such, that it was some time before his friends and a surgeon who was present could examine his condition, which appeared deplorable enough. Indeed, an examination seemed hardly necessary, unless for the purpose of gratifying curiosity, as the wretched man, amid his groans and screams, kept repeating, with much emphasis and pathos, the terrible words, "Je suis assassiné! Je suis assassiné !" (I am killed! I am killed!) But as his voice grew stronger, instead of weaker, at every repetition of the phrase, doubts were entertained of his veracity; and a surgical inspection showed beyond cavil, that he was laboring under a hallucination, and asseverating with needless energy what was not strictly true.

That he was not killed on the spot, however, impaled on a rapier as an unscrupulous entomologist would impale a beetle, could hardly be regarded as the fault of his opponent. The thrust was directed to the place where the centre of the body of the Frenchman should have been, but it was not there. The sword passed only through the muscles of the abdomen, from the right side to the left, perforating his body, it is true, and grazing, but not injuring, the larger intestines. The wound in itself was not a dangerous one, although the disturbance among the bundle of integuments threw the discomfited duellist into almost mortal agony, and led him to believe he was a dead man, while experiencing in his own person a liberal share of the pain he was so ready to inflict on others.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A VOYAGE TO HAVRE.

THE Betsey remained some weeks at the levee at New Orleans before Mr. Ware could fix upon a voyage. In the mean time Ricker remained on board as master of the brig; and for several days after our arrival in port his habits were correct and his conduct without reproach. Gradually, however, he strayed from the paths of sobriety. He was of a social turn; frank, honest, cheerful, and liberal-minded. He possessed other valuable traits of character; was a good sailor and a skilful navigator, but he could not resist the fascinations of the intoxicating cup.

Intemperance disqualifies a man from employments where the exercise of cool judgment, and clear, undisturbed reasoning faculties are required; and no person addicted to habits of intemperance should be intrusted with the command of a ship, where property to a large amount, and lives of incalculable value, are, as it were, given into his hands. If records of disasters could be faithfully kept, and unfolded, we should have an appalling list of casualties, quarrels, mutinies, and shipwrecks which have been. caused by intemperance on the part of the commanders.

Mr. Ware, the commercial agent of Mr. Gray, when visiting the brig had seen Ricker more than once in a situation which roused his suspicions that all was not right, and one unlucky afternoon he found him in a helpless, maudlin condition, which convinced him that Mr. Ricker, notwithstanding his excellent qualities, was not a person to whom could be safely given the control of property and life on the high seas.

Ricker was mortified at losing, through his own weakness, the command of the brig. He made no complaint,

however, of harsh or unjust treatment on the part of Mr. Ware; and consented to remain as mate, promising to refrain entirely from the use of spirituous liquors. The command was given to an officer in the United States navy, Lieutenant Rapp; and in this way I was ousted from the berth which Ricker was so desirous I should fill. There was no longer a home for me in the cabin of the Betsey, and I shipped as an ordinary seaman on board the brig Casket, of New York, Captain Mott, bound on a voyage to Havre.

The Casket was a large and handsome brig, and besides the captain, mate, boatswain, and cook, carried six hands before the mast. The chief mate was a hard-looking customer, somewhat advanced in years, rough in his manners, and profane and coarse in his language. But the captain was a fine-looking man, about thirty years old, rather dignified and reserved. His appearance spoke volumes in his favor, and the crew who joined the ship in New Orleans rejoiced in this opportunity of shipping in a fine vessel, with a whole-souled captain, and bound on a European voyage!

Before we reached the Gulf of Mexico, however, the men sang a different tune. They found the mate more arbitrary, unreasonable, and every way disagreeable, if possible, than he looked; and the captain evidently regarded a sailor as a piece of machinery to be wound up occasionally for the performance of certain duties, but without any human attributes. Whether a heart beat within a sailor's bosom, and his head was furnished with brains, Captain Mott knew not, neither did he care. The comfort or feelings of any one of the crew were never taken into account. If a man was sick and incapable of work, he was told, with an oath, to "bear a hand and get well, and not be skulking in the forecastle;" and when attending to his duties, he was regaled with stern looks and abusive language, and sent upon missions at

times, and under circumstances, which showed that Captain Mott thought a few sailors, more or less, in the world, were of no manner of consequence.

In former days every Yankee shipmaster was not a live, wide-awake, pushing, driving, web-footed Jehu, who disregarded fogs, was reckless of collisions with ships, fishing vessels, or icebergs, and cared little whether he strained the ship and damaged cargo, provided he made a short passage, as is the case in this enlightened age when "Young America" is in the ascendant. An "old fogy" was occasionally met with, who, being well paid for his services. by the month, prided himself more upon the strength of his ship's sailing than her rapidity. This appears from the following scene which once took place on board a Boston ship:

Captain Jarvis was lying in his berth, dreaming of a long passage and plenty of money at the end of it, when he was awakened by the unwonted noise of water under the counter, giving rise to the suspicion that the officer of the watch was carrying more sail than was expedient. He jumped out of his berth, rushed up the steps, popped his head out of the companion-way, and sharply exclaimed, "Mr. Popkins, heave the log."

Mr. Popkins. Ay, ay, sir!

Captain Jarvis. How fast does the old ship go, Mr. Popkins?

Mr. Popkins. Nine knots, sir!

Captain Jarvis. Nine knots! Julius Cæsar! I am astonished. Take in some of that canvas immediately, Mr. Popkins. I can't afford to sail so fast as nine knots. Mr. Popkins. Ay, ay, sir.

The studding sails were hauled in, and the main royal and fore and mizzen top-gallant sails furled.

Captain Jarvis. How fast does she go now, Mr. Popkins?

Mr. Popkins, (after heaving the log.) Seven knots and a half, sir!

Captain Jarvis. Too fast, sir-much too fast! Take in more sail. Why, Mr. Popkins, we shall be at the end of our voyage before we know it, at this rate.

Mr. Popkins, with the men of the larboard watch, went to work, and in a few minutes the ship was running along quietly under her three topsails, jib, and spanker.

Captain Jarvis. Throw the log, Mr. Popkins.
Mr. Popkins. She is now going six knots, sir.

Captain Jarvis. Six knots! Very well-very well indeed, Mr. Popkins. Always bear in mind that we are not paid by "the run," or the voyage; and six knots is very fair sailing between man and man. It is better to sail strong than to sail fast. Don't let me catch you running off at the rate of nine knots again. Stick to six and you will do, otherwise there will be no wages coming to us when we get home. Do you hear, Mr. Popkins?

Mr. Popkins, gruffly, (he had a sprinkling of Young America in his composition.) Ay, ay, sir!

Although Captain Mott was sometimes deficient in judgment, and on more than one occasion narrowly escaped losing overboard some of the crew, or wrecking the brig, he was, nevertheless, an excellent seaman, managed his vessel with skill, and navigated her with unusual correctness. Not being paid by the month but by primage on the freight, he was a veritable "driver," and lost no opportunity to urge his vessel ahead, even at the risk of starting a butt, springing a spar, or losing a man. Being always willing to work, on hand in any emergency, and never shrinking from danger, I was often a sufferer from his go-ahead instincts, as well as from his arbitrary mandates and unfeeling disposition. And were it not that there is

"A sweet little cherub which sits up aloft,

And looks out for the life of poor Jack,"