Beside the length of the voyage, and the hard and exposed life, we were in the remote parts of the earth, on an almost desert coast, in a country where there is neither law nor gospel, and where sailors are at their captain’s mercy, there being no American consul, or any one to whom a complaint could be made.  We lost all interest in the voyage, cared nothing about the cargo, which we were only collecting for others, began to patch our clothes, and felt as though our fate was fixed beyond all hope of change.

In addition to, and perhaps partly as a consequence of, this state of things, there was trouble brewing on board the vessel.  Our mate (as the first mate is always called, par excellence) was a worthy man.—­ a more honest, upright, and kind-hearted man I never saw,—­ but he was too easy and amiable for the mate of a merchantman.  He was not the man to call a sailor a ``son of a bitch,’’ and knock him down with a handspike.  Perhaps he really lacked the energy and spirit for such a voyage as ours, and for such a captain.  Captain Thompson was a vigorous, energetic fellow.  As sailors say, ``he hadn’t a lazy bone in him.’’ He was made of steel and whalebone.  He was a man to ``toe the mark,’’ and to make every one else step up to it.  During all the time that I was with him, I never saw him sit down on deck.  He was always active and driving, severe in his discipline, and expected the same of his officers.  The mate not being enough of a driver for him, he was dissatisfied with him, became suspicious that discipline was getting relaxed, and began to interfere in everything.  He drew the reins tighter; and as, in all quarrels between officers, the sailors side with the one who treats them best, he became suspicious of the crew.  He saw that things went wrong,—­ that nothing was done ``with a will’’; and in his attempt to remedy the difficulty by severity he made everything worse.  We were in all respects unfortunately situated,—­ captain, officers, and crew, entirely unfitted for one another; and every circumstance and event was like a two-edged sword, and cut both ways.  The length of the voyage, which made us dissatisfied, made the captain, at the same time, see the necessity of order and strict discipline; and the nature of the country, which caused us to feel that we had nowhere to go for redress, but were at the mercy of a hard master, made the captain understand, on the other hand, that he must depend entirely upon his own resources.  Severity created discontent, and signs of discontent provoked severity.  Then, too, ill-treatment and dissatisfaction are no ``linimenta laborum’’; and many a time have I heard the sailors say that they should not mind the length of the voyage, and the hardships, if they were only kindly treated, and if they could feel that something was done to make work lighter and life easier.  We felt as though our situation was a call upon our superiors to give us occasional relaxations, and to make our yoke easier.