"sea
legs on," was dreadfully sick, with hardly strength enough to hold on
to anything, and it was "pitch dark." This was my state when I was
ordered aloft, for the first time, to reef topsails.

How I got along, I cannot now remember. I "laid out" on the yards and
held on with all my strength. I could not have been of much service,
for I remember having been sick several times before I left the topsail
yard. Soon all was snug aloft, and we were again allowed to go below.
This I did not consider much of a favor, for the confusion of
everything below, and that inexpressible sickening smell, caused by the
shaking up of the bilge-water in the hold, made the steerage but an
indifferent refuge from the cold, wet decks. I had often read of the
nautical experiences of others, but I felt as though there could be
none worse than mine; for in addition to every other evil, I could not
but remember that this was only the first night of a two years' voyage.
When we were on deck we were not much better off, for we were
continually ordered about by the officer, who said that it was good for
us to be in motion. Yet anything was better than the horrible state of
things below. I remember very well going to the hatchway and putting my
head down, when I was oppressed by nausea, and always being relieved
immediately. It was as good as an emetic.

This state of things continued for two days.

Wednesday, Aug. 20th. We had the watch on deck from four till eight,
this morning. When we came on deck at four o'clock, we found things
much changed for the better. The sea and wind had gone down, and the
stars were out bright. I experienced a corresponding change in my
feelings; yet continued extremely weak from my sickness. I stood in
the waist on the weather side, watching the gradual breaking of the
day, and the first streaks of the early light. Much has been said of
the sun-rise at sea; but it will not compare with the sun-rise on
shore. It wants the accompaniments of the songs of birds, the awakening
hum of men, and the glancing of the first beams upon trees, hills,
spires, and house-tops, to give it life and spirit. But though the
actual rise of the sun at sea is not so beautiful, yet nothing will
compare with the early breaking of day upon the wide ocean.

There is something in the first grey streaks stretching along the
eastern horizon and throwing an indistinct light upon the face of the
deep, which combines with the boundless