with the wreck, which was provoking, as the
wind was a-beam and so far favourable. We soon hauled the wreck on board,
however, and in the course of two or three days,
with the aid of the carpenter, the dismantled
ship was re-rigged in a very creditable
manner.

We had scarcely yet put to rights, when a
vessel made up to us bound westward like
ourselves. What a sight to the lonely wanderers
on the ocean is a ship at sea!—it seems like a
herald coming to you from the world, from
which you are seemingly cut off for ever. It is
a sight which must be seen to be appreciated.
She was labouring heavily on our lee, and
every now and then her whole keel became
visible to us. To this, one of the passengers
very innocently directed attention, much to
the horror of the second mate, who smartly
rebuked the offender; it being, he said, not
only indelicate, but perilous to own having
seen the keel of any ship under canvas. We
all, of course, admitted the reasonableness of
this caution, and strictly observed it.

The ship was no sooner repaired, than the
wind, which had abated a little, seemed to
redouble its fury. We were now in the
midst of a terrible storm, and great was the
commotion in the steerage. Some moaned
in pain—others screamed occasionally in
terror—whilst one old lady was constantly
inquiring in a most piteous voice, if there was
not one good man on board, for whose sake
the rest might be saved. On making the
inquiry of a rough, but good-natured tar, he
rebuked her scepticism, and referred her to
the minister. We had two sailors on board,
named Peter. One was an ordinary looking
mortal, from whom the other was distinguished
by the appellation of Peter the Leerer, a name
having reference to the extraordinary facial
phenomena which he exhibited. On the point
of his nose was an enormous wart, the counterpart
of which had taken possession of his
chin. He had likewise one, but of smaller
dimensions, on either cheek, only wanting one
on his forehead, to complete the diagram; a
want, which, for most of the voyage, was
providentially made up by a large pimple, which
underlay his bump of benevolence. Add to
this an enormous quantity of wiry red hair,
and a portentous squint, and you may form
some conception of the goblin in question.
He was the terror of all the children on
board, and came regularly into the steerage
in the morning, begging a "toothful" from
the passengers. We never saw his tooth,
but it must have been very large, as what
he meant by the term was a glass of raw
spirits, to the strength of which he was
stoically indifferent, so that it was above
proof. It appeared that he now thought
that the time had come for making some sort
of return for sundry gifts of this nature. He
appeared amongst us, as the storm was at its
height, and confidentially informed us that,
unless some of the "canvas" were immediately
taken down, the ship "had not another
hour's life in her." To describe the confusion
and dismay occasioned by this announcement
is impossible. Nobody questioned Peter's judgment,
who stood looking at us as if he thought
that one good turn deserved another. But
every one was too much frightened to think
of rewarding him for his kindness. Some ran
at once upon deck to take immediate advantage
of the boats—the women all screamed
together—and we had a pretty tolerable taste
of the horrors to be witnessed on the eve of
a shipwreck. The hubbub at length ended
in the appointment of a deputation to wait
upon the captain, and solicit him to shorten
sail. The deputation went upon its mission,
but soon afterwards returned from the cabin
to their constituents with the report that
they had been politely requested by the
functionary in question to mind their own
business. The storm, however, gradually
abated, and things and persons resumed their
ordinary aspect.

Great was the anxiety evinced every time
the log was thrown, to ascertain our rate of
sailing, and at noon of each day, to know our
daily run, and our precise locality on the
terraqueous globe. It is difficult for an
emigrant to reconcile himself to less than
eight or nine knots an hour. He may put up
with seven, or even six, provided the ship is
in her direct course, but he regards everything
below that as a justifiable ground of
murmuring and complaint. Sometimes it is
the ship that is wrong, and sometimes the
captain, sometimes the rigging, and at other
times, all is wrong together. But to do the
emigrant justice, if he is in the surly mood
when he is making but little progress, he
makes amends for his ill-humour when the
vessel is making a good run. We, one day,
made but about twenty miles, and I
apprehended a mutiny. On another we made two
hundred, and nothing could exceed the hilarity
and good-humour of those on board. At one
time, the Seagull was the merest tub, a
disgrace to her owners, and to the mercantile navy
of the kingdom. At another, she was one of the
best vessels afloat; the captain one of the best
sailors on the sea; and the crew the cleverest
set of fellows in the world. But all this time
it was the same ship, the same captain, and
the same crew. The diversity of opinion was
the result of extraneous circumstances which
caused us at different times to take different
points of view. If the weather was favourable,
and we made good way, the ship, captain,
and crew, got all the honour and glory; if it
was adverse and our progress was retarded,
the ship, captain, and crew, had to bear all
our sinister glances and ill humours. One
morning, after we had been about ten days
out, our minds were all made up that we
were pretty near the banks of Newfoundland,
when a fellow-passenger, evidently not very
deeply versed in human nature, had the hardihood
to inform us that he had, but the day