Night had now spread its sable mantle over the world of waters; the bright constellations were reflected in the deep; and the noble ship, with majestic and graceful motion, was cleaving a pathway for herself through the rapidly heaving billows. My thoughts, as my eyes wandered over the waste of waters, were busy with the past and present,—for the future I could only hope. But a few months had intervened since leaving Baltimore; and yet how much intense anxiety, actual suffering, and harrowing suspense, were crowded into that short space! One day on board a burning ship, with no hope of escape; then a port of safety in view; then{51} on board another ship, with every prospect of a speedy termination of our eventful voyage; then, again, assailed by fire, and obliged to seek safety in an open boat, far from land; and then transferred to a place of temporary safety,—for what could we expect but a recurrence of those awful scenes, while on board a coal-laden ship? “What,” thought I, “will be the end? Shall I ever be permitted to reach in safety the land of my birth?” I dared not entertain a hope seemingly so fallacious. As time progressed, I was often reminded, by painful contrast, of the fleeting happiness enjoyed on board the Humayoon. There a spirit of harmony and love seemed to pervade the whole ship’s company. The reverse of this at sea is disagreeable in the extreme; and the truth of this assertion was never more clearly demonstrated than on board the Symmetry. In lieu of heart-stirring songs and happy faces, gloomy frowns, and curses “not loud but deep,” met the ear at every turn; anarchy and discord went hand in hand. Daily I scanned the ocean in search of a sail, anticipating a happy change, yet dreading what I most desired; for had not experience taught me that whatever we most earnestly desire, when attained, often proves the source of the keenest misery? At the expiration{52} of thirteen days, the anxiously expected sail appeared. Mentally I prayed it might be an American; for with my own countrymen there exists a congruity of thought and feeling which renders their society more congenial. As she neared us, we perceived, to our great joy, that she was a large American ship. In answer to Captain Thompson’s signal, she hove to. He then sent a boat to ascertain if we could be transferred to her. She proved to be the Fanchon, of Newburyport, Captain Lunt, bound to San Francisco, laden with coal, which she took in at Baltimore. We became acquainted with Captain Lunt while at Baltimore. The Nonantum had sailed three weeks in advance of the Fanchon. The Nonantum had gone to her last resting-place; and here, on the broad Pacific, we met the Fanchon, in all her pristine architectural beauty, unharmed, and yet laden with Cumberland coal. Upon Capt. Lunt learning that we were on board the Symmetry, he came with all possible haste in his own boat to convey us to the Fanchon.