The Life and Letters of the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A.: Rector of Thornhill, in the Diocese of Toronto, Canada WestArmstrong, John
Religion
The Life and Letters of the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A.: Rector of Thornhill, in the Diocese of Toronto, Canada West
Armstrong, John
Mortimer, George, 1784-1844
JUNE 12th, Tuesday, 9 o’clock. Driven from the cabin by disposition to
sickness, I write on deck on one of the hen coops. Last night all of us
fell giddy and beginning to be squeamish—took the brandy in sips and all
were immediately relieved.—Herbert also lost his head-ach. Our nightly
abode was, I confess, an uninviting concern. When I lay down I seemed as
though I should be suffocated and was obliged to rise up in haste, but
soon got reconciled, and managed, at last, to get off and slept pretty
well till five. The wind has been favourable ever since we sailed, the
captain in good spirits, nothing could be better. At nine, yesterday
evening, we cast anchor; the captain, in consequence of the haziness of
the weather, being afraid of proceeding, lest, not being in open sea, he
should run foul of land; we resumed operations, however, between two and
three. The ship remaining stationary was the cause of the close and
confined sensations which we had on getting into our berths at night; for
when the vessel is in motion there is no want of fresh air and no feeling
of oppression. I am again, my dearest Mary, on deck. I have just been
humming over three or four times my favourite verse,
“O may I ne’er forget,
The goodness of the Lord;
Nor ever want a tongue to spread,
His loudest praise abroad.”
Ah! we called upon him in our trouble, and he hath delivered us out of
our distress: we could, therefore, “praise the Lord for his goodness and
for his wonderful works which he showeth to the children of men.” I had
scarcely finished writing the contents of the first side of my sheet,
when the wind began to veer round, and blowing from the west with great
violence, the ship heaved and rolled to such a degree, that the whole of
the passengers, without exception, were taken so suddenly and so
distressingly ill, that they were obliged to dash, as quickly as
possible, to their beds—no time for undressing, and none, of course, for
arranging our little alleviations and preventives against sickness. Our
party were all differently affected, but all suffered much for about
twelve hours. Arthur was quite unconscious of what he did—Cecil
occasionally incoherent—Herbert very quiet, but at times greatly
suffering. Indeed, I had serious thoughts, whether we should ever
recover; but I lay musing, and praying, and casting the weight of my
oppressed spirits on my covenant God in Christ Jesus, and soon had a most
blessed state of peace.
Sunday, June 17, 12 noon. We have just had service on deck—an
interesting scene, and seemingly not unacceptable to the auditors, who,
in pleasing and attentive groups, were lying, or rather sitting, round
me. We had three or four good singers. Hymn,
“God moves in a mysterious way.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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