HOW I WAS EDUCATED
How I Was Educated
How I Was Educated
WITHIN a week after my first attempt in the literary field had been placed on sale, I received a letter from a woman in Vermont, asking me to answer the four following questions:
“Was it the words of the hymn that brought about your conversion that Sunday afternoon, when you say you decided to sever yourself from every evil association?”
“May I ask how you obtained an education to enable you to write your book, seeing you left your home at an early age?”
“Did you go directly to the Sailors’ Haven from the sea?”
“Do you think it just the thing to place pool and billiards in a seaman’s mission, and allow the sailors to fill God’s house with tobacco smoke?”
I did intend to write to this good soul and answer her questions, but before I could find time to settle down to such a task other lettersreached me. Some asked similar questions about myself, others wanted to know about my work, two requested me to tell them the whereabouts of their sons—prodigals who were among the swine. And another letter in the form of a circular desired me to ascertain if I could give some light on the baptism of William Kinge, who embarked at Weymouth in Dorsetshire, for America in 1635-6.
I will now take up the first three questions of my first letter. The answer to the fourth question regarding the use of pool and billiard tables in a seaman’s mission and allowing the men to smoke, to do justice to it, should be an article by itself.
I will say it was not the words of the hymn which appealed to me and convicted me of sin. One of my father’s favorite songs was “Annie Laurie.” If on that Sunday afternoon those young temperance workers had sung that old Scotch melody it would have stirred me as much and perhaps more than did the gospel hymn.
Seated in front of the singers that Sabbath day it was not the words, but the associations that hymn had with my boyhood days which made me desirous of changing my course of living.As I heard these young women my mind was filled with thoughts of home and loved ones; a longing to be the man my mother would have wanted me to be took possession of me; it entered my soul and permeated my whole being. During my travels I had heard many hymns sung, I had met religious men, but they made no impression on me. They may have done so in time. These young women singing this particular hymn brought to my mind recollections of a Christian home and fond parents. I will frankly say that on that afternoon no thoughts of a hereafter or of God entered my mind.
Among that gathering of women there was one who was so situated that it did not embarrass her homelife to have me visit her. When on liberty I was made welcome in her home. My birthday was on May first. She wanted to have me read the scriptures and so took advantage of the day to give me a handsome morocco-bound Bible, asking me to accept it as a birthday gift from her, remarking that she would like to have me mark with a pencil all the verses that interested me.
During this time, I was trying my best to overcome the ridicule of my shipmates. Someof them said in one month I would be as wild as ever; others, more generous, gave me six months to return to my old haunts; all were astonished and surprised to see that I had tacked ship. With my birthday gift in my hands, I seated myself on my ditty box on the port side of the gun deck, forward of the nine-inch gun, and opened the book. It was impossible for me then to receive any benefit from the reading. I had my pencil in hand to mark the verses, when some of the recruits leaned over the gun and began to quote, or rather misquote, scripture, asking me to find certain unheard of passages which I knew were not in the book. One man wanted me to find the story of the birth of Tom Bowline, declaring it was given in Holy Writ. Although exasperated, I held my peace, but locked my Bible in my ditty box and walked aft to the captain’s galley.
I knew in this small corner I would find help. Lewis, the captain’s cook, was there. Although colored, his intelligence and manliness were far ahead of many white men, and he had a kind heart. So on reaching his galley door I told him how some of the recruits hadbothered me and how I longed to sail in and receive a thrashing or give one. “Look here, King,” he said, “don’t mind them, boy; they are jealous of you. They won’t do what’s right themselves and won’t let you. If you’d stand up there at the canteen and shout beer for the crowd, they would say you’re a fine fellow. They don’t want you to get ahead. Just don’t mind them, but keep right on as you’re going. Come to me any time and I will help you.”
Ah, Lewis, it was easy said, but difficult to accomplish. It was hard to resist the many temptations and to keep from returning to my former companions.
Sometimes when a feeling of loneliness came over me and the tempter was near at hand, I searched out Mr. Howe, the ship’s writer, a stanch Christian fellow, and in his company I would find help. Again one of my shipmates, a splendid character, one who attended his church regularly, allowed me to talk with him on religious topics.
I held the rate of a quarter gunner, which gave me the charge of the empty shellrooms as well as care of the guns and ammunition.I secured a handful of candles from Jack of the Dust, and with my Bible tucked into the folds of my blue shirt, one day I wended my way to the shellroom. The shellrooms were forward and aft. Those forward were near the fore peak, making it almost impossible for me to go there without being seen. The after shellroom was under the orlop deck on each side of the tunnel of the propeller shaft.
If my reader could visit the empty starboard shellroom under the orlop deck of the oldWabash, he would find, if they have not lately been removed, drippings of the candles which gave me light to read the story of Him Who “went about doing good.” I could not mark the verses. All of them were interesting to me. The only ones I did mark were those I remembered hearing my father quote. For the first time I carefully read the story of our blessed Lord. It was during these quiet hours in the shellroom that I sought forgiveness and desired the blessings of a Christian life. It was there, as a man, I said my first prayer.
It was my duty to instruct the recruits in singlestick exercise, big gun drill and marching. On a certain forenoon after I had finisheddrilling the recruits, I went below to the shellroom and was so absorbed in my studies that I forgot my dinner. The time passed on and two bells (one o’clock) were struck. I heard a voice saying, “Yes, King has broken adrift; he hasn’t been seen since he drilled the recruits and he can’t be found.” I quickly blew out my candle and reached the orlop deck. Here I met two recruits who were taking an empty trunk on deck, the property of an officer who had been detached from the ship. I soon learned from them the hour, and that the boatswain’s mate had been shouting himself hoarse calling for me. The temptation to say I had been cleaning the shellroom was present with me. I mastered it and said to the officer of the deck, as I met him, that I had been in the shellroom. Before I could say what kept me there he, trusting me, said, “Open the armory and give the recruits their muskets.” I had done no wrong, still I believed that the executive officer would rather I wouldn’t use a naked light in the shellroom even though it was empty. The ship’s corporal still mistrusted me. He went below to the shellroom and searched for liquor, believing he would find some there belonging to me.
Now I feel I have answered my first question, I will tackle the second. My first recollection of school is, when a mere infant I was taken in the arms of my nurse and carried to the desk of my god-mother, who taught a primary school within a stone’s throw of my father’s house. From her I learned my alphabet and then on till I started to sea I attended school regularly. At twelve years old I was well versed in English, history, geography and arithmetic. I could read readily, and aboard ship I enjoyed reading novels. Before I was sixteen years of age I had read nearly all of Dickens, Scott, and many other renowned authors. During my cruise on theAllianceI devoured everything in the ship’s library, and was continually borrowing both good and bad books from my shipmates.
The day came when I longed to be of some service to the men of the sea. I had gained strength in my Christian life and had won the respect of my shipmates. Those who had ridiculed me now stood by me and encouraged me. I bought an English grammar, and with the help of the ship’s writer and the ship’s printer, I tried to master it. It was a hard task. At this time I formed the acquaintance of a localminister. I told him I wanted an education. His first words were, “Why don’t you go to Moody’s school?” I questioned him closely and learned from him much about Mount Hermon School for young men. Next morning I sent in haste a letter to the principal of the school, telling him who I was and that my only desire was to enter Mount Hermon for a course of study.
In a few days I received a large envelope containing a blank form for me to fill, and requesting me to have someone of good standing in my community sign it, vouching for my being a desirable pupil. It also stated that the tuition fee was $100 a year. I had saved no money. My earnings were now given to the support of my youngest sister. The minister signed my application, I mailed it and in a few days I received word that I was granted admission to that grand institution for young men.
It was November and as the school term did not begin till February, I had time to save $50 for the half-year’s tuition. The ship’s company of theWabashwas granted liberty every other night. The starboard watch would be on liberty one night and the port watch the next.I wanted to enter the Charlestown evening schools and it was of no use my doing so unless I could be on liberty every night. I obtained permission, entered the school and was examined. Dear me! I was put in a class of small boys who were far ahead of me in their studies. They laughed at me, and, knowing I was a sailor they joked with me till I felt myself an object of their ridicule. It was impossible for me to study in that class, so I gave up the evening school.
Determined to master the contents of my grammar book, I entered the ward room one morning and obtained the promise of Chaplain Wallace to tutor me, which he kindly did. At that time the special service men enlisted for one year’s service. My enlistment did not expire till May. Therefore during the two months I was preparing for Mount Hermon I was anxious about my discharge.
For the past six months, Captain James O’Kane had been in command of theWabash. During that time I had given no cause to be brought before him. There were so many men on the ship that I did not think he knew there was such a mortal as myself on his vessel.Three days before I was to enter Moody’s school, I braced up courage enough to reach the mainmast and make my request known to the officer of the deck. I think I see Captain O’Kane holding his sword in his hand walking towards me as I stood at the mast awaiting his coming.
“What is it, King?” I meekly replied I wanted my discharge and told him my heart’s desire. “Good fellow, good fellow,” was his answer. “To be sure, you can have it. Make out an application and I will approve it and send it to the commandant for his approval.” I did as he told me and my discharge was granted me. It was the best bit of parchment I had ever received, for on it was marked “Obedience, excellent.” I have it framed and as I write I can see it before me.
The day came for me to take my bag and hammock and leave the dear old sea to begin a different life. Just as I was going over the gangway, Captain O’Kane came on deck from his cabin. Seeing me he sent his orderly to say he wanted me. The attitude of this kind man towards me was more than I expected. He held out his hand for me to shake, and held mine while he said, “When you come to Boston comeaboard and see me. I want to hear good things of you.”
I suppose twenty miles was the farthest I had ever travelled inland. Now I was on the train bound to the backwoods of Massachusetts, more than one hundred miles from salt water. That evening when the train stopped at Mount Hermon station, I was stupefied. About fifty young students were at the depot, shouting and screaming their school yells. It seemed to me as though the inmates of a lunatic asylum had escaped.
There were other men on the train bound for Hermon, but I must have seemed easy to them. I had no sooner stepped from the train when they lifted me into a sleigh and insisted on my staying there. They then took hold of a long rope attached to the sleigh, and, yelling and shouting, they hauled me along a path through the woods leading to the school buildings. This was my first sleighride, and one that I will always remember. There was a quick turn in the road, and we were travelling at such a speed that in turning the bend the sleigh capsized and dashed me to my neck in the snow. The sleigh was righted, but on no account would Iget into it again. The students knew I was the expected sailor and tried to use all kinds of nautical terms for my benefit. I at last reached the principal’s office and was enrolled a student of Hermon.
I had only the necessary $50 for the half-year’s tuition. I required textbooks and civilians clothes. To obtain these I worked on the farm sawing wood during my spare moments for eight cents an hour. Every student was compelled to work two hours each day. Some were in the kitchen, others were on the farm. I liked the farm life. It was something new to me. One day the superintendent of the farm sent me to drive the ox team. He gave me my lesson. With whip in hand I started. It was “Whoa, haw, gee, get up.” I forgot just when to say whoa, and haw and gee, so the oxen took full control. I had steered many a kicking stubborn ship, and could keep the worst of them near her course, but could not steer this yoke of oxen. We might have kept going on and on; as it was, they hauled the wagon so that a pine tree came between it and the wheel, which checked their progress.
Any poor student who wanted to earn a little money could always find employment on the farm. The day came when, in need of clothing and necessary articles, I became depressed and low spirited. It took so much time to learn my lessons that I had but little to give to the woodsaw. One afternoon a letter was handed to me. Shall I say that I walked into the woods and had a good cry after reading it? I did. I kneeled in the snow and thanked God for the message that envelope contained. It was a sheet of paper, on which was written “For our old shipmate, Stanton H. King, to help him through school.” Under this were thirty-one names of my shipmates on theWabash. Pinned to the bottom of the names was a post office order for $28. This was a boom. Although I needed the money badly, my greatest joy was in the satisfaction of knowing my shipmates thought kindly of me, and remembered me in this way. Never have I received a gift which gave me such real happiness as this did.
The summer arrived and many of the students were preparing to start for their homes as soon as the school closed. I did not know what I should do. It was necessary for me to earnenough money to pay my way along through the summer months, and to have a balance of $100 for the coming year’s tuition.
The week before the term closed, a book agent visited the school, and before he left I was on his list as an agent for him during the summer. As soon as the examinations were over, I started to cover the territory. I called at several houses and found a cold reception at every door. The third morning I knocked on the door of a country house. A woman greeted me with, “I don’t want anything” and shut the door. I felt annoyed to be treated in this way and discouraged. I knocked again and continued knocking till the door reopened. Believing myself a failure as a book agent, I cast my prospectus and outfit at the woman’s feet and walked away.
By a brook in this country place I met a man who was leaning over a small bridge. He had a fishing-rod in his hand. I watched him haul up a little fish, which seemed to afford him lots of fun. I ventured to ask what pleasure he derived from such child’s play, for to me the pleasure of fishing was to have a fish on a line whose strength would almost tug meoverboard. We soon became acquainted, and after telling him a few of my deep-sea fishing experiences, he informed me that he was the Congregational minister of the village. He invited me to dine with him, and had me promise I would relate some sea experiences to his church people that night. It was prayer-meeting night. It had been rumored that a sailor was to tell sea stories after the meeting. That night I was surprised to find the vestry of this country church filled with people. When my time came to begin I warmed up to the occasion, and made a good hit. They gave me splendid attention and I talked for an hour and a half. At the close the minister told my audience that I was a poor student and asked for a liberal collection for me. I was given $17.81 and a new field to plough. This good minister enjoyed my stories and gave me letters to other ministers. I told sea stories in four other towns. My eyes began to trouble me and I was forced to make sail for Boston for treatment. I called at the Boston Baptist Bethel and offered my services for my board, so that I could visit the Eye and Ear Infirmary. I worked in this field for three weeks.
I was indeed disheartened when, standing in the presence of Mr. Cutler, the principal of Mount Hermon, I related my summer experiences, but was cheered when he told me that a Christian man in Philadelphia had sent him $100 to pay the tuition of a faithful student, and he had decided to use it for my tuition fee.
Other avenues opened for me to earn a few dollars. The students who could address an audience or could lead a meeting had ample opportunity to take the services in some neighboring church where the congregation was too poor to pay the stipend of a regular minister. In this way I earned a little.
On one occasion I was sent to a country church. It was Saturday night when I reached the station, which was four miles from the village proper. Arrangements had been made with some of the church people to meet me at the depot, and to look after my welfare till Monday morning. A maiden lady about forty-five years old approached me as I left the train and inquired of me if I was Mr. King. “Yes ma’am,” I replied. She then informed me that I was to stay at her home and that the sleigh was waiting for me. I got in and she took a seatbeside me. I don’t think we spoke a dozen words during the four miles ride. I was cold and so was she. When we reached the house we were met by another maiden lady, who, I should say, was fifty. She was introduced to me as a sister of my imperturbable friend. By-and-by the aged father came in. Supper was served.
The old man lighted his pipe and smoked till he fell asleep. About ten o’clock the two maidens looked in and the oldest said, “Father, it’s time for prayers.” The old man shook himself, put on his glasses and read from the Bible and then asked me to lead in prayer, which I did. When I announced that I was ready for bed, the youngest daughter took a lamp and told me to follow her. The guest chamber was as cold as a graveyard in mid-winter. Placing the lamp on a small table by the side of the bed, she said “Good night” and departed. I quickly unrobed, puffed the light out and jumped in, but quickly jumped out again and shouted “Help!” For my comfort these two dear creatures had placed a warm soapstone in my bed. Fortunately it was wrapped in woolen cloths or I should have beendisabled for life. As it was, I thought my back was broken. The old farmer, followed by his daughters, hastened to my room. “What is it, Mr. King? What is the matter?” I looked at the stone on the floor and said, “Oh, nothing much. Please don’t mind me. I’m taken this way once in a while.”
For some time I could hear them laughing at my expense. Having no use for such things in tropical countries, and not being provided with them at sea, I was ignorant of the existence of the soapstone for heating purposes. I intend if ever I have to make a trip around the Horn to take along a couple of bricks and warm them in the galley stove, to be used in my bunk when below.
In answer to the third question, I will say that while holding a service in the town of Guilford, Vt., I met the minister of the Episcopal Church. He proved to be my old captain of theKearsarge, Commander Allan D. Brown. He lived in Brattleboro, after being retired from the United States Navy. I spent many pleasant hours in his home in Brattleboro. It was he who sent word to the Episcopal City Mission that a sailor named King was at MountHermon, and would prove a profitable acquisition to their sailor work if they were to secure his services. I was asked by them to work in their field during my summer vacation. I accepted the call and at the close of the summer the Superintendent of the Sailor’s Haven in Charlestown held out every inducement for me to remain as his assistant. I yielded to him and here I am.