Phenix Gazette

THE SAILOR'S FUNERAL.

The following is extracted from the manuscript journal of a sailor, who served on board his majesty's frigate Crescent, but died lately at Ravenna.

We had cruized for days off Cape Formosa, and death had begun its ravages. A sickly languor prevailed among our men-their usual lightness of heart and vivacity seem to have fled them, they sat in groups on the forecastle, smoking in silence, or listening to the narrative of deaths on board of other vessels, which had been on the same station. We endeavoured to divert their melancholy by different amusements, but it would not do; the number of our sick was increasing, and the low muttered inquiries after the dying, were always accompanied by an involuntary shudder. We committed, in one night, two to the waves; but as they had been ill ever since we had left Ascension, we paid not so much attention. The gunroom had always been healthy, but on the Sabbath morning (it was our first Sabbath on the coast of Africa) poor Bury complained of headach and dizziness-his fair face had already turned sallow; and when he expressed his determination of retiring to his hammock there was a settled gloom on every countenance. I remember, as the event of yesterday, when he came on board at Portsmouth. He had just completed his eighteenth year: his heart was light, and his hopes were high; and when he stepped on the quarter deck in his uniform, I am sure there was not a finer fellow in all his Majesty's service. How affectionately his aged father bade him farewell -the tears stood in the old man's eyes, as he said, "James, I know that you will not forget your duty to man, forget not your duty to God." -They will never meet! I went to ask him how he felt, but he knew me not; his eyes were wild, his reason was eclipsed; the sun was setting, and the night had a most ominous appearance. I went to see him again, but his eyes were closed--the struggle was over--his spirit had fled to God, who gave it! Few preparations can be made for a funeral on board of a ship. The bell tolled; and there was not a sailor who was not on deck, save those who heard the sound as the warning that the same bell would soon toll to assemble their comrades to commit to the sea their remains. The night was dark and lowering; yet the lightning, which flashed vividly across the vessel showed every object most clearly; a paleness and stillness was seated on the faces of the crew, and many a wishful look was cast towards the gangway, in mournful anticipation of the corpse. "I am the resurrection and the life!" -There was a thrill went through every heart as these words were uttered, a shuddering hysterical sort of a sigh was the response. Enclosed in his hammock, his corpse was laid on the grating: The thunder burst loud over our heads, yet seemed as if it had not been heard. The service proceeded-I heard a splash in the water!-I could contain myself no longer -I rushed into the gun-room. There is a moment when this world seems little, and its joys transitory bubbles; there is a moment when the soul feels itself affianced to objects more sublime than nature can afford; there is a moment when all the treasured sophistry of the past life, and all the infidel cavillings which have hampered our energies, vanish like cobwebs before the breath of the wind, and the soul asserts its claim to a nobler sphere; and that moment is when we retire from the world and follow a departed friend-not to the untrodden floor of the ocean-not to the darkness of the grave- but whither? aye to the glories of heaven! And the heart beats highest, yet soundest, when we feel assured, that ransomed by a Saviour's blood "he walks in white robes, and celebrates in never dying strains the praises of his Redeemer, God."