On the 6th of September, 1810, all hands—twenty-two belonging to the ship, and thirty-three passengers—being on board, the _Tonquin_ set sail, and a fresh breeze springing up, soon wafted her to a distance from the busy shores of New York. We had not proceeded far, when we were joined by the American frigate _Constitution_, which was to escort us clear of the coast. On the 7th, in the afternoon, we passed Sandy Hook lighthouse, and the next day the _Constitution_ returned, we dismissed our pilot, and were soon out of sight of land, steering a S.E. course. {14} So far all was bustle and confusion upon deck, and every place in the ship was in such topsy-turvy state, with what sailors call live and dead lumber, that scarcely any one knew how or where he was to be stowed; and it was in settling this knotty point that the crusty supremacy of the high-minded captain was first touched. Captain Jonathan Thorn had been brought up in the American navy, had signalized himself, and upon the present occasion he stood upon his own quarter-deck. Matters went on well enough till we came to the mechanics: these young men had been selected from the most respectable of their class, had been promised by their employers situations as clerks in the trade whenever vacancies should occur, and in consequence, serving in the twofold capacity of clerks and tradesmen, they were entitled, by their engagements, whilst on board ship to the same treatment as the other clerks; but behold when the captain came to assign them their place, it was not in either the second or the third cabin, no, nor in the steerage, but before the mast among the common sailors. In vain did they remonstrate, and equally vain was it for them to produce copies of their engagements; right or wrong, forward they must go; but that was not all; to the grievance of bad accommodations was added that of an insult to their feelings, by being compelled, as a further punishment for their obstinacy, to perform the duties of common seamen both by day and night. After this bit of a row with the captain, they applied for {15} redress to the partners on board, the very persons with whom they had executed their agreements. The partners interposed, and in their turn remonstrated with the captain, but without effect; he remained inexorable. Both parties then getting into a violent passion, Mr. M‘Kay said, “That his people would defend themselves rather than suffer such treatment.” On hearing this, the captain, suddenly turning round on his heel, defied Mr. M‘Kay and his people, adding, “that he would blow out the brains of the first man who dared to disobey his orders on board his own ship.” In the midst of this scene, Mr. David Stuart, a good old soul, stept up, and by his gentle and timely interference put an end to the threatening altercation.