At one in the afternoon we sailed. I had said vespers and compline earlier, so as not to be praying distractedly during all those maneuvers that have to be done during the first few hours at sea, and also just in case I might get seasick and not be able to pray. On reaching the boat, where people of all nationalities were gathered for that passage, I heard a group speaking Castilian. This cheered me up and I asked, Are you Spaniards They answered yes, that they were Benedictine monks who had left Navarre because of the action of General Maroto and were on their way to Rome. They told me of the sufferings and trials they had undergone and of their present miserable predicament. They also mentioned that there was another Spaniard on board, a Catalan, who was in very bad shape, having been robbed while crossing the harbor. Sure enough, it was the same man who was to have accompanied me and had not kept his word. When I saw him, he really was reduced to misery and I did what I could to console him. We spent the afternoon and evening in these conversations.

Since my voyage to Rome was not intended as a pleasure trip but one in which to work and suffer for Jesus Christ, I felt that I ought to look for the humblest and poorest place aboard so as to have a better chance of suffering. With this in mind, I bought a ticket for standing-room on the deck near the bow, which was the poorest and cheapest passage. After I had gone off by myself to say my rosary and other devotions, I looked for a place where I could rest a bit and could find nothing more suitable than a pile of coiled rope, which I sat on, resting my head on an artillery piece in the battery on one side of the ship.

In this position, I meditated on how Jesus might have rested when he set out in the boat with his disciples. It turned out to be an ideal meditation, for the Lord even chose to add something of a tempest to it. I was just about to doze off when such a storm arose that we were shipping water. I sat motionless on my pile of rope and pulled my cloak over my head. I had a little bundle of provisions and my hat in my lap, and I pressed them close to my body, leaning my head forward a bit so that the water from the waves that were crashing over the boat could run off. When I heard a wave striking I would bow my head, brace my back to it, and the water would come rushing over me.

Thus I passed the whole night until the dawn came and with it a rain that stilled the tempest. First I had been drenched with seawater and now I was being drenched with sweet rain-water. My entire luggage consisted of a shirt, a pair of socks, a handkerchief, a folding razor, a comb, my breviary, and a very small edition of the Bible. Since deck passengers were given nothing to eat, they had to carry their own provisions for the trip. Knowing this before I left Marseilles, I had bought my provisions, which consisted of a pound-loaf of bread and a piece of cheese. These were all my provisions for the five days from Marseilles to Civitavecchia-stops, storms, and all. The storm had been so strong that a great deal of water had washed over me. My cloak was drenched, and the bread and cheese were soggy, but I had to eat them as they were. Although they were quite salty I was so hungry that they tasted very good to me.

On our second day out, after the storm had calmed and the rain stopped, I took out my breviary and said Matins and the little hours. When I had finished my prayers, an English gentleman walked over. He said that he was a Catholic and liked priests. After we had chatted awhile he went to his cabin, and in a short time I saw him coming toward me with some silver coins on a tray. When I saw him, I thought, What are you going to do Will you accept the money or not I said to myself, You don't need it, but those poor Spaniards do; so take it and give it to them. And that is just what I did. I accepted it, thanked the man, and went to divide it among those poor people, who went at once to the kitchen or refreshment counter to buy whatever food they needed.

Other passengers did the same. They gave me money and I distributed it to the others, not keeping so much as a penny for myself although it had been intended for me. I didn't take a mouthful of the food they had bought; I was content with my water-soaked bread. The Englishman was very edified when he saw how poor and detached I was and how the others were eating food that they had bought with the money I'd given them, while I ate none of it. He told me that he was getting off at Leghorn and traveling overland to Rome. He gave me a card on which he had written his name and the address of the palazzo in which he would be staying and told me to come and see him and he would give me whatever I needed.

This whole adventure confirmed what I had already believed that the best and most effective means to edify and move people is good example, poverty, detachment, fasting, mortification, and selfdenial. Since this English gentleman was traveling in Oriental luxury, with his coach, servants, birds, and dogs aboard, one might imagine that my appearance would move him to contempt. But the sight of a priest who was poor, detached, and mortified moved him so deeply that he couldn't do enough for me. And not only he but all the passengers showed me great respect and veneration. Perhaps if they had seen me rubbing elbows with them at table, and ordering rich and elegant dishes, they would have criticized and looked down on me as I often saw them do with others. Virtue, it would seem, is so necessary for a priest that even the wicked want us to be good.

After five days at sea we landed at Civitavecchia and headed for Rome, where we arrived without incident, through God's goodness and mercy. How good you are, my Father. Let me serve you always with fidelity and love. Give me your constant grace to know what pleases you and the will power to put it into effect. My Lord and Father, I want nothing more than to know your holy will, so that I may do it; nothing more than to love you with all my heart and serve you with all fidelity. My Mother--

Mother of Fair Love--help me!

(Excerpt taken from The Autobiography of St. Anthony Mary Claret)