mind, so they parted with feelings of mutual cordiality.  Some years had elapsed, when the young commander landed in a port in Denmark.  A gentleman whom he knew told him a sad story of an English captain who had just died in the hospital under distressing circumstances.  His illness had been brought on by his own excesses, complications set in, and after a few days’ illness, he passed, through the valley of the shadow of death into Eternity.  His bodily sufferings had been great, and his lonely desolation caused him unspeakable anguish.  Death relieved him of both, and he was put to rest in a plain deal coffin.  The vessels in port hoisted their flags half-mast, and a few seamen followed his remains to the tomb.  The following day his old apprentice, whom he had driven from his presence thirteen years before, had two weeping willows planted at each end of the grave to mark the spot where his erring master rests; and he has visited it many times since.

CHAPTER IV

THE SEAMAN’S SUPERSTITIONS

The seamen of the fifties and sixties were grievously superstitious.  They viewed sailing on a Friday with undisguised displeasure; and attributed many of their disasters when on a voyage to this unholy act.  I have known men leave their vessel rather than sail on a Friday.  The owner of a vessel who did not regard this as a part of the orthodox faith was voted outside the pale of compassion.  Then it was a great breach of nautical morals to whistle when the wind was howling, and singing in such circumstances was promptly prohibited.  If perchance bad weather was encountered immediately after leaving port, and it was continuous, the forecastle became the centre of righteous discussion and intrigue, in order that the reason for this might be arrived at, and due punishment inflicted on the culprit who was found to be the cause of all their sorrows.  They would look upon gales and mishaps, no matter how unimportant, as tokens of Divine wrath sent as a punishment for the sin of some one of them not having, for example, paid a debt of honour before sailing.  The guilty person or persons were soon identified, even if they attempted to join in the secret investigation, and the penalty of being ostracised was rigidly enforced.  It was a hard fate, which sometimes continued the whole voyage, especially if no redeeming features presented themselves.  The sailor’s calling makes superstition a part of his nature.  The weird moaning of the wind suggests to him at times saintly messages from afar; and he is easily lost in reverie.  He holds sweet converse with souls that have long since passed into another sphere, but the hallucinary charm causes him to fix his faith in the belief that they are hovering about him, so that he may convey to them some message to transmit to those friends or relatives who are the objects of his devout veneration.  Yet he ceases to be a sentimentalist when duty calls