sentimentalism about the suppression of the horrors of the Middle
Passage, and something was sometimes done that way. We were in the South
Atlantic on that business. From the time I joined, I believe I thought
Nolan was a sort of lay chaplain--a chaplain with a blue coat. I never
asked about him. Everything in the ship was strange to me. I knew it was
green to ask questions, and I suppose I thought there was a
"Plain-Buttons" on every ship. We had him to dine in our mess once a
week, and the caution was given that on that day nothing was to be said
about home. But if they had told us not to say anything about the planet
Mars or the Book of Deuteronomy, I should not have asked why; there
were, a great many things which seemed to me to have as little reason. I
first came to understand anything about "the man without a country" one
day when we overhauled a dirty little schooner which had slaves on
board. An officer was sent to take charge of her, and, after a few
minutes, he sent back his boat to ask that some one might be sent him
who could speak Portuguese. We were all looking over the rail when the
message came, and we all wished we could interpret, when the captain
asked who spoke Portuguese. But none of the officers did; and just as
the captain was sending forward to ask if any of the people could, Nolan
stepped out and said he should be glad to interpret, if the captain
wished, as he understood the language. The captain thanked him, fitted
out another boat with him, and in this boat it was my luck to go.

When we got there, it was such a scene as you seldom see, and never want
to. Nastiness beyond account, and chaos run loose in the midst of the
nastiness. There were not a great many of the negroes; but by way of
making what there were understand that they were free, Vaughan had had
their hand-cuffs and ankle-cuffs knocked off, and, for convenience'
sake, was putting them upon the rascals of the schooner's crew. The
negroes were, most of them, out of the hold, and swarming all round the