For the next three days we tumbled about in the subsiding waves, and experienced the most unpleasant part of a storm, which is not positively dangerous. The excitement and touch of romance pertaining to the gale have gone. The disagreeable motion, as the ship, not steadied by the force of the wind, is tossed to and fro on the waves, which the gale leaves to testify of its vehemence, causes much discomfort. Then we "reel to and fro and stagger like a drunken man and are at our wits end" how to maintain composure of mind, amidst so much bodily disquietude. At the commencement of the voyage, I took the first opportunity to call the officers together on the poop-deck, and privately instruct them in my ideas of discipline. This was the drift of my remarks: For some years past I have made it a rule that there shall be no cursing or blows used or given on board of my ship. In saying this, I do not mean that I wish sailors to be allowed to do as they like, or that I do not wish good discipline maintained. I have sometimes had to reprove officers for cursing the men and throwing belaying pins at them, and they seemed to feel that I had curtailed their rights. With a vindictive spirit, disguised by an air of injured innocence, they then neglected their duty and made no effort to keep the crew in proper order, saying, "If the old man doesn't care, I'm sure I don't." Let me tell you my plan of keeping discipline. When we start on a voyage the crew generally come on board more or less under the influence of liquor. Some of them are all ready for a fight and do their best to bring it on. If you choose to have a row, it is the easiest thing in the world to find opportunity for it, and you know how frequently the occasion is seized, and the ship's deck is stained with blood before she is clear of the land. Now at the start, I say, Shut your eyes and ears to instances of personal disrespect, and do not use force to exact the performance of duty, unless as a last resort when the interests of the ship positively require it. As soon as you can spare men from work, get into their bunks those who are so drunk as to be troublesome and let them sleep themselves sober. You will often, or indeed generally, find that these are the best "sailor men" in the ship. It was the rum that made the trouble, and I believe the only successful way of fighting rum is to attack it before it gets inside of men. Drunken men are more easily controlled than we think, but it requires tact to deal with them, and, above all, kindness. I had a sailor last voyage who was roaring about the deck, brimful of fight, using his insolence to gain a chance to work it off. I stepped up to him, and he straightened back to return the expected blow. To his evident surprise I just laid my hand upon his shoulder, and in a kind but decided tone said, "My man, you go to your bunk." He fired up, and said in a saucy way, "Do you mean to say I can't do my duty?" I