One day, comparing the result of a solar observation with the mate, and finding him out in his calculations, the captain accused him, in great anger, of imposition, in offering his services as an efficient person to navigate the ship.  On my endeavouring to pacify him, he turned to me, in a violent passion, and exclaimed, “This man, sir, is 400 miles out in his reckoning—­and where would you and the ship be, do you think, if I were washed overboard!” this argument was too cogent to be combated, and so I interfered no more.  He ordered the mate to go to the forecastle, and refused to admit him to the cabin during the remainder of the passage.  The mate was much irritated at this treatment, and, after a violent altercation, one day rushed to his chest and brought up two pistols, one of which he presented in the face of the captain, daring him at the same time to utter another word.  The captain, highly incensed, instantly descended the companion-way to the cabin, and shortly after appeared with a blunderbuss, which he proceeded to prime.  I was in a terrible state of mind at this juncture, and fully expected a fearful tragedy; this, however, was averted by the interference of another passenger, who stood between the parties.

A violent storm overtook us in doubling Cape Hatteras soon after we sailed, which, besides damaging the bulwarks of the vessel, tore some of the sails to shivers; our ship stood it, however, gallantly, and, after that occurrence, we had favourable weather the remainder of the voyage.

I was awaked early in the morning of the twenty-first day we had been at sea, by a cry from the man at the helm, of “Great Ormes Head,” and, hurrying on my clothes, I gained the deck.  The high hills could be indistinctly seen through the morning haze, and the sight was accompanied with joyful feelings to all on board.  This enthusiasm was even communicated to the captain himself, who, since the affair with the mate, had been very much disposed to be sullen and unfriendly.

I never could form a correct estimate of this man’s character, but it was very evident he wished to pass for a pious man.  He was a native of the eastern state of Massachusetts, and told me he had a family there.  As to religion, I believe he had none, though he was a Methodist by profession.  I could often hear him praying audibly in his state-room on board, with much apparent feeling—­but so little did these devotional fits aid him in curbing his wicked temper, that, even when engaged in this manner, he would, if anything extraordinary occurred on deck to disturb him, rush up the companion-way, and rate and swear at the sailors awfully.

Soon after making Ormes Head, a pilot came on board, and, with a fair wind, we proceeded towards the river Mersey.

After my wanderings in the slave-stricken regions of the south, and my escapes in Florida, the sight of the hospitable shores of my native country did more, I think, to renovate my injured health, than all the drastics of the most eminent physicians in the world; certain it is, that, from this time, I gradually recovered, and, by the blessing of the Great Giver of all good, have been fully restored to that greatest of sublunary benefits—­vigorous health; a consummation I at one time almost despaired of.