The fact was, the ship was found to be leaking badly, and the hold already contained about four-and-a-half feet of water! One of the mates informed me of this. I had requested him to be frank with me, and to let me know the full extent of any danger; stating, that if it became necessary for us to die, I would do my share of it with as good a grace as possible under the circumstances. The crew of a vessel is divided into two watches—one called the Starboard, and the other the Port. The port watch is commanded by the first mate, and the starboard by the second. [The port side of a ship is the left-hand side, the starboard the right.] While the starboard watch worked most energetically at the pumps, the port watch went aft with the captain and first mate, and proceeded to heave cargo overboard. All that was cared for now was to save our lives, and to do that, the ship must be kept afloat. What cared we now for stores of wealth! The wealth of the whole world would not have been more highly regarded than an old rusty nail! What cared I for my trunk, my clothes, my books, money, papers, manuscripts, and little valuable and favorite trinkets! I could have seen them all, and a million times more, swept overboard into the dashing sea, without giving them another thought. How faithfully those sailors worked! both at the pumps, and at the after-hatch, where the valuable cargo was being dashed from the ship, as though a sacrifice to appease the wrath of the billows! How quickly and submissively they sprung to execute every slight command! There was no tardiness now. They were working for dear life, and it was only necessary for them to know _what_ to do. The commands of the officers were merely instructions. There was no cursing the sailors by the officers. [As for the captain, _he_ seldom swore at the sailors; but the mates could do so, in mild weather, with a skill that no reasonable person could impeach.] There was no longer any distinction between officers and men. All appeared equal. All labored for a common end. Death, which lays every one low, with an impartial hand, was apparently near us, and we were comrades now. Kings and emperors, had they been aboard that seemingly doomed ship, must have felt that they were only men! I remained at the cabin door, most of the time, watching, at times—as the receding sea would allow me to open the door a little way—the second mate, Mr. Gorham, and his watch, working at the pumps, and the phosphorescent sparks chasing each other over the deck and out at the ports and scuppers. I could also see long lines of gleaming phosphorus on the crests of the waves far out upon the dreadful sea. The steward, who had been helping at the pumps, made his way into the cabin for some purpose, and said to me, “Passenger, don’t you think we’re gone?” His voice indicated that he had already abandoned all hope. “Things look rather gloomy,” I replied.