The Valparaiso arrived week before last, at Macao; two days after her, the Ann MeKim, in the remarkably short passage of one hundred and one days from New York. One day passed, and another, and another. No news from home! How disappointed we were. No communication was allowed with her, from commercial considerations, I presume. This gave us a little hope, however, & on the twenty-first, a “sampan” brought some parcels on board. Among them was that dear one from you. How-how rejoiced I was: All Well, Thank God.

[154]

I wrote you last from Anjer (Island of Java) dated 10th of August. We left there the following evening and arrived at Hong Kong on the 2nd instant. We had a most excellent run through the Straits & Java Sea. There are some ships here which were three weeks or more. (They, however, took the Bangka passage). We passed the island of Gaspar the fourth night from Anjer—at midnight—without having once anchored or seen a pirate, though constantly prepared and expecting both. Coming up the China Sea we had a harder time; shortening or making sail hourly. The last week we were mostly becalmed, with an occasional light breeze or heavy squall. We saw several water-spouts, but happily arrived three days too late for a typhoon, which was experienced at Hong Kong on the twenty-sixth ultimo. We were three days in sight of Hong Kong, or of the islands of which it is one, without wind enough to reach it (27 miles). We found the place very unhealthy—the “red coats” (as a sailor told me) “dying off like rotten sheep, not like men at all.” “Young Morrison” had died just before, universally lamented.

There were about forty vessels at anchor in the port: no Americans, four English men-of-war. Finding no market for our “notions,” we remained only four days & two days after arrived here. Here there are some sixty sail, mostly English country ships. The Americans are the Talbot, Panama, Mary Chilton, John G. Coster, Philadelphia brig, Wissahicken (wicked chicken) and now the Ann McKim & Ronaldson. We have just learned (as a secret) that the “Mary Chilton” has a cargo already to be “shov’d aboard” of her & will go off for New York in a few days. I am just now under the doctor’s hands, sick—not seriously-but sufficiently so to make writing a burthen, particularly with the “rayther limited accomodations I —— enjoy.” The Panama, we are informed, will take a cargo of old teas, too, & sail in course of two weeks. If so, you may expect to hear from me again by her. We have no news of the East India Squadron.

I have tried with all my heart to think well of the bark in which my lot is cast, to believe that those evils which we have felt—& which have produced so much ill feeling in others, in all my shipmates—were the result of accident, negligence & necessity. I have endeavoured to think that it was from the nature and habit of the men & that in other ships I should find as much grumbling—if not from the same, from similar grievances. In this I succeeded pretty well, and as I wrote you from Anjer, there was not so contented a person on board. Since our arrival, however, I am convinced of necessity that our men not only are more discontented, but have much more cause for complaint than the crews of other vessels here, our neighbors. We are worked much longer, if not harder, & have many less privileges than are customarily allowed.

I find, however, all hands expect a much pleasanter time when we are homeward bound (for such reasons as you will find in Dana’s Two Years), & I hope, if I do not forget past experience of trouble, I shall at [155]

[156] least have written brighter pages to read to you & have pleasanter yarns to spin for the girls to knit by.

I know you expect a more particular account of our voyage than I am now able to give you, & I am much relieved & very glad to find by your letter that you have in some measure anticipated my difficulties & do not expect a regular pen & ink Diary, which if you had once seen my accommodations, quarters & facilities (or difacilities—difficulties (?)) you would immediately perceive the impracticability of attempting. I only wonder the idea I had of writing could have ever entered my head. I did, to be sure, once or twice “take up my pen” after my recovery from seasickness, but after a few accidents (which, if not amusing, were at least so considered by my messmates) I was obliged to give it up. However, I have, as I rejoice to find suggested in your letter, “contrived to use the pencil” quite freely, under [the] circumstances, & have tolerably copious notes of nearly the whole voyage—often scratched off in the time devoted by others to rest.

I read your remark recommending me to “take every opportunity of going ashore” & “informing myself, &c.” which caused great amusement to my shipmates. My opportunities of observation & investigation are very similar to those enjoyed by Mr. Pickwick while a resident in his Majesty’s Fleet Prison. I have not yet left the ship since we have been here. I am obtaining a good deal of entertaining information in regard to the customs, laws & habits of this most singular people from our attendant “Eyee” (Sanpan boat man; ship’s waiter) an interesting and well-informed young man. Of course, I have had no opportunities of meeting Dr. Parker or of presenting my letters. Remember me with the sincerest assurances of respect to Dr. Hawes & Reverend Mr. Gallaudet, to whom I am under great obligations for the letters with which they honoured me. Also to Cousin Charles, Mr. Ayres, Mr. Monds, Dr. Comstock, Mr. Turner, Mr. Terry & other members of the Society. My great regret at not going ashore is that I can not obtain information & specimens, but I hope yet to do something. The only specimen I now have is of a White “Bittern” (as I take it) which, probably driven off by a storm, took refuge in our bowsprit & was captured in the China Sea. The only shells I have seen here, my dear Mr. Monds, are some “cowries” we brought from Anjer.

My personal health since we were at Anjer has improved, I think. My arm & hand have entirely recovered. This place is represented as very unhealthy, but we see no reason for it (the representation I mean). We are moored between a graveyard & an extensive paddy field. Eleven of us in the fo’c’stle (we being turned out of our room) nearly devoured by mosquitoes. We have got a great deal of work to do before we leave, which will not be before—December! So we come on the coast in summer. No one knows, however, when we are to leave.

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Our ship is attended by a physician who comes on board every day. There is a hospital ship in the fleet. Several Captains have died, but few men.

I have written off a short sketch of a few days after I left that you may compare. You must have been disappointed very much at not seeing us reported. I have noticed, I believe, all the ships we saw on the other side of Anjer.

If any tolerably decent berth at Canton should offer, I might take it for I am “ship sick,” as you may imagine.

Dr. Green has a prospect of associating himself with Dr. Parker at Canton.

Mrs. Gutzlaff has gone to Chusan to find her husband, who I hope will see her better treated than Captain Fox did. She is a very disagreeable, notional old granny. I hope I shall get many more such agreeable epistles as that from the dear girls. I shall endeavour to answer it particularly, as well as John’s, by the next opportunity.