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SEPTEMBER 28th.—John Silas Huntly, the captain of the
“Chancellor,” has the reputation of being an experienced navigator
of the Atlantic. He is a Scotchman, a native of Dundee, and is about fifty
years of age. He is of middle height and slight build, and has a small head,
which he has a habit of holding a little over his left shoulder. I do not
pretend to be much of a physiognomist, but I am inclined to believe that my few
hours’ acquaintance with our captain has given me considerable insight
into his character. That he is a good seaman and thoroughly understands his
duties I could not for a moment venture to deny; but that he is a man of
resolute temperament, or that he possesses the amount of courage that would
render him, physically or morally, capable of coping with any great emergency,
I confess I cannot believe. I observe a certain heaviness and dejection about
his whole carriage. His wavering glances, the listless motions of his hands,
and his slow, unsteady gait, all seem to me to indicate a weak and sluggish
disposition. He does not appear as though he could be energetic enough ever to
be stubborn; he never frowns, sets his teeth, or clenches his fist. There is
something enigmatical about him; however, I shall study him closely and do what
I can to understand the man who, as commander of a vessel, should be to those
around him “second only to God.”
Unless I am greatly mistaken there is another man on board who, if
circumstances should require it, would take the more prominent position—I
mean the mate. I have hitherto, however, had such little opportunity of
observing his character, that I must defer saying more about him at present.
Besides the captain and this mate, whose name is Robert Curtis, our crew
consists of Walter, the lieutenant, the boatswain, and fourteen sailors, all
English or Scotch, making eighteen altogether, a number quite sufficient for
working a vessel of 900 tons burden. Up to this time my sole experience of
their capabilities is, that under the command of the mate, they brought us
skilfully enough through the narrow channels of Charleston; and I have no
reason to doubt but that they are well up to their work.
My list of the ship’s officials is incomplete unless I mention
Hobart, the steward, and Jynxstrop, the negro cook.
In addition to these, the “Chancellor” carries eight
passengers, including myself. Hitherto, the bustle of embarkation, the
arrangement of cabins, and all the variety of preparations inseparable from
starting on a voyage for at least twenty or five-and-twenty days have precluded
the formation of any acquaintanceships; but the monotony of the voyage, the
close proximity into which we must be thrown, and the natural curiosity to know
something of each other’s affairs, will doubtless lead us in due time to
an interchange of ideas. Two days have elapsed and I have not even seen all the
passengers. Probably sea- sickness has prevented some of them from making their
appearance at the common table. One thing, however, I do know; namely, that
there are two ladies occupying the stern-cabins, the windows of which are in
the aft-board of the vessel.
I have seen the ship’s list and subjoin a list of the passengers.
They are as follow:— Mr. and Mrs. Kear, Americans, of Buffalo. Miss
Herbey, a young English lady, companion to Mrs. Kear. M. Letourneur and his son
Andre, Frenchmen, of Havre. William Falsten, a Manchester engineer. John Ruby,
a Cardiff merchant; and myself, J. R. Kazallon, of London.
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