A large American ship arrived in harbour from China with a load of coolies for the Cuban plantations. The captain was sick, so he made arrangements with Captain Turner to take his vessel, the Messenger, to New York. Our mate was to take the schooner to Boston, with a cargo of sugar and molasses. We took our cargo on board, boxes of sugar in the hold and hogsheads of molasses for a deck load. I was now going home in earnest. I purchased a lot of guava jelly and tropical preserves, besides a number of presents for my relatives. I wrote to my mother, in New York, telling her of my intentions, giving her the name of the schooner and its port of destination. The fourth day of July, 1860, early in the morning, we sailed out past Morro Castle. Our voyage to Boston had begun. I felt happy with the prospect of soon being back home. We had a very easy time on the schooner, there being nothing to do except to take our turns at steering. On a full-rigged ship it would have been different, as it is invariably the practice to keep the crew continually at work most of the time, most usually aloft, repairing the rigging. We had passed the most dangerous part of our trip, through the Florida Keys; the wind was "wing and wing"--that is, the foresail was out on one side and the main-sail on the other. A good strong breeze was driving us north at a rapid rate. That night it was my turn at the wheel from ten to twelve o'clock. It being cloudy, no stars were visible. For that reason it was more difficult to steer straight. By selecting a bright star ahead when the vessel is on the right course, it is easier to see which way the wheel is to be turned. Steering by compass alone, the vessel either "goes off" or "comes up" considerably before the compass shows it. The main boom was out to starboard the full length of the sheet. A pennant--heavy rope--from the end of the boom was hooked to a tackle and fastened forward in order to prevent the boom from swinging back. I had been at the wheel about an hour, and was watching the compass carefully. Suddenly the light in the binnacle went out. Then I had neither stars nor compass to steer by. As we were going dead before the wind, I tried to keep the old schooner straight, but it was useless. In a few minutes she yawed to starboard, and the main-sail was taken aback. All the strain of that big sail was then on the boom pennant and tackle leading forward. Before anything could be done to relieve us from our dilemma there was a sharp snap forward. The belaying-pin which held the tackle had broken, the boom flew over to the other side, and the sheet tautened out like a bow-string. It took hardly a second for the sail to jibe over.