The day of departure arrived, with a fair wind and plenty of it; the last boats came alongside at three o'clock in the morning, bringing the captain and officers, with their luggage, and the agent of the ship, with several other friends, who had come to "see us off" and return in the pilot-boat; and who, of course, burst into enthusiastic praises of the new ship, and the arrangement of all on board, protesting that it _almost_ made them wish they were going themselves. The windlass was soon after manned; the topsails loosed (not exactly in man-of-war style, with a simultaneous fall), green hands were hurried here and there, ropes pointed out to them and put into their hands; the anchors slowly but steadily rose to the bows; and, by sunrise, the gallant Arethusa, feeling the impulse of the fresh breeze, was fairly underway, and her course shaped to clear Great Point. I had anticipated another course of martyrdom from sea-sickness; but I soon found that the gallant Lydia Ann had broken me in completely, and I was destined to suffer no more from that intolerable malady. It was a great relief to feel that my stomach had gained the victory in the conflict with old Neptune's medicine chest. There was something exhilarating in the sensation of feeling the lively ship springing under my feet, and driving onward under the impulse of her distended wings; in looking back at the low, receding island, the cradle whence had issued so many stout hearts and strong arms to vex every sea with their fisheries, and feeling that I, too, was now embarking in this adventurous and romantic business; and in observing how Captain Upton, with his mate and the owner, grouped together on the quarterdeck, watched the behavior and movements of the new vessel, from time to time commenting, as they found occasion for so doing, and comparing her qualities and merits with those of other time-worn and well-tried ships. I myself began to feel a little of that pride in my floating home springing up within me, which every seaman feels for his vessel. Then, as I looked again astern, at the dim outline of Nantucket, fast sinking towards the horizon, my thoughts reverted to my pleasant country home, to my parents and my much loved sister left there, and a prayer went up--yes, a prayer; a silent one, but none the less sincere. A glance of the captain's eye aloft; a word, "Port!" to Old Jeff at the wheel; another word in an under tone to the mate; and then the loud order, "Square in the yards!" chased away these gentle thoughts, and recalled my mind to the voyage before me.