And thou who cam'st to heaven to claim one soul, sorrow, like unto no other sorrow, and knows "Rise, spirit! all created things unmade; And of all human matter in themselves, In hell to ashes, with the dust of death. The worlds themselves are but as dreams within Of the style of "Festus" we will not trust ourselves to speak. Great thoughts look forth from every line, like calm, deep eyes. Every page is starred by them. The writer "spake inspired." A late essayist, in a feeble and diffuse paper on the subject, said one truth-"Bailey hath a demon." * He speaks like one possessed. He was only twenty-three when he published "Festus, and it will stand as a grand monument of Here let us pause. We have seen that all men are agreed as to the existence of evil, but at variance as to its nature and origin. Each personality fashions it according to its own views. But it is universal, and, in the opinion of most men, immortal. The existence of conscience implies the existence of evil, against which it battles. Furthermore, conscience is not only an inspirer of our good actions, but an historian of our crimes. In the morning, the noonday, and the night, it teaches us that evil is not only a terrible existence, but that it coëxists with us, is with Their souls who lived in them; and thou art null, us, now and for ever, in secula seculorum. And thy vocation useless, gone with them. What shall we say? Nothing. But let us think that we are the subjects of a mystery, and obey. J. B. * Gilfillan, in his Literature and Literary Men." By the way, is not the popularity of this declamatory, bombastic writer amongst us a clear proof of a highly vitiated literary taste? 525 1851. A Voice from the Sea. A VOICE FROM THE SEA. [THE rapid extension of our commercial marine; its recent peaceful and gratifying triumphs, both in steam navigation and in rapidity of sailing; the new class of clipper-ships, with their magnificent proportions and scientific construction, almost rivaling steam in their speed, have awakened public attention to this branch of our national success in no ordinary degree. But whilst having our attention directed to these brilliant external results, it is to be feared that we are overlooking other improvements more essential to our true greatness and real success. With the view of awakening the attention of the country to those moral considerations which should go hand in hand with all physical improvements, we give place to the following communication. It is, what it purports to be, from one who "knows the ropes;" and although possibly too sweeping in its condemnation of our sea-captains, there are more than enough who deserve what is said, as the following case will show some evidence of : "A case in Admiralty came off on Saturday, P. M., before B. F. Hallet, U. S. Commissioner, which, from its peculiar and astounding atrocity, ought to find a place in every largely circulated journal in the country; and the monster, guilty of the charges preferred against him, let loose, while every honest hand manned a whip to lash the petrified scoundrel sans culottes through the world! One Captain Teale, master of a vessel bound from New-Orleans to this port, 'shipped' a lad as cook, &c, in the latter city; but when some five days out, the lad grew sick, kept his bunk, was hauled out by the mate, and kicked, says the evidence, until the boots of the mate were worn through at the toes! Recuperating, next day the captain took the boy in hand, triced him up to the rigging, and gave him twentyfive lashes; threw him down into the scuppers after the operation, and washed the poor lad's wounds with brine! For the next twelve days the boy was whipped aloft and alow, finally shut up under the booby hatch on top of a load of cotton, denied light, air, and food; the result was death, the most horrible! Is this case not damnable! Yet the Commissioner allowed the atrocious monster to get off on $1,000 bail, which he will forfeit, to meet death, doubtless, at some other time, at the hands of some outraged seamen, who will be charged with mutiny, &c., and be hanged. The murdered lad's name is unknown; he shipped as Bryson, but he, it is supposed, was the son of parents in good standing, from whom he had become estranged. The mate, in evidence before the Court, said, the feller died to escape work!"-New-York Times of Nov. 1st. The practical suggestions of our friend at the conclusion of his communication are eminently worthy of serious consideration. On Shipboard, -, 1851. THE passengers of a packet-ship are usually so absorbed in their own sufferings, or in securing their share of the luxuries provided for them, that the condition of the crew entirely escapes their observation; and except as they sometimes watch them, admiring the dexterity and courage with which they move through the dizzy maze of swaying sails, and spars, and cordage aloft, with much the same sort of interest, if not with less, than that with which they regard the frolics of the porpoises and gulls, they would never see that she was not made victorious over the winds and waves by the simple magnetism of the great mind of her captain. If the habitual brutality with which, in most ships, the seamen are treated, is forced upon their notice, and they presume to audibly question the necessity of it, they will find they have deeply pricked their usually thick-skinned host and courteous commander, and will be advised, in reply, without much polite circumlocution, to mind their own business, something, perhaps, in this way: " I don't think you were cut out to command a ship, sir. Before a man can command, he must learn to obey. I came in at the hawse-holes, and worked through the forecastle myself to what I am; and I don't need men of your kidney to tell me what sailors want. If I had crawled in at the cabin windows, you might make me believe I ought to feed them up nicely, and bed them down soft, and coax and curry them as you do your horses ashore; but I didn't weather through with the rascals for nothing, sir, and I know better." Supposing friend Greenhorn is thus silenced, I would take up his cause; for though I am now "only a passenger," I also once fought for my life in the forecastle, and have been worked harder and bedded more gloomily than the horse in the coal mine, and had given me for food such matter as no decent Christian on shore would throw to a dog. Yet I disagree with the captain, and confidently assert that he is not a bit the better, but a good deal the worse fitted to command, for all that initiatory experience on which he so much prides himself. For how is it, think you, that some of these brave captains, generous, whole-hearted fellows as they commonly appear to their passengers, as they are known on shorethese gentle and attentive ladies' favorites in the cabin; these dignified, polite, and entertaining companions on the quarter-deck, who compel plate, and cards, and testimonials from every grateful and admiring company that they conduct to safety and comfort through the dangers and distresses of the sea; so kind, and brave, and generoushow is it, I ask, that some of these very men are looked upon by those in their forecastle as mean, inhuman tyrants? How is it, when at their homes on shore they are all manliness, refinement and affection; when in the cabin they can only exercise goodness, and kindness and care-how is it they can be so indifferent to the life, health, comfort and well-being of those "placed temporarily in their guardianship," only the other side of the foremast? "Ah! their goodness is all stuff," Jack would mutter; "they give it out only where it's paid for." But, friend Greeny, we should know better than that. We have seen too much of it, seen it too steadily, to believe it altogether insincere; seen it living, and carrying him nobly ahead of us, where cargoes of money, mailsful of newspaper glory, would have been worth less than a spoonful of fresh water. But what, then, can it be, so far from all true dignity, refinement and kind-hearted ness, that makes them only mean, vulgar, passionate, heartless, when they turn from one end of the ship to the other? Is it credible? Is it possible? Can it be accounted for-this Janus-faced character? It can. It is the direct, irresistible, unconquerable effect of CUSTOM, to which, in that educating forecastle, they were obliged to surrender all manly trust in the reward of honest purpose; all hopes of avoiding cruelty by simple performance of duty; all hopes of kindness, or even justice, from those having power to those who make themselves subject to it. There and then was formed that habit of mind that makes it impossible for them to expect a sailor will obey from any but a sordid or despicable motive, or that he can respond with any confidence to a kind, and just, and reasonable authority. So they were trained to believe that a sailor, for ten or fifteen dollars a month, barters all right and claim to be dealt with as a man; to consider that he rents for this pitiful pittance his body and mind as well as his labor. Thus they have been made to forget that the duties of Charity and Mercy can never be intermitted or bargained away, or the claims of brotherhood bought off. So, and only so, can it be explained, that our brave, generous, courteous, and affectionate packet captains should be indifferent, reckless savages to their crews, their comrades, their own equally true, and noble, and tender-hearted brothers of the sea; for degraded and brutal as a sailor may generally appear, ofttimes he also will show the port and carriage of a feeling, God-like man. Dan, shipmate; sainted, holy-born was the spirit that lived through all in thy rude habit. Great was the heart in the iron chest that could moisten thy cold gray eye, and soften thy horny hand, and melt thy hoarse utterance, and hush the tale of thy heavy step. Would that thy unconscious faith were but as manifest in my works as when in those days of fever's anarchy thou wouldst become sister, mother, angel to me!) (Yes, old But sailors are seldom saints, it must be confessed. Suspicious, distrustful, often dishonest and hard-hearted themselves, the captain is partly right in thinking they would not understand, could not trust, and might fail to reward a worthy, generous and manly command. Trained like brutes, they must be driven yet like brutes. The old wrong has produced the evil, and the evil excuses the present wrong; and thus here, as often elsewhere, both are perpetuated. Such are always the hardest cases for the philanthropist, where heedless, fanatical, im practicable reformers are for ever making mischief. Worse than all else is it when those professing honest intentions, perhaps even arrogating in their promises the spirit of Christ, prove unreliable, cowardly, inconsistent and contradictory, whether from weakness in the faith, want of self-control, stupidity, or knavery. None do so much to aggravate the degradation and unworthiness of the sailor as those who, instead of good fare, give him good words; who, instead of hot coffee, when he comes down half frozen from reefing the icy topsails, press him to swallow temperance tales; who invite him to prayer-meetings in their rose-wood cabins, instead of allowing him watch-and-watch, needed rest, and regular sleep, in his own dingy forecastle. I have known a man who would turn the watch below out of their bunks to attend prayers in the cabin, then be so overcome by religious emotion (or what I have little doubt he thought was such) that he could not speak for sobbing, and shortly after come on deck and kick a man for passing him on the weather side of the quarter-deck, (equivalent to the inside of the walk in olden etiquette,) at the same time calling him by an obscene and contemptuous epithet, loudly enough to be heard from stem to stern. One voyage with such a man, whether sincere or hypocritical, will do more than any thing else to confirm a sailor's contempt for or indifference to religion. I have myself experienced and seen much, and I have heard more of infamous cruelty practised on seamen. I have heard the yells, and seen the blood-marks of horrid corporeal punishment upon delicately nurtured boys. I have known old men to be knocked down like bullocks; yet, I assure you, that atrocities like these are not the worst. It is the lingering, deliberate, studiously contrived torture, inflicted in what is called working up. Often I have heard a second mate boast that he could work up a man, so he would wish he was in hell. The miserable deprivation of the cheapest necessities of life; (I have myself suffered with the scurvy, because, when victualing in tropical port, a lot of mouldy bread could be bought at less cost than a sufficient store of yams, though the latter were in great abundance;) the contemptuous disregard of the common needs of mankind, (instances of which I a know, too foul to be related ;) the mockery of a man's most sacred feelings; aggravation of the horrors of death; total neglect and repudiation of all fellow-feeling;* it is this spirit that is most ruinous to all that have to bear it. Ask any sailor, and he will tell you that he cares little for violent temper, hard swearing, and ready blows, if he can have wholesome food, just time for rest and sleep, sailors' work, and plain, straight-forward dealing. It is not less true than strange that this should be denied him by men sailing under the Christian pennant, who never express a doubt of their own consistency, and probably never have any. I am glad to believe that my experience in this respect was peculiarly unfortunate. But of the general question, if it is one. I have never found a sailor, when at sea, whose opinion of the folly, meanness, and outrageous petty tyranny of the generality of shipmasters, whether of pious or impious pretensions, was not stronger than mine; and I have seldom seen an officer who did not consider such treatment always quite excusable and often necessary towards free men of the United States at sea, as would be hardly allowed for any purpose towards the meanest and most untamable animals in a high-toned community on shore. In every crew, you will be told, there are some men of desperate character; and to retain command of a vessel, and conduct in safety the treasure with which it is laden to its destination, you must keep a tight hand on them. "Discipline and subordination are the life of a ship." True enough. But can discipline be enforced only by an irritable and violent temper? Is subordination the result only of fear? Is not a manly acknowledgment of a real "ordainment of good sense" to the * One of us, when nearly the whole crew were sick below with the jungle fever, was shrieking so heart-rendingly that I held my ears. An officer called loudly through the scuttle, "Will you stop that infernal noise?" "O God! O God!" exclaimed the sufferer. "God! God! What good is there in yelling to God? Do you think He'll help you?" "Oh, let me die, sir; let me die!" "Well, if it will stop your jaw, die, and be damned!" And this in a ship that was selected, on account of the religious character of the owners and master, to carry missionaries to the heathen. I had been assured that it would be a privilege to sail with this very officer, so highly was he esteemed for his virtues and moral character on shore. management of a ship, the best subordina-threats and entreaties, took the only remain tion? Is not a sensible respect for a judgment that always shows itself calm, sufficient and decisive, or an energy that can be patient, and an activity that can be silent and self-possessed, the best discipline? Is it not more reliable in extremity than cringing submission to the despicable power of a bullying braggart, like most of our mates, whom no man, dog, or sailor, however they may skulk out of reach, can ever see stamping, braying and kicking about decks in his lion's skin, without hearty disgust and contempt? Do our officers really doubt if freely combined action is more effective than forced labor? or that it is so only by regard to duty and by republican submission to law, as the crank of the shaft by which all associated labor must be brought to operate usefully? "Ha! ha! Mr. Spooney," our friend at the head of the cabin table would say, "you'd better not try your moral suasion ideas on a gang of old sea-dogs. Depend upon it, sir, if the lazy rascals were not afraid of being worked up for sodgering, or strung up for mutiny, you wouldn't get to Liverpool till they were tired of being at sea. They'd have 'associated action' with a vengeance-all their own way." May be so, sir, may be so; but it was not the way of fear or slavery that men have had of going down together in a foundering ship, without a whine, while the women and children are borne away in the boats. I tell you again, sir, it is the control of law voluntarily submitted to, not the habit of slavish relation to power; respect to duty, not fear of punishment, that is to be relied upon at such a time. It was none of your hazing discipline that led one of the crew of the foundered Somers, when he found that the spar to which he clung with his officer could not support them both, to ask if he had a wife, and, when he learned that he had, and children as well, to calmly let go his hold and sink. ing boat, and, rejecting the captain and mate, saved the rest of the ship's company, including the passengers. By no inducements could any of them be prevailed to stand by the ship, or, after they had left it, to assist in rescuing the officers. When she broke up, they were drowned. This account in the newspapers was followed by eulogistic remarks on the ill-fated shipmaster, and expressions of amazement and horror at the selfish and cowardly conduct of the men, so uncharacteristic of true sailors. I thought, then, I could guess an explanation of their faithlessness. Now, in this voyage to Liverpool, I find among the crew a man who was saved from this wreck, and from him I learn that her captain was, as I supposed, notoriously cruel, reckless, and inhumane to his hands. Many a sailor, he tells me, has he knocked down with a handspike, and many a poor fellow, maimed, frost-bitten or fevered, through his heedlessness, has been sent to die in the hospital. But you will ask if civil government is of no advantage to the sailor; if the law offers him no protection against ill treatment. Yes; forgotten, neglected, and derided, as it often is, on blue water, the law is invaluable to the sailor. He himself generally reverences the law, and is grateful to it; and you would be surprised to know how well its provisions, in his regard, are generally understood in the forecastle. A trust in the law of the land has restrained many a ship's company from mutiny at sea. I was once with a crew, watching, from our forecastle-deck, the captain holding and kicking a boy, while the mate, with all his strength, was flogging him, on a suspicion of a trifling misdemeanor, of which he bravely and truly, as we knew, refused to acknowledge himself guilty. "How long are we to let that go on!" asked one, while another counted aloud the I can tell another sort of story too, that lashes-"Twenty-three, twenty-four"-"We perhaps will not be new to the captain, but will help patient friend Greeny and my kind readers to keep their trust in justice and humanity, even with common sailors and on salt water. Some years ago, I read an account of a remarkable shipwreck. As soon as the vessel struck, it was said, the officers lost all control of the seamen, who, disregarding are no men if we stand it longer." With this, he sprang forward, and nearly every man snatched a handspike or drew his sheath-knife. I fully expected to see the officers thrown overboard, when in a moment, almost before a step was made, our oldest and best man exclaimed, "Avast! avast! Come back, you fool; put down your knife; what do you want to run your |