It has enabled me to resist temptations to evil with which I was often surrounded, and to grapple with and triumph over obstacles that might otherwise have overwhelmed me.
When I reached Portsmouth, my kinsman, Captain Tilton, gave me an ungracious reception.

He rebuked me severely for expressing a determination to go to sea.
"Go to sea!" he exclaimed in a tone of the most sovereign contempt.
"Ridiculous! You are a noodle for thinking of such a thing.

A sailor's life is a dog's life at best! Besides, you are not fit for a sailor, either by habits, taste, or constitution.

With such a pale face, and slight figure, and sheepish look, how can you expect to fight the battle of life on the ocean, and endure all the crosses, the perils, and the rough-and-tumble of a sailor's life?
Hawser, you are not fit for a sailor.

You had much better go home and try something else." Finding me unconvinced by his arguments, and unshaken in my determination, he concluded his remarks by asking me abruptly the startling question, "Are you ready to die ?" I replied, that I had not bestowed much thought on the subject; but frankly admitted I was not altogether prepared for such a solemn event.
"Then, Hawser," said he with marked emphasis, "if you are not prepared to die to die of YELLOW FEVER don't go to Demarara at this season of the year!" And he left the room abruptly, apparently disgusted at my obstinacy.
On the following day, Captain Tilton took me on board the brig Dolphin.
I did not mark her imperfections, which were many.