Ship Julia G. Tyler
Monday Sept. 16th, 1861
We have been at sea one week today, and until this morning I have
not been able to raise spunk enough to commence my journal, but
I guess I'll soon be able to say, "Richard's himself again,"
although I have not quite come to that pitch of felicity yet.
The first two days and nights we were out a heavy storm raged;
and all, with three exceptions, were seasick; and in that one
little sentence, "All were seasick," an unexperienced
person little dreams of how much misery is contained. It seems
to me that if all the misery and wretchedness, pains and aches,
colics and cramps, in short, all the ills that flesh is heir to "were
gathered up," put in a bag, shaken together, and then turned
out, the sum total of all would be seasickness. Words cannot express
nor pen describe it. If I had an enemy against whom I cherished
the most implacable feelings of revenge and hatred, the vary worst
thing I could wish him would be that he might be seasick for a
week.
On the night of the 10th the gale was very
heavy; the water came into the cabin and most of the state rooms.
I could see the white foaming waves dash across the skylight over
my berth. Nobody undertook to sleep. The winds and waves literally
played ball with me. I would be sent flying from my birth the
whole length of the stateroom, clear across Mrs. Ballard's berth,
bump up against the wall, and then back again to my own just as
if I didn't cost anything. I carry the marks of that night yet
and expect to for a good while. Fortunately, I was not a bit afraid.
Sick and banged about as I was, I laughed every hour of the night.
Mrs. Ballard was real mad at me two or three times for laughing,
but who could help it. Such a scene as it was -- The room lighted
by a little smoky lamp suspended from a nail; the ship rolling
and pitching at an awful rate; the storm roaring and the sailors
shouting and swearing outside; I in my berth at one end of the
state room so sick I didn't care a cent if the ship and all in
her went down the next minute. Mrs. Ballard's Harry in a berth
at the other end ditto, only a little
more so, with their heads both over one basis. Harry cries; his
mother tries to hold his head but fails in the attempt and lets
it drop. Harry cries louder, his cries intermingled with other
interesting sounds.
"Harry dear, don't cry; Mamma feels
very -- New York, New York -- sick too; try and keep a little
more -- New York, New York -- Oh, Oh -- quiet and then you'll
feel -- New York -- better." Then a series of "New Yorks"
from both followed by a succession of the most heart-rending groans,
and both subside down into bed again for about five minutes when
the vessel gives an extra roll, and the scene is re-enacted. Meantime
I would be in convulsions of laughter, but once in a while sick
myself. Mrs. Ballard was far worse than I was and could not rise
at all from her berth but would once in a while call on me for
something. I would get up; but the minute my feet touched the
floor, would be precipitated with the utmost violence from my
berth, over all our trunks, which were rolling in confusion from
one end of the room to the other, clear across her berth and back
again into my own without having accomplished my mission. Oh,
it was dreadful and ridiculous in the extreme. I verily thought
I should not have a whole bone left to take to China. All this
time, "New York" was being echoed from every state room;
every chair, table, and sofa in the cabin was pitching and rolling
about.
One of the sailors was brought in with his
arm broken. Two more were taken sick; and when morning broke,
a more uncomfortable looking place and set of people it would
be hard to find. We are all getting pretty well over it now except
Mr. Paul and Mr. Foster, who are in a most miserable condition
yet; and we are really beginning to be afraid that they will die,
as they are both in poor health to begin with.
Last night we had a very hard blow and were
followed by one of Jeff Davis' privateers. But thanks to the gale,
we outran her. The captain does not care how soon we meet one,
as we are all ready for them. We carry four heavy rifle cannon,
all the crew are armed with muskets, and most of the passengers
have revolvers. So, let Jeff come, the sooner the better.
We have a very heavy sea today and are rolling
at a great rate, but the wind is fair, and we are making 9 knots
an hour. I like these great high waves, and our good ship rides
them beautifully. We stay on deck nearly all the time, as very
few of us can face the dinner table yet, and the weather is so
rough that we get sick if we stay below. But I am getting much
better and can stay below long enough to write a short time. Pa
and Ollie are getting better too, but slowly.
Tuesday, Sept. 17th
We have been becalmed all day, making little or no speed. The
weather is splendid but warm, as every day brings us nearer the
tropics. We have been on deck all day reading, talking, getting
better acquainted, singing, whistling, cracking nuts, but especially
fishing for sea weed and sharks. Mr. De Silver is the "fool"
of the company. Misters Paul and Foster the invalids. Dr. McClellan
- chief musician, and each of the others have their own character.
I think the Doctor is about the best fellow on board. He is so
kind and attentive to the sick; and when that fellow got his arm
broken, he attended to it in such a self-possessed, cool, clever
way and has waited on him ever since and is so quiet and gentlemanly
about it. He is a first rate fellow and sings most splendidly.
Pa says he is five years younger since he came to sea. His trip
to Clinton made him ten years younger, so there are fifteen years
gained already; that's good. I have not done a single thing since
we came to sea, not one thing. And time begins to be heavy. This
afternoon I cut out another "sea shirt" for Ollie and
will sew tomorrow. I can have plenty to do if I want. For I have
a whole web of muslin besides plenty of "little work"
which I did have the wit to supply myself with in New York. But
having it to do and doing it are two different things.
There are two sails in sight. The crew are drilling with muskets. We see a good many flying fish today.
Wednesday, Sept. 18th
We are still in a dead calm. Not a breath of air is stirring,
and the surface of the sea is as smooth as glass. Still there
is a heavy underswell which keeps us rolling.
The Captain and Mr. Hanford both dreamed
last night that we were attacked by Jeff's privateers, so this
morning the guns were rigged and got in readiness, but we have
not seen Jeff yet.
About an hour ago Mr. De Silver caught a
shark; one of the gentlemen took me up on the gallant forecastle,
and I saw the whole operation; his three pilot fish would hardly
leave him, but one clung to him and was drawn up on deck
along. Doctor superintended the dissection of him. Great excitement
prevailed. Pa was very active in the cutting up business and ate
an immense dinner after it. Some dolphins are reported now, and
the forecastle is again the scene of operations. I took a ducking
in salt water today but would like it better if we could use soap
with it. The salt water got into my eyes too; and that I did not
like either, which not withstanding, I guess I might say now without
fibbing, "Richard's himself again." All the sick are
getting well; and if we only had a fair wind, we would be as merry,
happy and contented a set as anybody could find.
9 o'clock. Have been on deck all evening. It is a lovely night. Moonlight on land is splendid, but moonlight at sea is most glorious. I will not spoil it by attempting to describe it. Heigh ho, old Buttonwood.
Thursday, Sept. 19th.
Still becalmed away out here in the Atlantic. The weather still
extremely hot. Captain begins to be very impatient; four sails
in sight. They fired one of the cannon this morning. The cat was
sitting on it at the time. I called to the second mate, who was
touching it off; but he laughed, and the next minute puss disappeared
in a cloud of smoke, nobody knew where. But in the course of half
an hour of so, he came quietly out of the cabin, none the worse
for the wear. Surely a cat has nine lives.
I dreamed last night that we were attacked
by Jeff's pirates and told the Captain just for fun. He looked
very grave and pushed his warlike preparations. He is rather superstitious
about dreams and such things. Most sailors are. That Harry Ballard
keeps me in a continual passion. He is the most odious young one
I ever saw, having all the bad traits of a Yankee, which are many,
and none of the good ones, which at best are but few. He sits
next me at dinner; and I am always expecting that the next time
the vessel rolls, he will run his fork clear down his throat.
He rules his mother with a perfect rod of iron and is altogether
hateful in the extreme.
9 O.C. Had a regular farce on deck this
evening. Mr. De Silver and Uncle John played the clown for the
amusement of the rest. It is a fine night. I have been sewing
today a little. Mr. Williams, the first mate, asked me to make
some powder bags for the cannon, so I cut out 36; and Mrs. Cooper
and Ballard helped make them. Finished a shirt, all but the buttonholes,
which Mr. De Silver promised to make.
Friday, Sept. 20th.
Have just finished dinner and seem to feel decidedly comfortable.
Our daily routine is by this time quite settled. We rise in the
morning about seven. Anyone who wishes it has a cup of tea or
coffee sent to their room; breakfast at eight: beefsteak, hash,
fried or boiled onions, potatoes, hot rolls, pilot bread, light
bread, butter, molasses, tea, coffee, besides other things too
numerous to mention. Breakfast over, the gentlemen smoke; the
ladies read, sew or do nothing -- just as they like. At eleven
we have tiffin: cold meats, bread and butter, cheese, pickles,
cakes, claret, champaign, port, lemonade, whiskey or brandy or
all. Then the gentlemen smoke again; the ladies lounge with them
on deck until 3 o'clock when we dine. First course soup; 2nd roast
beef, corned beef, potatoes, turnips, rice, beets, pickles, pilot
bread, loaf bread, butter and different kinds of sauces. Dessert
-- pudding, pie, nuts, raisins and wine if we want it. We spend
a long time at dinner; and by the time we rise, it is beginning
to get cool; so we all go on deck -- the gentlemen smoke; the
ladies chat; all are very sociable; and at 6 we go down to tea
and coffee, toast and butter, pickles, bread, ginger bread and
sundry other viands, after which we adjourn again to the deck,
enjoy the moonlight; the gentlemen smoke again. When they get
through, all form in groups, talk, sing, and do a great variety
of things, some of which Bell could probably guess at. Altogether
we lead a free and easy, indolent, contented sort of life, perfectly
contented with it while it lasts, but when it is ended will welcome
a change. Fair wind. Hurrah for China.
Saturday, Sept. 21st.
I wonder what is the reason that just after dinner the spirit
always moves me to write up my log. It cannot be that I am at
that time in a remarkably good humor. My seat at the table is
between that hateful little Harry and Mr. Paul, who is a disagreeable,
egotistical, selfish bear; but in spite of them both, I manage
to enjoy my dinner very well.
Fair wind today and smooth sea. Uncle John
is laid up on his mattress on deck with the rheumatism, produced
by too frequent bathing.
Yesterday a suspicious looking craft dodged
about us all day and at night fall piled on all her canvass and
gave direct chase. She was a fore and aft schooner and sailed
very fast. All were a good deal alarmed. It was some excitement
for us. All our sail was soon hoisted, and we had a grand race
in the moonlight. The captain was really frightened and sat in
the stern with his glass, watching her movements and expecting
every minute that she would send a ball across our bows. I was
not a bit scared but much excited and was cutting up at a great
rate. When Mr. Paul, who was pale with fright, undertook to scold
me for it and called me foolhardy -- wasn't I mad -- I just turned
around and let out what I had been holding in for some time. Told
him he was a coward and didn't stop until I had entirely relieved
myself. When he picked up his chair sheepishly and walked away,
all the rest were glad; for Mr. Paul is universally disliked.
At last the schooner gave up the chase and
changed her course. We have a good wind today, all hands in excellent
health excepting Mr. Paul &
Mr. Foster, who are still a good deal the worse for the wear.
Sunday, Sept. 22nd.
No wind today, and the heat is most intense. We have mattresses
on deck and all hands lounge. The doctor this morning read a chapter
from the Bible aloud to the rest of us on deck. Then Mr. Foster
got his flute and a book of sacred music, and the way we put through
the Methodist hymns wasn't slow. Had a great big watermelon after
dinner, just out of the ice house, which was extra nice.
Saw a beautiful "Portuguese-man-of-war,"
a species of nautilus with all
the colors of the rainbow, floating on the water. This morning
the stewardess threw the cat overboard to the great horror of
the sailors, who as well as the mates, are very superstitious
about cats and regard such a thing as an evil omen.
I don't find the voyage monotonous as yet,
but am perfectly well, content and happy. Once in a while I wish
for Bell or [word or words missing] along. I am one by myself
here. Mrs. Ballard & Mrs. Cooper are very thick together which
suits me exactly -- for one is a Yankee and the other English,
and I have no idea of having over much to do with either of them.
All the rest are gentlemen. I am the only girl on board and everybody
looks after me, teases me, and waits on me by turns; so I fare
finely and have lots of fun. I am also first rate friends with
the captain and mate. Pa and Ollie want me to let my hair grow,
but I really cannot do it now, as I have no way of putting it
up.
I should like to run over and spend the
evening at Buttonwood, but don't see any prospect
of my being able to do so, so I guess I'll go on deck for a change.
No matter; I expect to spend a good many evenings at Buttonwood
yet.
Monday, Sept. 23rd.
A fair wind this morning and going along nicely, not so warm as
it has been either. I do wonder if ever I will get in a place
where I will not have anybody establish themselves as my "guardian
Angel" when it is none of their business, where I can turn
around or say three words or (as Frank Anderson says) "look
crosseyed" without everybody criticizing it. In short, where
I will be let alone and allowed to pursue the "even tenor
of my way" unmolested. I cannot talk, laugh or promenade
with one of the gentlemen but that Mrs. Ballard & Mrs. Cooper
get their heads together and pronounce it a flirtation as if it
was any of their business and as if I am going to change my ways
for them. They are good-natured enough about it, and both seem
to like me. But they don't seem to have any sense and sometimes
put me in an awkward position. I should think that two ladies
of their age and experience would know better and have more wit
than to talk to a girl the way they do. It is disgusting.
We saw seagulls today. They are snow white and very pretty. One was floating on the water, another dived away down and caught a fish. The water is very blue and a great deal of sea weed is floating. I have not sewed any today. Mrs. Ballard and Mrs. Cooper sent me for my work half a dozen times, but I didn't go. Uncle John is still pretty sick. Mr. De Silver is sick too from the effects of injudicious bathing. They both might know better, I should think.