Life Aboard a Ship: Sailor's Point of Veiw

Dear Mother,
Life aboard this ship horrid.  Captain treats us like stray dogs.  And, the forecastle is a craze.  Our hammocks swing endlessly, back and forth, back and forth.  The rusty door constantly creaks.  If we are lucky, the only noise we hear are rats scurrying around on the floor and the breathing of the men.  Yesterday, Johnson was late to come out and he received 30 lashes of the cat-o'-nine-tails.  He has haunting bloody cuts on his back.  The ship smells badly; as if there was the rotting carcass of a cow just on the deck with the sun beating down on it.  The waves of the sea slash us in the face, as if the Captain has power over the ocean, ordering it to do this to us.  Today, I was ordered to scrape the barnacles of the side of the ship with my bare hands.  I have stinging fingers.  At dinner after the second dog watch we sat down for dinner.  There were maggots in the hardtack.  I can hardly await the time when the first mate calls out "land ho!" and we will dock.
                                                 - Guarda