It was Irish beef, so called, wretchedly poor when packed; but having been stored in a hot climate, probably for years, it had lost what little excellence it once possessed, and acquired other qualities of which the packer never dreamed.

The effluvia arising from a barrel of this beef, when opened, was intolerable.

When boiled in clean salt water the strong flavor was somewhat modified, and it was reduced by shrinkage at least one half.
The palate could not become reconciled to it; and the longer we lived upon it the less we liked it.
But our bread! What shall I say of our bread?
I have already spoken of it as mouldy and ANIMATED.

On several occasions, in the course of my adventures, I have seen ship bread which could boast of those abominable attributes, remnants of former voyages put on board ships by unfeeling skinflints, to be "used up" before the new provisions were broached, but I never met with any which possessed those attributes to the extent which was the case on board the schooner John.

Although many years have passed since I was supported and invigorated by that "staff of life," I cannot even now think of it without a shudder of disgust! On placing a biscuit by my side when seated upon deck, it would actually be put in motion by some invisible machinery, and if thrown on the hot coals in order to destroy the living works within, and prevent the biscuit from walking off, it would make an angry sputtering wondrous to hear! Such was the character of our food and drink on our passage to the United States.