescripts.