Thinking it possible we may meet some homeward bound English or American Indiaman at Anjer, where we hope to arrive in course of a week, I take occasion to assure [you] of our safety, for which I hope I am truly thankful to God who has preserved us through a long & perilous voyage. (It grieves me very much to tell you it has likewise been in many respects a disagreeable & unpleasant one, for I know [how] much it will pain you.)

We have not seen land since we left New York nor seen a human face out of our “floating (workhouse) castle” [. . .]. Our barque was so loaded & crammed with freight that room for men [and] their effects—necessities of life, food, water, etc.—was scarce to be found. You will recollect remarking how our deck was lumbered up when we left. This has furnished us with a great deal of hard work, & in fact the loading her so deep & heavily has nearly proved our destruction altogether. Again, for want of room she was not certain (say) so well provisioned as she might or I suppose otherwise would be. [For] instance, we were out of potatoes & all fresh fruit & put on an allowance of water the first month.

For nearly a month I suffered exceedingly from sea sickness—during all which time my chest in which was [Dr. Taft’s remedy]—was stored where it could not be opened. The officers during this time were particularly kind & forbearing to me. In gratitude, I resolved as soon as I did get out, that whatever might after happen I would not growl at them, and I believe I have kept it. I determined to be as contented as possible & although I think I have suffered as much or more than anyone, I do think I am as & have generally been happier than anyone else of the crew. But a more discontented, grumbling, growling set of mortals than our men are, you can not imagine.

During my sickness I “bunked in” with Jim. What I should have done without him & Dr. Green I don’t know. Dr. G. attended me with great care. I shall never forget the kindness I have experienced from him during the whole voyage, & I cannot be too grateful to him for continued favors. Left by seasickness so weak I could hardly stand, I was not able, had they wished, to do active duty aloft for some time. I was set to work filing rust, etc. from tools & such jobs which gave so much satisfaction that I was appointed Armourer & had the muskets, blunderbusses, pistols, cutlasses, etc. which were in horrible condition, to clean & burnish. This employed me a long time. And we were in the latitude of Cape of Good Hope cold weather early in June, but we had thousands of miles of casting yet to make before we could double it, through the most boisterous seas. And now we began to experience the beautiful qualities of our wash tub. She is loaded so deep that most every sea washes over her. From that time to this we have not had a dry deck.

On fourth July we were reefing topsails off “Cape of Good Hope.” (“Off” some way to be sure for we were driven to near 40° South.) A few days after, we were shortening sail. I had furled the royal in the a.m. In the p.m. Jacob (Braisted) was slapped off the lee fore-topgallant yard. (I was on lee main-topgallant.) Most providentially he fell between the sail (outside) & the foretack. If he had wetted he would [have] been lost. (No stop). Much to our surprise he has almost entirely recovered. The same night, we had the heaviest squall the captain or mate ever knew. The double reefed main-topsail was split to ribbons before we could close reef it, & the ship so nearly overwhelmed that they (officers) say if it had lasted with the same strength [142] five minutes she would never have come up. We were scudding under bare poles the rest of the gale.

From that time to this we had a succession of gales, being under reefed topsails half the time. Allowance of water was three times shortened: the last off [the] Cape, to three quarts including water for cooking—coffee often each one quart, dinner often another quart, so we have to go without it often.

You cannot think how busy we have been since I wrote above. Having [an] unexpected good run, we have not had time to prepare for port. All hands—most of the time getting up anchors &c. guns, gun gear, &c, &c., and continual shifting sails. Oh dear, I shouldn’t think it possible to work so as I have.

About a month since, I had a stroke of Paralysis in my right arm, which for a time rendered it useless, but I have now recovered it sufficiently to go on duty again. Still, it [is] extremely weak & if it don’t ache now! (dinner time.) The thumb & finger are yet numb, but not so much as they were.

It is so hot here, dead calm & a burning sun.

We have had two or three on the sick list ever since we left.

All old Indiamen on board say this has been the worst voyage (for weather) they ever knew. One of our able seamen proved entirely incompetent & has hardly done any duty since we left. As we had but two others & [are] otherwise half manned, judge you. That man will probably be invalided & sent home. If I [have] another stroke I shall expect the same—but don’t anticipate it.

(I have told Dr. Green that it would be a great gratification to you to hear from him—& I hope he will add a few lines here.)

Well now—to the great business of this letter—but I cannot. Words I cannot find to express the love, [. . .] love,—what can I say—that accompany this. But I rejoice to think that no one can conceive it, can know it better than all those dearest friends whom if it were possible I should mention. Brothers, sisters, you know what I would say to you. Aunt Maria & Cousin Fanny & you. Don’t you, Mary, Bertha, Ada? And if Master Albert don’t I hope he will. No! No! None of you can conceive how ties of love are strengthened by distance.

Dear Jack; But brother I can’t write to you now. I must. We hope to arrive at Hong Kong in about six weeks or so. Captain appears to think we shall be on the coast (Am.) in winter, but we think he can’t do it. You shall hear from [me] again more at length by the first opportunity.