I had no alternative but to take on myself the
responsibility of navigating and sailing the vessel. And while
proceeding along the fruitful shores of St. Domingo, and the picturesque
coast of Jamaica, I passed whole nights on deck, engaged in tending the
sick, trimming the sails, and steering the brig. It was truly fortunate
that the wind continued light and the weather pleasant.

Smith, who was the first man taken sick, did not recover. His illness
gradually increased; for several days his mind wandered, but he was not
troublesome, and died on the tenth day after we left St. Pierre. On the
day of the captain's death, a young man, belonging to Connecticut,
was seized with a fever, and died five days afterwards in a state of
delirium. His case required constant care and attention, as he made more
than one attempt to throw himself overboard, in order, as he believed,
to embrace his parents and friends in his own native village. Two others
were taken alarmingly ill, but after suffering severely for several
days gradually recovered. The cook, a stout black fellow, inured to warm
climates, rendered me great assistance in taking care of the sick. But
on the morning on which we beheld the mountains of Jamaica he also was
visited by yellow fever. The symptoms were alarming, and there seemed
no prospect of his recovery; but on the third day of his sickness, AND
AFTER THE BLACK VOMIT HAD COMMENCED, and while I sat watching by his
berth, expecting that in a few minutes he would breathe his last, he
seemed to revive, and I put some rice-water to his lips. He swallowed
a small quantity; the terrible forerunner of a speedy dissolution
disappeared, and from that moment his strength gradually increased, the
fever left him, and before we reached New Orleans he had recovered.

While the cook was still dangerously ill, one morning early, as we were
slowly sailing along towards the Grand Cayman, Gaskell came crawling up
the steps leading to the half-deck, and tottered along towards me. I was
appalled at the change which a single night had made in his appearance.
The defiant, rollicking ruffian no longer stood before me; the sneer was
no longer on his countenance, his eyes no longer sparkled with mischief,
and his language was not interlarded with disgusting profanity. His
eyes were glassy, his cheeks ghastly pale, and a cold sweat, produced by
FEAR, stood on his forehead. The workings of suffering and terror were
imprinted on his features