Such, we may well suppose, would have been his desire;
but the period when he set forth to procure service upon the seas,
may not have been auspicious. He may have reached the seaport
a moment too soon or too late, and the opportunities of this kind
were necessarily infrequent in a small and frontier city, whose commerce
lay mostly in the hands of strangers. His small size and puny appearance
must have operated very much against his hopes of obtaining employment
in a service which particularly calls for manhood and muscle.
In what capacity, or in what sort of vessel he obtained a berth,
we are left wholly to conjecture. Choosing the sea as a vocation,
and laudably resolved on acquiring a proper knowledge of his business
(as from what we know of his character, we may suppose was the case),
he most probably went before the mast. His first and only voyage
was unfortunate. The ship in which he sailed was no doubt
equally frail and small. She foundered at sea, whether going or returning
is not said; in consequence, we are told, of injuries received from
the stroke of a whale, of the thornback species. So suddenly did she sink,
that her crew, only six in number, had barely time to save themselves.
They escaped to the jolly boat, saving nothing but their lives.
They took with them neither water nor provisions; and for six days,
hopeless of succor, they lay tossing to and fro, upon the bald
and cheerless ocean. A dog, which swam to them from the sinking vessel,
was sacrificed to their hunger. His raw flesh was their only food,
his blood their only drink, during this distressing period.
Two of their number perished miserably.* The survivors, on the seventh day,
were found and taken up by a passing vessel, nourished carefully
and finally restored to their homes.

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* Weems represents the captain and mate, as throwing themselves overboard