Friday, July 1st. We were now nearly up to the latitude of Cape
Horn, and having over forty degrees of easting to make, we squared
away the yards before a strong westerly gale, shook a reef out of
the fore-topsail, and stood on our way, east-by-south, with the
prospect of being up with the Cape in a week or ten days. As for
myself, I had had no sleep for forty-eight hours; and the want of
rest, together with constant wet and cold, had increased the swelling,
so that my face was nearly as large as two, and I found it
impossible to get my mouth open wide enough to eat. In this state, the
steward applied to the captain for some rice to boil for me, but he
only got only got a- "No! d-- you! Tell him to eat salt junk and hard
bread, like the rest of them." For this, of course, I was much obliged
to him, and in truth it was just what I expected. However, I did not
starve, for the mate, who was a man as well as a sailor, and had
always been a good friend to me, smuggled a pan of rice into the
galley, and told the cook to boil it for me, and not let the "old man"
see it. Had it been fine weather, or in port, I should have gone below
and lain by until my face got well; but in such weather as this, and
short-handed as we were, it was not for me to desert my post; so I
kept on deck, and stood my watch and did my duty as well as I could.
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