Text
Christian Advocate
December 1824 (p. 563-566)
Religious Intelligence.
SANDWICH ISLANDS.
In May last we began to publish extracts from the journal of Betsey Stockton, which was kept during
the voyage of the mission family, of which she formed a part, to the Sandwich Islands; and we promised
a continuance of these extracts. The publication of the interesting journal of the Rev. Mr. Stewart
imediately afterward, and the occupation of this part of our miscellany by the minutes of the General
Assembly since, have occasioned delay in the fulfilment of our promise till the present time. Nor shall we
now publish as largely from this journal, as we should have done, if we had not given such copious
extracts from that of Mr. Stewart. But a journal of a sea voyage, if well written, is never uninteresting, or
out of date: and a missionary voyage must, we think, be perused by friends of missions with uncommon
interest. In our present number we shall give the narrative of the approach to and passage round Cape
Horn; and in our next the continuance of the voyage across the Pacifick ocean, till the arrival of the family
at the place of their destination, and the settlement of the writer in the island of Lahaina.
(Continued from p. 235.)
Feb. 5th, 1823.—All well and anxious to get round Cape Horn; a little blow in the afternoon. We are not
without our fears; but the Lord reigneth, and we will rejoice. Lat. 49° 40'—lon. 62° 08'.
Feb. 6th.—The weather is beginning to be rather cold. I find my woollen clothes to be very comfortable :
my health is very good again—a little home sick, but do not wish to return. O! thought I, if I could but
spend one Sabbath evening in your study, how my heart would rejoice. But I must look forward to that
Sabbath which will never end—there to see, face to face, what we now see dimly through a glass; and to
meet you, with my other friends, whom I have left behind. It is a source of consolation to me to be able to
think that you, with many others in my native land, pray for me. Were it not for that, I should almost
despair. I find my heart more deeply corrupted than I had any idea of. I always knew that the human heart
was a sink of sin, and that mine was filled with it; but I did not know, until now, that the sink was without
a bottom. I attribute much of my spiritual difficulty to the want of retirement and prayer. It is with the
greatest anxiety that I mark the hours us they pass away, which once were devoted to God in secret,
without having at present a place for retirement, or indeed at times a heart to retire. Ah ! how soon may
the people of God grieve away his Holy Spirit. But why should I thus complain and despond. He is still
my Father and my God—and I still love him—Yes, my balm is still in Gilead, and my physician there.—
Lat, 56° 41'—lon. 63°.
Feb, 7.—Still sailing with all speed towards Cape Horn. Just as the sun was setting, we were called to
witness one of the most sublime scenes that ever the eyes of mortals beheld—no language could paint
it—it was the setting of the sun. The scene kept changing from beautiful to more beautiful, until I could
think of nothing but the bright worlds above, to which the saints are hastening. As soon as it was over,
and the sun had disappeared, we were assembled on the quarter deck for prayers. Here my soul found free
access to the throne of grace, and rose with delight in the contemplation of that God who is the author of
all our joys, and of all good.
Feb. 8.—I was roused this morning by Mr. Lane, who came into the cabin to inform the captain that there
was land two points off the weather bow. The captain told him to brace and stand for it. I soon dressed
myself, and went on deck to see it. Its first appearance was that of a dark cloud; but it became much
darker as we approached it; until we came near enough to discover cragged rocks, with a whitish earth
running between them. It was about 12 o’clock when we first saw the white streaks, and at 1 we could see
the greenish appearance of the mountains. Half an hour afterwards we saw a smoke rising from them, and
at 2 a light blaze. It was however, soon extinguished. What this fire was, no one on board could tellperhaps a company of sealers had stopped there, and seeing our ship, lighted it up to alarm us. Or it might
be the signal of distress for some poor cast-away sailor—or possibly a volcanic eruption. Our captain had
often passed Staten land before, but had seen nothing of the kind. But our situation was too critical to
admit of a moment’s delay to make observations; for we were now near enough to see the breakers
dashing against this forbidden shore; and either a calm or squall might prove fatal to us. I thought
of the language of the poet, as I looked at these craggy cliffs—
“Alas! these rocks all human skill defy. Who strikes them once, beyond relief, must die.”
We continued sailing near them until 4 o’clock, when a calm ensued. Our captain said nothing to us, but
evidently appeared troubled. I then knew no danger, and talked to him as usual—asked him to send a boat
ashore; and jestingly told him, that I would accompany him. I thought he appeared very solemn, and
could give no reason for it. The truth was, that a strong current was drawing us towards these fatal rocks;
and if wind enough should not rise to render the ship manageable, we must inevitably be wrecked upon
them, during the ensuing night. Here you will indulge me with a passing reflection. I have always
remarked, that in the most dangerous situations, I have felt the easiest; and it was because I did not know
my danger. And can there be anything more like a sleeping Christian, or an unawakened sinner? both in
imminent danger, and both stupid. O that God may save me from the spiritual, as he has in mercy from
the natural evil. A fresh breeze sprung up towards evening, and we were soon borne beyond the reach
of the current; and in a few hours Staten land receded entirely from our view. But fresh dangers and
anxieties awaited us.
Feb. 9th.—Here begins our tossing and rolling.—To-day we have had rain and hail in squalls. We cannot
write or read with comfort; and if we attempt to eat, sitting on chairs that are not lashed, the chance is ten
to one that we are thrown across the cabin, before the meal is over. I have had several pretty hard blows
on my head, since we left the river Plate. Our latitude, as far as we can judge from reckoning and
observation, is 55° 26'— lon. 35°. Twenty-one days ensue after this, in which there was snow, hail, rain,
and one continued gale. Sometimes we could scud before the wind; but the most of the time it was too
strong to admit of that; we generally lay too under a close reefed top-sail, and mizen-stay-sail. Oh! how
cheerless every thing looked around us, in comparison with what it did some time ago. The sailors were
all wet, day and night; the forecastle was half of the time under water; and the water that was shipped at
the bow, ran as far as the companion-way. All over the ship there was nothing but dirt and wet, so
slippery that we could not stand. One night, at twelve o'clock, I went on deck, when the ship was laying
too, under nothing but a close reefed top-sail. The wind was so strong, that I could not stand without
holding by my hands to something fixed : it seemed as if the ship was going on her beam ends every
moment. The sailors were always pleased to see me on deck in a storm, and tried more than once to
frighten me; but when they found that they did not succeed, they ended with saying, “ well Betsey, you’ll
know how to pity poor sailors—we have not been dry since we left Staten land.” My heart has often bled
for these poor fellows. I slept whenever I could, night or day. Studying was out of the question; I found it
impossible to put two ideas together, half the time. During this period, we caught several birds; one or
two of which I tried to save for Mr. — , but the rain continued so long that they were spoiled. The
sailors call them Mother Carey’s chickens, And Mock Mollys. The most beautiful that I have seen is the
Mock Molly. Of this species we took a number. They are a little larger than a goose. In viewing Cape
Horn, I can truly say the half was not told me. It is indeed one of the most dreadful places ever seen; and
if I double it again, I shall endeavour to do it by the way of the Cape of Good Hope; this, I know, is a
blunder, but it conveys my meaning. In a gale we lost the waste-board of the ship; this left the deck three
feet nearer to the water, and consequently we shipped more water than usual. I had always had the good
fortune to be below when the deck got washed very badly; and as we were soon to be in the milder waters
of the Pacifick, I wished very much to see our vessel ship one heavy sea, as the sailors call it. My wishes
were answered in the following manner—One afternoon, when I had been suffering for some time with
wet feet, I went to the caboose to warm them; just as I was coming out, I got both my eyes filled with
ashes and embers, which put me in a very unfavourable situation for seeing what I had wished to see : but
at that moment I heard a sea strike the leeward side of the ship, fore and aft; in an instant I sprang to the
shrouds, and heard the water run in a torrent under me. My poor eyes were condemned to darkness: a
liquid made of salt water mid ashes did not improve them just then. However I felt no inconvenience from
it afterwards, except that it afforded fine sport, for some time, to the captain, who often observed that
Betsey had shipped a sea in her face. This occurrence however did not intimidate me : I went on deck
very often to view the grandeur of the sea; and it is truly one of the most sublime objects in creation. I
have spent hours since I left my native land in view ing this object. At times I have seen the waves rise
mountains high before us; and it would appear as if we must inevitably be swallowed up; but in a moment
our ship would rise upon the wave, and it would be seen receding at the stern. I stayed on deck one
evening until 12 o’clock, looking at the waves breaking over the ship : it was one of the most beautiful
sights I ever beheld. The water would foam up like mountains of snow around us, and break over the
deck; while below it sounded like thunder, or like rivers running over us. I could compare our sailing
when going before the wind to nothing but flying. We were scudding with the wind directly aft, under a
close reefed top and main-sail; of course the ship rolled and pitched at the same time. Captain Clasby had
told us, more than once, that if the wind was fair, we must take care of ourselves, for he did not intend to
spare us. He was now literally fulfilling his words; for he neither spared us nor the ship. I felt more afraid
that her sides would meet the same fate that the waste-board did, than of any thing else. She laboured very
hard, and we shipped so much water, that the pumps were kept at work every four hours. I have thought at
times, in the night, that we were on a rock; but on inquiry, the answer would be, nothing but Cape Horn.
However, we are almost done with it, and I am not sorry : nor am I sorry that I have been called to double
it; for I have enjoyed more of the light of my heavenly Father’s countenance, during the time we were off
the Cape, than I ever did in the Atlantic. The only reason I can assign is, that here we have been called
hourly to acknowledge his mercy in sparing our lives; and that while we here view his power upon this
stormy ocean, we have felt our helplessness, and been made to adore and tremble. I am not writing to one
who is unacquainted with the human heart; you know its dark deceitful nature, and that it is not always
kept warm by tender treatment. For me at least it is necessary, in order to keep me in my place, to have
some doubts, some temptations, and some sickness to struggle with; and even then my garments are far
from being kept white. But hitherto has the Lord helped me, and I can raise upon this much dreaded
landmark, a strong and lasting Ebenezer. Long, I hope, shall I remember the mercy of my God here. Here
too the Spirit of the Lord has, I trust, been striving with some of the sailors, though many are yet, I fear, in
the gall of bitterness; some, however, are rejoicing in the Lord. How would your heart rejoice with us,
could you see these hardy sons of the ocean, who would scorn to complain of any earthly hardships,
bowing with the spirit of children, at the cross of Christ. This fact we witness; and if I could do it as I
wish, it would please me to give you an account of some of their conversations— their plain, abrupt, and
sailor-like manner of expressing their thoughts and feelings; but I must leave this for an abler pen.
(To be concluded in our next.)
December 1824 (p. 563-566)
Religious Intelligence.
SANDWICH ISLANDS.
In May last we began to publish extracts from the journal of Betsey Stockton, which was kept during
the voyage of the mission family, of which she formed a part, to the Sandwich Islands; and we promised
a continuance of these extracts. The publication of the interesting journal of the Rev. Mr. Stewart
imediately afterward, and the occupation of this part of our miscellany by the minutes of the General
Assembly since, have occasioned delay in the fulfilment of our promise till the present time. Nor shall we
now publish as largely from this journal, as we should have done, if we had not given such copious
extracts from that of Mr. Stewart. But a journal of a sea voyage, if well written, is never uninteresting, or
out of date: and a missionary voyage must, we think, be perused by friends of missions with uncommon
interest. In our present number we shall give the narrative of the approach to and passage round Cape
Horn; and in our next the continuance of the voyage across the Pacifick ocean, till the arrival of the family
at the place of their destination, and the settlement of the writer in the island of Lahaina.
(Continued from p. 235.)
Feb. 5th, 1823.—All well and anxious to get round Cape Horn; a little blow in the afternoon. We are not
without our fears; but the Lord reigneth, and we will rejoice. Lat. 49° 40'—lon. 62° 08'.
Feb. 6th.—The weather is beginning to be rather cold. I find my woollen clothes to be very comfortable :
my health is very good again—a little home sick, but do not wish to return. O! thought I, if I could but
spend one Sabbath evening in your study, how my heart would rejoice. But I must look forward to that
Sabbath which will never end—there to see, face to face, what we now see dimly through a glass; and to
meet you, with my other friends, whom I have left behind. It is a source of consolation to me to be able to
think that you, with many others in my native land, pray for me. Were it not for that, I should almost
despair. I find my heart more deeply corrupted than I had any idea of. I always knew that the human heart
was a sink of sin, and that mine was filled with it; but I did not know, until now, that the sink was without
a bottom. I attribute much of my spiritual difficulty to the want of retirement and prayer. It is with the
greatest anxiety that I mark the hours us they pass away, which once were devoted to God in secret,
without having at present a place for retirement, or indeed at times a heart to retire. Ah ! how soon may
the people of God grieve away his Holy Spirit. But why should I thus complain and despond. He is still
my Father and my God—and I still love him—Yes, my balm is still in Gilead, and my physician there.—
Lat, 56° 41'—lon. 63°.
Feb, 7.—Still sailing with all speed towards Cape Horn. Just as the sun was setting, we were called to
witness one of the most sublime scenes that ever the eyes of mortals beheld—no language could paint
it—it was the setting of the sun. The scene kept changing from beautiful to more beautiful, until I could
think of nothing but the bright worlds above, to which the saints are hastening. As soon as it was over,
and the sun had disappeared, we were assembled on the quarter deck for prayers. Here my soul found free
access to the throne of grace, and rose with delight in the contemplation of that God who is the author of
all our joys, and of all good.
Feb. 8.—I was roused this morning by Mr. Lane, who came into the cabin to inform the captain that there
was land two points off the weather bow. The captain told him to brace and stand for it. I soon dressed
myself, and went on deck to see it. Its first appearance was that of a dark cloud; but it became much
darker as we approached it; until we came near enough to discover cragged rocks, with a whitish earth
running between them. It was about 12 o’clock when we first saw the white streaks, and at 1 we could see
the greenish appearance of the mountains. Half an hour afterwards we saw a smoke rising from them, and
at 2 a light blaze. It was however, soon extinguished. What this fire was, no one on board could tellperhaps a company of sealers had stopped there, and seeing our ship, lighted it up to alarm us. Or it might
be the signal of distress for some poor cast-away sailor—or possibly a volcanic eruption. Our captain had
often passed Staten land before, but had seen nothing of the kind. But our situation was too critical to
admit of a moment’s delay to make observations; for we were now near enough to see the breakers
dashing against this forbidden shore; and either a calm or squall might prove fatal to us. I thought
of the language of the poet, as I looked at these craggy cliffs—
“Alas! these rocks all human skill defy. Who strikes them once, beyond relief, must die.”
We continued sailing near them until 4 o’clock, when a calm ensued. Our captain said nothing to us, but
evidently appeared troubled. I then knew no danger, and talked to him as usual—asked him to send a boat
ashore; and jestingly told him, that I would accompany him. I thought he appeared very solemn, and
could give no reason for it. The truth was, that a strong current was drawing us towards these fatal rocks;
and if wind enough should not rise to render the ship manageable, we must inevitably be wrecked upon
them, during the ensuing night. Here you will indulge me with a passing reflection. I have always
remarked, that in the most dangerous situations, I have felt the easiest; and it was because I did not know
my danger. And can there be anything more like a sleeping Christian, or an unawakened sinner? both in
imminent danger, and both stupid. O that God may save me from the spiritual, as he has in mercy from
the natural evil. A fresh breeze sprung up towards evening, and we were soon borne beyond the reach
of the current; and in a few hours Staten land receded entirely from our view. But fresh dangers and
anxieties awaited us.
Feb. 9th.—Here begins our tossing and rolling.—To-day we have had rain and hail in squalls. We cannot
write or read with comfort; and if we attempt to eat, sitting on chairs that are not lashed, the chance is ten
to one that we are thrown across the cabin, before the meal is over. I have had several pretty hard blows
on my head, since we left the river Plate. Our latitude, as far as we can judge from reckoning and
observation, is 55° 26'— lon. 35°. Twenty-one days ensue after this, in which there was snow, hail, rain,
and one continued gale. Sometimes we could scud before the wind; but the most of the time it was too
strong to admit of that; we generally lay too under a close reefed top-sail, and mizen-stay-sail. Oh! how
cheerless every thing looked around us, in comparison with what it did some time ago. The sailors were
all wet, day and night; the forecastle was half of the time under water; and the water that was shipped at
the bow, ran as far as the companion-way. All over the ship there was nothing but dirt and wet, so
slippery that we could not stand. One night, at twelve o'clock, I went on deck, when the ship was laying
too, under nothing but a close reefed top-sail. The wind was so strong, that I could not stand without
holding by my hands to something fixed : it seemed as if the ship was going on her beam ends every
moment. The sailors were always pleased to see me on deck in a storm, and tried more than once to
frighten me; but when they found that they did not succeed, they ended with saying, “ well Betsey, you’ll
know how to pity poor sailors—we have not been dry since we left Staten land.” My heart has often bled
for these poor fellows. I slept whenever I could, night or day. Studying was out of the question; I found it
impossible to put two ideas together, half the time. During this period, we caught several birds; one or
two of which I tried to save for Mr. — , but the rain continued so long that they were spoiled. The
sailors call them Mother Carey’s chickens, And Mock Mollys. The most beautiful that I have seen is the
Mock Molly. Of this species we took a number. They are a little larger than a goose. In viewing Cape
Horn, I can truly say the half was not told me. It is indeed one of the most dreadful places ever seen; and
if I double it again, I shall endeavour to do it by the way of the Cape of Good Hope; this, I know, is a
blunder, but it conveys my meaning. In a gale we lost the waste-board of the ship; this left the deck three
feet nearer to the water, and consequently we shipped more water than usual. I had always had the good
fortune to be below when the deck got washed very badly; and as we were soon to be in the milder waters
of the Pacifick, I wished very much to see our vessel ship one heavy sea, as the sailors call it. My wishes
were answered in the following manner—One afternoon, when I had been suffering for some time with
wet feet, I went to the caboose to warm them; just as I was coming out, I got both my eyes filled with
ashes and embers, which put me in a very unfavourable situation for seeing what I had wished to see : but
at that moment I heard a sea strike the leeward side of the ship, fore and aft; in an instant I sprang to the
shrouds, and heard the water run in a torrent under me. My poor eyes were condemned to darkness: a
liquid made of salt water mid ashes did not improve them just then. However I felt no inconvenience from
it afterwards, except that it afforded fine sport, for some time, to the captain, who often observed that
Betsey had shipped a sea in her face. This occurrence however did not intimidate me : I went on deck
very often to view the grandeur of the sea; and it is truly one of the most sublime objects in creation. I
have spent hours since I left my native land in view ing this object. At times I have seen the waves rise
mountains high before us; and it would appear as if we must inevitably be swallowed up; but in a moment
our ship would rise upon the wave, and it would be seen receding at the stern. I stayed on deck one
evening until 12 o’clock, looking at the waves breaking over the ship : it was one of the most beautiful
sights I ever beheld. The water would foam up like mountains of snow around us, and break over the
deck; while below it sounded like thunder, or like rivers running over us. I could compare our sailing
when going before the wind to nothing but flying. We were scudding with the wind directly aft, under a
close reefed top and main-sail; of course the ship rolled and pitched at the same time. Captain Clasby had
told us, more than once, that if the wind was fair, we must take care of ourselves, for he did not intend to
spare us. He was now literally fulfilling his words; for he neither spared us nor the ship. I felt more afraid
that her sides would meet the same fate that the waste-board did, than of any thing else. She laboured very
hard, and we shipped so much water, that the pumps were kept at work every four hours. I have thought at
times, in the night, that we were on a rock; but on inquiry, the answer would be, nothing but Cape Horn.
However, we are almost done with it, and I am not sorry : nor am I sorry that I have been called to double
it; for I have enjoyed more of the light of my heavenly Father’s countenance, during the time we were off
the Cape, than I ever did in the Atlantic. The only reason I can assign is, that here we have been called
hourly to acknowledge his mercy in sparing our lives; and that while we here view his power upon this
stormy ocean, we have felt our helplessness, and been made to adore and tremble. I am not writing to one
who is unacquainted with the human heart; you know its dark deceitful nature, and that it is not always
kept warm by tender treatment. For me at least it is necessary, in order to keep me in my place, to have
some doubts, some temptations, and some sickness to struggle with; and even then my garments are far
from being kept white. But hitherto has the Lord helped me, and I can raise upon this much dreaded
landmark, a strong and lasting Ebenezer. Long, I hope, shall I remember the mercy of my God here. Here
too the Spirit of the Lord has, I trust, been striving with some of the sailors, though many are yet, I fear, in
the gall of bitterness; some, however, are rejoicing in the Lord. How would your heart rejoice with us,
could you see these hardy sons of the ocean, who would scorn to complain of any earthly hardships,
bowing with the spirit of children, at the cross of Christ. This fact we witness; and if I could do it as I
wish, it would please me to give you an account of some of their conversations— their plain, abrupt, and
sailor-like manner of expressing their thoughts and feelings; but I must leave this for an abler pen.
(To be concluded in our next.)