Daily, whilst here, some one or more of the crew of the James Allen would cut stick, and defy the most strenuous efforts of the authorities to recapture them. Finally the crew was reduced to but a moiety of her usual number. They were restricted to the day ashore, at night being required to return aboard their ship; those who violated this restriction were confined altogether to the vessel, and those allowed to go ashore were put by their captain under the surveillance of the police, and if found ashore at nightfall, were placed in the lock-up. Our captain, to secure us from molestation, furnished us with passes to the effect that, by his permission our liberty extended for twenty-four hours; but as our men behaved themselves in the most decorous manner, they were never interfered with; and I do not remember having heard of a single instance where they were required to show their passes. This passport system was a feature worthy of the worst despotism of the Old World. Here were we, a body of Americans, visiting an English harbor, after a long confinement aboard ship at sea, debarred from enjoying our rambles on shore with perfect freedom, and feeling ourselves liable at any moment to be stopped by the police, and have our passports demanded. And why? Forsooth, was this done, because several of the James Allen’s crew--disgusted either with whaling, the sea, or the harshness of the discipline aboard that ship--chose to remain ashore? To be sure, they had all signed the ship’s articles, and agreed to remain as part of her crew during the continuance of her voyage, and by leaving her here they violated the letter of their agreement; but when it is remembered, that the greater proportion of those now deserting, at the time of joining the vessel and registering their names, were minors--totally ignorant of what their duties and hardships might be--their offence appears to be merely venial. And, again, the captain is also bound by these articles and by the maritime laws of the United States; and, if he has observed those laws in letter and spirit, he will be entitled to sympathy, should his men desert him. But, unfortunately, as soon as a ship is outside of land, and away from the jurisdiction of our courts, the captain is too apt to consider himself as the law and all its officers. He is, emphatically, when on the high seas, himself the judge and jury; from his decision there is no appeal, and to his fiat the seamen under his command must submit. Now, should he be guilty of gross personal abuse, or otherwise injure any of his men, or by a system of petty annoyances, render a situation under him unpleasant and uncomfortable, who will say that the party so injured or offended may not withdraw from the ship? The captain, however, will not let him go. What, then, shall he do? Life is a burden to him whilst under the espionage of his tormentor. His remedy, the superficial observer at once would say, would be to throw himself and