The breeze sprang up again next day, but so light, that the ship seemed to be asleep,--fancy her in a night-cap and dressing-gown. Our dear companions became day by day more insupportable; the liveliest, who were always on deck, began to quarrel among themselves; the others merely vegetated; they remained day and night in their sleeping-places, without even taking the trouble to wash themselves; perhaps they were afraid of taking too much water out of the sea, as the ship was near sand-banks. We tried all sorts of amusements, such as reasonable grown-up men would not be suspected of patronizing. Amongst others, we played at soldiers; working men, shopkeepers, apothecaries, Jews, Christians, sailors, old and young, all took part in it, with sticks, brooms, harpoons, fish-grains, hunting knives, wind instruments (the ship’s horn for fog-signals), flags, &c., just like little boys. The whole play was carried out--rebellion, desertion (one of the Jews was the deserter), court-martial, execution, and tocsin: the tocsin bell was a shirt stretched over a hoop, and beaten with a broomstick. The best of all was, that the doctor turned up his nose at us, and talked about our being childish! Wasn’t he hooted?
July 18th.--Running merrily with a fair wind, our hearts swelling with fresh hopes. We collected the Oldenburghers on deck to sing a song, the chorus of which was, “Peasants ride in coaches in America.” I thought the good people might be in error as to coaches, and that wheelbarrows would be nearer the mark. But what should we be without hope? We were near the land. At early dawn I sprang out of a hammock I had manufactured, for I could not sleep in the narrow berth, and mounted aloft. Placid, just crisped by a light south-east wind, lay the sea, deep, deep beneath me, dandling the noble ship, playing with her, yielding before her, and then following with a slight splash. I gained the highest point, clasped the mast with my left arm, and delightedly breathed the pure morning air. The horizon became lighter and lighter, the view clearer and clearer--the mist vanished--a hollow sound like distant thunder broke on the listening ear! It was surf,--there lay the land, and plainer and plainer as the light increased appeared a blue stripe above the dark waves of the horizon. “Land!” cried I from the mast head, and “land!” “land!” resounded from one to another between decks. As ants run out of their nest when it is disturbed, so rushed the half-wakened passengers up the hatchway, hastened to the bows, and opening their blinking eyes as wide as they could, repeated “land!” although I am convinced that it was not possible to see it from the deck, as the day did not get any clearer, and only the highest points were visible. Our lanky friend the tailor came up among the rest, holding a plate of butter in one hand, a ship’s biscuit in the other; as he heard the word “land!” repeated, he set his provisions on one of the hen-coops, and ran with the others to look at the land. William, who probably thought that there would be plenty of time to contemplate it, sat himself quietly down on the hen-coop, and of course on the butter, which had become rather soft after a night spent between decks; there he sat, kicking his heels against the rails, his hands comfortably stowed in his pockets, and whistling to express his content. The tailor returning, naturally anxious about his week’s allowance of butter, which he, confiding in the general honesty, had, in a manner, left exposed in the highway, stood immovable with astonishment, with eyes and mouth wide open, looking at this picture of innocence and self-satisfaction sitting in his butter. William, unconscious of evil, and amused at the tailor’s astonishment, put on a broad grin, which stopped his whistling, but he kept up the time with his heels. At last the astounded tailor found his tongue, and calling out, “Oh the wretch!” he sprang on the unprepared William, pulled him across his knee, and pointing out the butter to the bystanders, exclaimed in a sorrowful voice, “There, there it is!”