CHAPTER II.
I found few boys of my own age, who entered into my notions. One, indeed, I did find equally extravagant, and we were scarcely ever separate. Tired of living under the control of our parents, we determined to make a bold push at independence. We mustered as much money as bought the sixteenth of a lottery ticket. In the interval between buying and drawing—how we did dream! It never entered our minds that we would get less than the share of a prize of £30,000; and, of course, the disposal of the cash was the constant theme of our conversation. At last the wished for day arrived, on which we were to receive intelligence of the fate of our ticket. We did not go to inquire concerning it until night. With hearts fluttering with apprehension, we went to the shop where we had bought it. I would not go in, but sent in my companion. I durst scarcely look after him. To such an intense pitch of interest was my mind wrought up, that the criminal on his trial for some capital crime could not wait with more dreadful anxiety for the verdict of the jury, than I did for my companion to come out. He did come, but I was afraid to look him in the face, lest I should read disappointment in it. I waited for him to speak, but his tongue refused its office. I at last ventured to look in his face, and there I read the truth. Had he spoken and told me it was a blank, I might have doubted him, and thought he only joked me; but I could never doubt the expression ofdespair which I saw there depicted. Not a word was exchanged, we walked on in stupified vexation. After wandering about for some time unconscious of where we were going, he at last burst into tears. I could have willingly joined him, but I suspected that something else preyed on his mind. On asking him what distressed him so much, he said that part of the money with which he had purchased his share of the lottery ticket was the balance of an account, due to his father, which he had received without his knowledge. He depended on the receipt of his prize to pay it with interest, but now those hopes were blasted; he could never face home—his countenance would betray him, and his father was very severe.
He said he was determined to go to Greenock, and engage with some merchant vessel bound to Surinam. He had an uncle a planter there, and, of course, when he should arrive, there would be no danger of him; his uncle would procure his discharge from the ship, and the result, that he would become a gentleman. I listened eagerly to this. We had often expatiated on the pleasure of seeing foreign countries, and I resolved to accompany him, not doubting but his uncle would provide for me also, for his sake. Any thing like adventure was always welcome to me, and my mind was soon decided.
We had no money, however, to carry us to Greenock; but I recollected a person who owed my father money, and I proposed to go and ask it in my father’s name. This was the first time I had ventured to do any thing so glaringly dishonest, and I hesitated long. I passed the door a dozen times before I mustered effrontery enough to go in; but it was drawing near the hour of shutting up, and I was obliged to resolve. I went in and asked the money. The candle burned dimly, and I stood as much in the shade as possible, but I am sure he noticed my embarrassment. However, he gave the money, and we hurried out of the town immediately.
We travelled all night, and next morning arrived inGreenock. After getting some breakfast, and brushing ourselves up a little, although we were very tired, we resolved in looking out for a vessel. On inquiry, we learned that there was no vessel in the harbour bound for Surinam. This was a disappointment; but, we thought, if we were once in the West Indies, we would find little difficulty in getting to the desired spot.
The first vessel we came to, was a ship bound for Kingston, Jamaica. We went on board; and, inquiring for the captain, asked if he wanted any men. He looked at us with a smile of contempt, eyeing us from head to foot, ‘Men,’ said he, laying a particular emphasis on the word, (for neither of us exceeded thirteen years of age,) ‘it would be a pretty vessel that would be mann’d with suchmen as you—Whaur hae ye come frae na? Ye’ll be some runawa weaver callans frae Glasgow, I’se warrant ye; but ye had better gang hame again, for I’m thinkin’ ye’ll like the sea waur than the loom.’ We were galled by his reply; but consoled ourselves with the idea that some one else would be glad to get us.
After trying several other vessels with nearly the same success, at last, tired and crest-fallen, we were going home to our lodging, when an old man, who had seen us going from one vessel to another, accosted us, and asked if we wanted a ship. Replying in the affirmative, ‘you need not want that long,’ said he, ‘for if you go with me, I will soon find one for you. Where do you wish to go?’
‘To Surinam.’
‘Then, you could not have come in a better time, for there is a vessel lying in the roads ready to sail for that place.’
‘Do you think they will take us?’ said we.
‘Oh, to be sure they will, and glad to get you, I’ll take you on board now if you like.’
We assented, and he went to procure a boat to take us on board.
When he was gone, a sailor, who was standing by and saw us talking to the old man, came up, and askedus what he had been saying. Having told him, he said the sooner we were off out of that the better; for the fellow, who had been talking to us, was one of a set of rascals in the pay of the press-gang; and that, instead of putting us on board of a vessel such as he described, he would put us on board the Tender; and that there was actually no such vessel in the roads as the one he had mentioned. We lost no time in taking his advice, and hurried home to our lodgings.
When there, my spirits began to sink; and the thought of how I had left my parents, and the distress they must be in about me, completely overcame me, and I burst into tears; and my companion feeling as bad as myself, we resolved to return home, and ask forgiveness of our parents; but, being fatigued with travelling, we put off our return until next morning.
When we got up next day, our minds had recovered some of their former elasticity, and we felt less disposed to return than we did the preceding evening. The idea of the ridicule which we should have to encounter from our acquaintance, and on my part, the stigma which would be thrown on my character for drawing the money in my father’s name, seemed to be insurmountable barriers in the way, so we walked into the town with our minds still undecided.
In crossing the main street, we met one of our old school-fellows, who had run away from his parents about six months before. He had just returned from the West Indies; and having leave for a few days to go to Glasgow to see his friends, he had got himself rigged out in the jolly-tar style—his Jacket and trowsers of fine blue cloth, white stockings, short-quartered shoes, a black silk handkerchief tied loosely round his neck, over which the collar of his checked shirt was folded neatly down—a glazed hat on his head, and an enormous quid of tobacco in his cheek. In fact, he was so completely metamorphosed, that we scarcely knew him: for when at school, he was remarked for being a soft, dull sort of boy.
On seeing us, he seized a hand of each, and exclaimed,‘Oh, my eyes! Joe and Bill! how are ye, my hearties? what has brought you to Greenock; be you looking out for a berth?’ We were expressing our pleasure at having met him, when he said, ‘Don’t be standing here in the street. Let’s go and get a glass of grog.’ We remarked, that it would look very odd for boys like us to go into a tavern and call for liquor; but Tom thought that a very foolish objection, and leading the way into a tavern, we followed him. As he walked in before us, I perceived that he had altered his manner of walking quite to the rocking gait of the veteran tar. I certainly thought that Tom had been an apt scholar; he seemed to be as finished a sailor as if he had been twenty years at sea. From being a boy of few words, he had acquired a surprising volubility of tongue, along with an affected English accent. He could curse and swear, chew tobacco and drink grog; and although we perceived much affectation in what Tom said and did, still we were disposed to think him a very clever fellow. When seated over our grog, we disclosed our minds to him, and inquired if he could assist us in getting a vessel. Tom looked rather grave on this subject, and sinking his voice from the high English accent he had acquired so rapidly, said he was not sure whether he could get a vessel for us or not; ‘but,’ said he, ‘in the mean time drink your grog, and we will see about that after.’
Warmed by the liquor, Tom began and gave us an account of his voyage, which, as he afterwards owned, he painted in very extravagant colours. We were so charmed with his description, that we gave up all idea of going home, and adjourned from the tavern to Tom’s lodgings, where he displayed to our wondering eyes the treasures he had acquired by his West India voyage—conch shells, cocoa nut, and stalks of Indian corn, which were designed to grace his mother’s chimney-piece, and excite the wonder of her visitors.
Between the liquor we had drunk, and what we had heard and seen, we were in high spirits, and went out to perambulate the town; but, going up the mainstreet, towards the head inn, I met my father full in the face. He had just arrived from Glasgow in search of us. I thought I would have sunk into the earth. Confounded and ashamed, I stood like a felon caught in some depredation. Tom ran off, and left William and I to manage affairs as we could. My father was the first who broke silence.— ‘Well, Joseph,’ said he, ‘will you tell me the meaning of this jaunt you have taken? But I am going to Mr C——’s, and you had better come with me, and we shall talk over the matter there.’ We followed him without saying a word, and when we were seated in Mr C——’s, he again asked my motive for leaving home. I looked in William’s face, and saw he was determined. I then said we were resolved on going to sea, and that we had come to Greenock for that purpose. Mr C. and my father said every thing they could to dissuade us from our foolish resolution, but to little purpose. The idea of the ridicule we would have to bear from our acquaintance if we returned, and Tom’s exaggerated description of the pleasures of a sea life, had confirmed us in our determination.
‘Well,’ said my father (after he had reasoned the matter with me, and painted what a sailor’s life was in reality, with little effect,) ‘I might exert the right I have over you, as a parent, in forcing you to return, but I will not. If you have so far forgot your duty to me, and to yourself, after all that I have done for you, as to throw yourself away as a common ship-boy, where you can have no opportunity of learning any thing but wickedness, you may do it, but remember my words—you will repent it, when you will perhaps have no father to question the propriety of your conduct. Indeed, after the dishonest action you have been guilty of at home, I don’t know but your presence would be more disagreeable to me than your absence, unless you altered much for the better; and if I have any very anxious wish that you would return, it is more on your poor mother’s account than my own. Oh, how could you leave us in the manner you did, without a cause?—Thefirst night you were absent from home, your mother was frantic. She wandered from place to place in search of you—and was sure you were not in life—that some accident had befallen you. When she knows the truth, how cruel must she think you?—O! Joseph, after all our care and attention, I am afraid you will bring down our gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.’
Here the tears came into my father’s eyes, and his voice became choked. I could bear it no longer, and burst into tears. My first impulse was to throw myself at his feet, and beg forgiveness; but the obstacles which were in the way of my return before, again recurring to my mind, prevented me, and I only wept in sullen silence.
‘Say no more to him now,’ said Mr C. ‘Give him until to-morrow to think on what you have said; and if he be then of the same opinion, we shall procure a good ship for him, and see him properly fitted out.’ My father took his advice, and did not resume the subject that day. He wrote, however, to William’s father, telling where his son was.
Next morning, he arrived, and insisted on taking him home by force, and even beat and abused him in the house we were in; but my father and Mr C. interfered and represented to him how foolish his conduct was, as he might be sure the boy would take the first opportunity of running away again. He was at last brought to reason, and agreed to be guided by my father. We were again asked what we had determined on doing, and I replied that we were fixed in our determination of going to sea.
It was then proposed to get us bound immediately as my father could not be spared from his business, and was obliged to return next day. Mr C. took us to a friend of his, a Mr G. a respectable merchant and ship-owner, who was in want of apprentices at that time for some of his vessels. We were there bound for three years, and attached to a letter-of-marque brig, which carried 18 guns, loading at that time for New Providence.
The afternoon was spent in purchasing the necessary articles to fit me out. When that was finished, my father, feeling uneasy on my mothers account, resolved to return to Glasgow that night. Before going away he said, ‘I could almost wish your mother saw you before you went away—and yet, perhaps it would be better that she would not. You will soon find yourself among very strange company; and if I am not wrong informed, company from whom you will be able to learn little that is good; but I trust you will remember the religious instruction you have received from your parents, when you are far from them; and although you have grieved and disobeyed your earthly parents, I hope you will not forget your Creator. Remember his eye is on you wherever you go; and although you may be bereft of every other stay, still he will be ever with you, to succour, and to help, if you call upon him. Farewell, my boy, God help you!’
My heart sunk within me. As the coach started, I saw him wipe the tears from his eyes. I must surely be a hardened wretch, thought I, to persist so resolutely in what I know to be wrong, and what is breaking the heart of my parents; but I was roused from my reflections by some one slapping me on the shoulder. It was Tom—‘Well, my boys, so you have got bound to our owner—have you?’
‘Do you belong to Mr G. also?’ said I.
‘To be sure, and I don’t think but I shall get into your ship too, although she sails so soon; for I don’t like the one I am in.’
We felt well pleased that Tom was to be our shipmate; and in the contemplation of all the good fortune that I thought awaited me, I am ashamed to say, that I nearly forgot my distressed parents.
As for William, the moment his father set off, (for my father and his went up to Glasgow together,) the poor fellow seemed quite relieved! His mother had died when he was very young, and his father being a man of a morose severe disposition, he scarcely knew what parental tenderness was.—How different fromme! He had some excuse for what he had done; but I had none.
Tom went up to Glasgow next day, to see his friends; and a day or two after, William and I were sent on board, to commence our seamanship. The first day or two passed away well enough. There was little or nothing to do. The third day, the mate called us aft to the quarter deck. ‘Do you see that flag?’ said he, pointing to the mast head. It had got entangled in the signal halliards. ‘Now let me see which of you will get up first and clear it.’
Will and I got on the shrouds, and mounted with great alacrity, until we got to that part of the shrouds which takes a sweep outwards to meet the edge of the top. Will was up over it in a twinkling; for he had been used to mount the rigging of the vessels at the Broomielaw; but I thought it a dangerous-looking place, and seeing a hole through the top, by the side of the mast, I proceeded to squeeze myself through it; which being an offence against the laws of good seamanship, (as the sailors’ name for it denotes, being called thelubber’s hole,) the mate seized a rope’s end on deck, and running up the shrouds after me, called out, ‘You young dog! is that the way you are taking?’
I made haste to rectify my error by taking the same route that Will had pursued; but, in my hurry, from the fear of the rope’s end, when I reached the edge of the top, I let go the hold with my feet, and being suspended by my hands, would soon have dropped on the deck, or into the sea, had the mate not caught hold, and assisted me up. Will had by this time got as far as the cross-trees; but he was foiled in his attempts to climb up the royal mast. The mate, however, thought we had done enough for once, and we were ordered down; but our exercise at this kind of work being continued every day while in harbour, we soon became expert at it.