Chapter Three--On Board the Typhoon


I do not remember much about the voyage to Boston, for after the first
few hours at sea I was dreadfully unwell.

The name of our ship was the "A No. 1, fast-sailing packet Typhoon."
I learned afterwards that she sailed fast only in the newspaper
advertisements. My father owned one quarter of the Typhoon, and that is
why we happened to go in her. I tried to guess which quarter of the ship
he owned, and finally concluded it must be the hind quarter--the cabin,
in which we had the cosiest of state-rooms, with one round window in the
roof, and two shelves or boxes nailed up against the wall to sleep in.

There was a good deal of confusion on deck while we were getting under
way. The captain shouted orders (to which nobody seemed to pay any
attention) through a battered tin trumpet, and grew so red in the face
that he reminded me of a scooped-out pumpkin with a lighted candle
inside. He swore right and left at the sailors without the slightest
regard for their feelings. They didn't mind it a bit, however, but went
on singing--

"Heave ho!
With the rum below,
And hurrah for the Spanish Main O!"