When the wind was ahead, if on anchorage ground, he would let go an anchor, rather than take the trouble of beating to windward for what he considered the trifling object of saving a day or two in the passage! "Have patience and the wind will change," was his motto.

He was not the only shipmaster I have met with who was in the habit of looking after his own comfort as well as the interest of his employer.
The wind was favorable the next day, and we glided past Sandy Hook and entered on the broad ocean.

Away we went to the southward with the wind abeam, blowing a strong breeze from the westward.

The captain took the helm, and all hands were employed in clearing the decks and putting things in order; Mr.Pierce being particularly active in the work, saying but little, and looking unusually solemn.
I was on the weather side of the main deck, securing the lashings of the long-boat, when I heard a splash in the water to leeward; at the same moment the cook shouted out, with all the power of his African lungs, "Goramity! Mr.Pierce is fell overboard!" "The mate is overboard! The mate is overboard!" was now the cry from every mouth.
"Hard-a-lee!" screamed the skipper, and at the same instant executed the order himself by jamming the tiller hard down to leeward.

"Haul the fore sheet to windward! Clear away the long-boat! Be handy, lads! We'll save the poor fellow yet." And then the captain shouted to the unfortunate man, as he was seen not far off in the wake, "Be of good cheer! Keep your head up! No danger! We'll soon be alongside!" I seized the cook's axe and cut away the lashings of the boat, and in a space of time incredibly brief, the boat was lifted from the chocks by main strength and launched over the side.