then, for the first time, as a common Jack.

This was a very short time before war was declared, and a large flotilla
of gun-boats was getting ready for the New York station. Bill was put on
board of No. 112, and I was ordered to No. 107, Sailing-Master Costigan.
Soon after, we were all employed in fitting the Essex for sea; and while
thus occupied the Declaration of War actually arrived. On this occasion I
got drunk, for the second time in my life. A quantity of whiskey was
started into a tub, and all hands drank to the success of the conflict. A
little upset me, then, nor would I have drunk anything, but for the
persuasions of some of my Wiscasset acquaintances, of whom there were
several in the ship. I advise all young men, who feel no desire to drink,
to follow their own propensities, and not to yield themselves up, body and
soul, to the thoughtless persuasions of others. There is no real
good-fellowship in swilling rum and whiskey; but the taste, once acquired,
is hard to cure. I never drank much, as to quantity, but a little filled
me with the love of mischief, and that little served to press me down for
all the more valuable years of my life; valuable, as to the advancement of
my worldly interests, though I can scarcely say I began really to live, as
a creature of God's should live, to honour his name and serve his ends,
until the year 1839.

After the Essex was fitted out, the flotilla cruised in the Sound, and was
kept generally on the look-out, about the waters of New York. Towards the
end of the season, our boat, with several others, was lying abreast of
the Yard, when orders came off to meet the Yard Commander, Captain
Chauncey, on the wharf. Here, this officer addressed us, and said he was
about to proceed to Lake Ontario, to take command, and asking who would
volunteer to go with him. This was agreeable news to us, for we hated the
gun-boats, and would go anywhere to be quit of them. Every man and boy