After the day's work was done, we went down into the forecastle, and
ate our plain supper; but not a word was spoken. It was Saturday
night; but there was no song- no "sweethearts and wives." A gloom was
over everything. The two men lay in their berths, groaning with
pain, and we all turned in, but for myself, not to sleep. A sound
coming now and then from the berths of the two men showed that they
were awake, as awake they must have been, for they could hardly lie in
one posture a moment; the dim, swinging lamp of the forecastle shed
its light over the dark hole in which we lived; and many and various
reflections and purposes coursed through my mind. I thought of our
situation, living under a tyranny; of the character of the country
we were in; of the length of the voyage, and of the uncertainty
attending our return to America; and then, if we should return, of the
prospect of obtaining justice and satisfaction for these poor men; and
vowed that if God should ever give me the means, I would do
something to redress the grievances and relieve the sufferings of that
poor class of beings, of whom I then was one.
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