Dana entered Harvard in 1832, but being troubled with an
     affection of the eyes, shipped as a common sailor on board an
     American merchant vessel, and made a voyage round Cape Horn to
     California and back.  His experiences are embodied in his “Two
     Years Before the Mast,” which was published in 1840, about
     three years after his return, when he had graduated at
     Harvard, and in the year in which he was admitted to the
     Massachusetts Bar.  His best known work gives a vivid account
     of life at sea in the days of the old sailing ships, touches
     sympathetically on the hardships of the seafaring life, which
     its publication helped to ameliorate, and affords also an
     intimate glimpse of California when it was still a province of
     Mexico.  “If,” he writes, “California ever becomes a prosperous
     country, this—­San Francisco—­bay will be the centre of its
     prosperity.”  He died at Rome on January 7, 1882.

I.—­Life on a Merchantman

On August 14 the brig Pilgrim left Boston for a voyage round Cape Horn to the western coast of America.  I made my appearance on board at twelve o’clock with an outfit for a two or three years’ voyage, which I had undertaken from a determination to cure, if possible, by an entire change of life, and by a long absence from books and study, a weakness of the eyes.

The vessel got under way early in the afternoon.  I joined the crew, and we hauled out into the stream, and came to anchor for the night.  The next day we were employed in preparations for sea.  On the following night I stood my first watch.  During the first few days we had bad weather, and I began to feel the discomforts of a sailor’s life.  But I knew that if I showed any sign of want of spirit or of backwardness, I should be ruined at once.  So I performed my duties to the best of my ability, and after a time I felt somewhat of a man.  I cannot describe the change which half a pound of cold salt beef and a biscuit or two produced in me after having taken no sustenance for three days.  I was a new being.

As we had now a long “spell” of fine weather, without any incident to break the monotony of our lives, there can be no better place to describe the duties, regulations, and customs of an American merchantman, of which ours was a fair specimen.

The captain is lord paramount.  He stands no watch, comes and goes when he pleases, is accountable to no one, and must be obeyed in everything.

The prime minister, the official organ, and the active and superintending officer is the chief mate.  The mate also keeps the log-book, and has charge of the stowage, safe keeping, and delivery of the cargo.

The second mate’s is a dog’s berth.  The men do not respect him as an officer, and he is obliged to go aloft to put his hands into the tar and slush with the rest.  The crew call him the “sailors’ waiter,” and he has to furnish them with all the stuffs they need in their work.  His wages are usually double those of a common sailor, and he eats and sleeps in the cabin; but he is obliged to be on deck nearly all his time, and eats at the second table—­that is, makes a meal out of what the captain and the chief mate leave.