Chapter 12

As soon as the Trio was off, I got well. Little did I then think of the
great risk I ran in going ashore; for it was almost certain death for an
European to land, for any length of time, at that season. Still less did
I, or _could_ I, anticipate what was to happen to myself, in this very
hospital, a few years later; or how long I was to be one of its truly
suffering, and, I hope, repentant inmates. The consul was frank enough to
tell me that I had been shamming Abraham; and I so far imitated his
sincerity as distinctly to state, it was quite true. I thought the old
Trio ought to have been left on the bank, where Providence had placed her;
but, it being the pleasure of her captain and the supercargo to take her
bones to the Isle of France for burial, I did not choose to go so far,
weeping through the pumps, to attend her funeral.

As the consul held my wages, and refused to give me any money, I was
compelled to get on board some vessel as soon as I could. Batavia was not
a place for an American constitution, and I was glad to be off. I shipped,
before the mast, in the Clyde, of Salem, a good little ship, with good
living and good treatment. We sailed immediately, but not soon enough to
escape the Batavia fever. Two of the crew died, about a week out, and were
buried in the Straits of Banca. The day we lost sight of Java Head, it
came on to blow fresh, and we had to take in the jib, and double-reef the
topsails. A man of the name of Day went down on the bowsprit shrouds to
clear the jib-sheets, when the ship made a heavy pitch, and washed him
away. The second mate and myself got into the boat, and were lowered as
soon as the ship was rounded-to. There was a very heavy sea on, but we
succeeded in finding the poor fellow, who was swimming with great apparent
strength. His face was towards the boat, and, as we came near, I rose, and
threw the blade of my oar towards him, calling out to him to be of good
cheer. At this instant, Day seemed to spring nearly his length out of
water, and immediately sunk. What caused this extraordinary effort, and
sudden failure, was never known. I have sometimes thought a shark must
have struck him, though I saw neither blood nor fish. The man was
hopelessly lost, and we returned to the ship, feeling as seamen always
feel on such occasions.

A few days later, another man died of the fever. This left but five of us
in the forecastle, with the ship a long way to the eastward of the Cape of
Good Hope. Before we got up with the Cape, another foremast hand went
crazy, and, instead of helping us, became a cause of much trouble for the
rest of the passage. In the end, he died, mad. We had now only three men
in a watch, the officers included; and of course, it was trick and trick
at the