towed back to Queenstown, the nearest port. The
passengers, relieved of their anxieties, went from
their extreme of fear to an equal extreme of drunken
celebration. They laughed, sang, and danced, but
when we reached the shore many of them returned
to the homes they had left, declaring that they had
had enough of the ocean. We, however, remained
on the ship until she was repaired, and then sailed
on her again. We were too poor to return home;
indeed, we had no home to which we could return.
We were even too poor to live ashore. But we made
some penny excursions in the little boats that plied
back and forth, and to us children at least the weeks
of waiting were not without interest. Among other
places we visited Spike Island, where the convicts
were, and for hours we watched the dreary shuttle
of labor swing back and forth as the convicts car-
ried pails of water from one side of the island, only
to empty them into the sea at the other side. It
was merely ``busy work,'' to keep them occupied
at hard labor; but even then I must have felt some
dim sense of the irony of it, for I have remembered
it vividly all these years.

Our second voyage on the John Jacob Westervelt
was a very different experience from the first. By
day a glorious sun shone overhead; by night we had
the moon and stars, as well as the racing waves we
never wearied of watching. For some reason, prob-
ably because of my intense admiration for them,