"There's a youth in this city, it were a great pity
That he from our lasses should wander awa';
For he's bonny and braw, weel-favoured witha',
And his hair has a natural buckle and a'.
His coat is the hue of his bonnet so blue;
His pocket is white as the new-driven snaw;
His hose they are blue, and his shoon like the slae,
And his clean siller buckles they dazzle us a'."
BURNS.
We had selected our time well, as respects the hour of departure. It
was young ebb, and the boat floated swiftly down the creek, though the
high banks of the latter would have prevented our feeling any wind,
even if there were a breeze on the river. Our boat was of some size,
sloop-rigged and half-decked; but Neb's vigorous arms made her move
through the water with some rapidity, and, to own the truth, the lad
sprang to his work like a true runaway negro. I was a skilful oarsman
myself, having received many lessons from my father in early boyhood,
and being in almost daily practice for seven mouths in the year. The
excitement of the adventure, its romance, or what for a short time
seemed to me to be romance, and the secret apprehension of being
detected, which I believe accompanies every clandestine undertaking,
soon set me in motion also. I took one of the oars, and, in less than
twenty minutes, the Grace & Lucy, for so the boat was called, emerged
from between two, high, steep banks, and entered on the broader bosom
of the Hudson.
Neb gave a half-suppressed, negro-like cry of exultation, as we shot
out from our cover, and ascertained that there was a pleasant and fair
breeze blowing. In three minutes we had the jib and mainsail on the
boat, the helm was up, the sheet was eased off, and we were gliding
down-stream at the rate of something like five miles an hour. I took
the helm, almost as a matter of course; Rupert being much too indolent
to do anything unnecessarily, while Neb was far too humble to aspire
to such an office while Master Miles was there, willing and ready. In
that day, indeed, it was so much a matter of course for the skipper of
a Hudson river craft to steer, that most of the people who lived on
the banks of the stream imagined that Sir John Jervis, Lord Anson, and
the other great English admirals of whom they had read and heard,
usually amused themselves with that employment, out on the ocean. I
remember the hearty laugh in which my unfortunate father indulged,
when Mr. Hardinge once asked him how he could manage to get any sleep,
on account of this very duty. But we were very green, up at Clawbonny,
in most things that related to the world.
The hour that succeeded was one of the most painful I ever passed in
my life. I recalled my father, his manly frankness, his liberal
bequests in my favour, and his precepts of respect and obedience; all
of which, it now seemed to me, I had openly dishonoured. Then came the
image of my mother, with her love and sufferings, her prayers, and her
mild but earnest exhortations to be good. I thought I could see both
these parents regarding me with sorrowful, though not with reproachful
countenances. They appeared to be soliciting my return, with a species
of silent, but not the less eloquent, warnings of the consequences.
Grace and Lucy, and their sobs, and admonitions, and entreaties to
abandon my scheme, and to write, and not to remain away long, and all
that tender interest had induced two warm-hearted girls to utter at
our parting, came fresh and vividly to my mind. The recollection
proved nearly too much for me. Nor did I forget Mr. Hardinge, and the
distress he would certainly feel, when he discovered that he had not
only lost his ward, but his only son. Then Clawbonny itself, the
house, the orchards, the meadows, the garden, the mill, and all that
belonged to the farm, began to have a double value in my eyes, and to
serve as so many cords attached to my heart-strings, and to remind me
that the rover
"Drags at each remove a lengthening chain.'"
I marvelled at Rupert's tranquility. I did not then understand his
character as thoroughly as I subsequently got to know it. All that he
most prized was with him in the boat, in fact, and this lessened his
grief at parting from less beloved objects. Where Rupert was, there
was his paradise. As for Neb, I do believe his head was over his
shoulder, for he affected to sit with his face down-stream, so long as
the hills that lay in the rear of Clawbonny could be at all
distinguished. This must have proceeded from tradition, or instinct,
or some latent negro quality; for I do not think the fellow fancied
_he_ was running away. He knew that his two young masters were;
but he was fully aware he was my property, and no doubt thought, as
long as he staid in my company, he was in the line of his legitimate
duty. Then it was _my_ plan that he should return with the boat,
and perhaps these backward glances were no more than the shadows of
coming events, cast, in his case, _behind_.
Rupert was indisposed to converse, for, to tell the truth, he had
eaten a hearty supper, and began to feel drowsy; and I was too much
wrapped up in my own busy thoughts to solicit any communications. I
found a sort of saddened pleasure in setting a watch for the night,
therefore, which had an air of seaman-like duty about it, that in a
slight degree revived my old taste for the profession. It was
midnight, and I took the first watch myself, bidding my two companions
to crawl under the half-deck, and go to sleep. This they both did
without any parley, Rupert occupying an inner place, while Neb lay
with his legs exposed to the night air.
The breeze freshened, and for some time I thought it might be
necessary to reef, though we were running dead before the wind. I
succeeded in holding on, however, and I found the Grace & Lucy was
doing wonders in my watch. When I gave Rupert his call at four
o'clock, the boat was just approaching two frowning mountains, where
the river was narrowed to a third or fourth of its former width; and,
by the appearance of the shores, and the dim glimpses I had caught of
a village of no great size on the right bank, I knew we were in what
is called Newburgh Bay. This was the extent of our former journeyings
south, all three of us having once before, and only once, been as low
as Fishkill Landing, which lies opposite to the place that gives this
part of the river its name.
Rupert now took the helm, and I went to sleep. The wind still
continued fresh and fair, and I felt no uneasiness on account of the
boat. It is true, there were two parts of the navigation before us of
which I had thought a little seriously, but not sufficiently so to
keep me awake. These were the Race, a passage in the Highlands, and
Tappan Sea; both points on the Hudson of which the navigators of that
classical stream were fond of relating the marvels. The first I knew
was formidable only later in the autumn, and, as for the last, I hoped
to enjoy some of its wonders in the morning. In this very justifiable
expectation, I fell asleep.
Neb did not call me until ten o'clock. I afterwards discovered that
Rupert kept the helm for only an hour, and then, calculating that from
five until nine were four hours, he thought it a pity the negro should
not have his share of the glory of that night. When I was awakened, it
was merely to let me know that it was time to eat something--Neb
would have starved before he would precede his young master in that
necessary occupation--and I found Rupert in a deep and pleasant sleep
at my side.
We were in the centre of Tappan, and the Highlands had been passed in
safety. Neb expatiated a little on the difficulties of the navigation,
the river having many windings, besides being bounded by high
mountains; but, after all, he admitted that there was water enough,
wind enough, and a road that was plain enough. From this moment,
excitement kept us wide awake. Everything was new, and everything
seemed delightful. The day was pleasant, the wind continued fair, and
nothing occurred to mar our joy. I had a little map, one neither
particularly accurate, nor very well engraved; and I remember the
importance with which, after having ascertained the fact myself, I
pointed out to my two companions the rocky precipices on the western
bank, as New Jersey! Even-Rupert was struck with this important
circumstance. As for Neb, he was actually in ecstasies, rolling his
large black eyes, and showing his white teeth, until he suddenly
closed his truly coral and plump lips, to demand what New Jersey
meant? Of course I gratified this laudable desire to obtain knowledge,
and Neb seemed still more pleased than ever, now he had ascertained
that New Jersey was a State. Travelling was not as much of an
every-day occupation, at that time, as it is now; and it was, in
truth, something for three American lads, all under nineteen, to be
able to say that they had seen a State, other than their own.
Notwithstanding the rapid progress we had made for the first few hours
of our undertaking, the voyage was far from being ended. About noon
the wind came out light from the southward, and, having a flood-tide,
we were compelled to anchor. This made us all uneasy, for, while we
were stationary, we did not seem to be running away. The ebb came
again, at length, however, and then we made sail, and began to turn
down with the tide. It was near sunset before we got a view of the two
or three spires that then piloted strangers to the town. New York was
not the "commercial emporium" in 1796; so high-sounding a title,
indeed, scarce belonging to the simple English of the period, it
requiring a very great collection of half-educated men to venture on
so ambitious an appellation--the only emporium that existed in
America, during the last century, being a slop-shop in Water street,
and on the island of Manhattan. _Commercial_ emporium was a
flight of fancy, indeed, that must have required a whole board of
aldermen, and an extra supply of turtle, to sanction. What is meant by
a _literary_ emporium, I leave those editors who are "native and
to the _manor_ born," to explain.
We first saw the State Prison, which was then new, and a most imposing
edifice, according to our notions, as we drew near the town. Like the
gallows first seen by a traveller in entering a strange country, it
was a pledge of civilization. Neb shook his head, as he gazed at it,
with a moralizing air, and said it had a "wicked look." For myself, I
own I did not regard it altogether without dread. On Rupert it made
less impression than on any of the three. He was always somewhat
obtuse on the subject of morals.[*]
[Footnote *: It may be well to tell the European who shall happen to
read this book, that in America a "State's Prison" is not for
prisoners of State, but for common rogues: the term coming from the
name borne by the local governments.]
New York, in that day, and on the Hudson side of the town, commenced a
short distance above Duane street. Between Greenwich, as the little
hamlet around the State Prison was called, and the town proper, was an
interval of a mile and a half of open fields, dotted here and there
with country-houses. Much of this space was in broken hills, and a few
piles of lumber lay along the shores. St. John's church had no
existence, and most of the ground in its vicinity was in low swamp. As
we glided along the wharves, we caught sight of the first market I had
then ever seen--such proofs of an advanced civilization not having yet
made their way into the villages of the interior. It was called "The
Bear," from the circumstance that the first meat ever exposed for sale
in it was of that animal; but the appellation has disappeared before
the intellectual refinement of these later times--the name of the
soldier and statesman, Washington, having fairly supplanted that of
the bear! Whether this great moral improvement was brought about by
the Philosophical Society, or the Historical Society, or "The
Merchants," or the Aldermen of New York, I have never ascertained. If
the latter, one cannot but admire their disinterested modesty in
conferring this notable honour on the Father of his country, inasmuch
as all can see that there never has been a period when their own board
has not possessed distinguished members, every way qualified to act as
god-fathers to the most illustrious markets of the republic. But
Manhattan, in the way of taste, has never had justice done it. So
profound is its admiration for all the higher qualities, that Franklin
and Fulton have each a market to himself, in addition to this bestowed
on Washington. Doubtless there would have been Newton Market, and
Socrates Market, and Solomon Market, but for the patriotism of the
town, which has forbidden it from going out of the hemisphere, in
quest of names to illustrate. Bacon Market would doubtless have been
too equivocal to be tolerated, under any circumstances. Then Bacon was
a rogue, though a philosopher, and markets are always appropriated to
honest people. At all events, I am rejoiced the reproach of having a
market called "The Bear" has been taken away, as it was tacitly
admitting our living near, if not absolutely in, the woods.
We passed the Albany basin, a large receptacle for North River craft,
that is now in the bosom of the town and built on, and recognized in
it the mast-head of the Wallingford. Neb was shown the place, for he
was to bring the boat round to it, and join the sloop, in readiness to
return in her. We rounded the Battery, then a circular stripe of
grass, with an earthen and wooden breastwork running along the margin
of the water, leaving a narrow promenade on the exterior. This
brought us to White-Hall, since so celebrated for its oarsmen, where
we put in for a haven. I had obtained the address of a better sort of
sailor-tavern in that vicinity, and, securing the boat, we shouldered
the bags, got a boy to guide us, and were soon housed. As it was near
night, Rupert and I ordered supper, and Neb was directed to pull the
boat round to the sloop, and to return to us in the morning; taking
care, however, not to let our lodgings be known.
The next day, I own I thought but little of the girls, Clawbonny, or
Mr. Hardinge. Neb was at my bed-side before I was up, and reported the
Grace & Lucy safe alongside of the Wallingford, and expressed himself
ready to wait on me in my progress in quest of a ship. As this was the
moment of action, little was said, but we all breakfasted, and sallied
forth, in good earnest, on the important business before us. Neb was
permitted to follow, but at such a distance as to prevent his being
suspected of belonging to our party--a gentleman, with a serving-man
at his heels, not being the candidate most likely to succeed in his
application for a berth in the forecastle.
So eager was I to belong to some sea-going craft, that I would not
stop even to look at the wonders of the town, before we took the
direction of the wharves. Rupert was for pursuing a different policy,
having an inherent love of the genteeler gaieties of a town, but I
turned a deaf ear to his hints, and this time I was master. He
followed me with some reluctance, but follow he did, after some
remonstrances that bordered on warmth. Any inexperienced eye that had
seen us passing, would have mistaken us for two well-looking, smart
young sailor-boys, who had just returned from a profitable voyage, and
who, well-clad, tidy and semi-genteel, were strolling along the
wharves as _admirateurs_, not to say critics, of the craft.
_Admirateurs_ we were, certainly, or _I_ was, at least;
though knowledge was a point on which we Were sadly deficient.
The trade of America was surprisingly active in 1797. It had been
preyed upon by the two great belligerents of the period, England and
France, it is true; and certain proceedings of the latter nation were
about to bring the relations of the two countries into a very
embarrassed state; but still the shipping interest was wonderfully
active, and, as a whole, singularly successful. Almost every tide
brought in or took out ships for foreign ports, and scarce a week
passed that vessels did not arrive from, or sail for, all the
different quarters of the world. An Indiaman, however, was our object;
the voyage being longer, the ships better, and the achievement
greater, than merely to cross the Atlantic and return. We accordingly
proceeded towards the Fly Market, in the vicinity of which, we had
been given to understand, some three or four vessels of that
description were fitting out. This market has since used its wings to
disappear, altogether.
I kept my eyes on every ship we passed. Until the previous day, I had
never seen a square-rigged vessel; and no enthusiast in the arts ever
gloated on a fine picture or statue with greater avidity than my soul
drank in the wonder and beauty of every ship I passed. I had a large,
full-rigged model at Clawbonny; and this I had studied under my father
so thoroughly, as to know the name of every rope in it, and to have
some pretty distinct notions of their uses. This early schooling was
now of great use to me, though I found it a little difficult, at
first, to trace my old acquaintances on the large scale in which they
now presented themselves, and amid the intricate mazes that were drawn
against the skies. The braces, shrouds, stays and halyards, were all
plain enough, and I could point to either, at a moment's notice; but
when it came to the rest of the running rigging, I found it necessary
to look a little, before I could speak with certainty.
Eager as I was to ship, the indulgence of gazing at all I saw was so
attractive, that it was noon before we reached an Indiaman. This was a
pretty little ship of about four hundred tons, that was called the
John. Little I say, for such she would now be thought, though a vessel
of her size was then termed large. The Manhattan, much the largest
ship out of the port, measured but about seven hundred tons; while few
even of the Indiamen went much beyond five hundred. I can see the
John at this moment, near fifty years after I first laid eyes on her,
as she then appeared. She was not bright-sided, but had a narrow,
cream-coloured streak, broken into ports. She was a straight,
black-looking craft, with a handsome billet, low, thin bulwarks, and
waistcloths secured to ridge-ropes. Her larger spars were painted the
same colour as her streak, and her stern had a few ornaments of a
similar tint.
We went on board the John, where we found the officers just topping
off with the riggers and stevedores, having stowed all the provisions
and water, and the mere trifle of cargo she carried. The mate, whose
name was Marble, and a well-veined bit of marble he was, his face
resembling a map that had more rivers drawn on it than the land could
feed, winked at the captain and nodded his head towards us as soon as
we met his eye. The latter smiled, but did not speak.
"Walk this way, gentlemen--walk this way, if you please," said
Mr. Marble, encouragingly, passing a ball of spun-yarn, all the while,
to help a rigger serve a rope. "When did you leave the country?"
This produced a general laugh, even the yellow rascal of a mulatto,
who was passing into the cabin with some crockery, grinning in our
faces at this salutation. I saw it was now or never, and determined
not to be brow-beaten, while I was too truthful to attempt to pass for
that I was not.
"We left home last night, thinking to be in time to find berths in one
of the Indiamen that is to sail this week."
"Not _this_ week, my son--not till _next_," said Mr. Marble,
jocularly. "Sunday is _the_ day. We run from Sunday to Sunday--the
better day, the better deed, you know. How did you leave father and
mother?"
"I have neither," I answered, almost choked. "My mother died a few
months since, and my father, Captain Wallingford, has now been dead
some years."
The master of the John was a man of about fifty, red-faced,
hard-looking, pock-marked, square-rigged, and of an exterior that
promised anything but sentiment. Feeling, however, he did manifest,
the moment I mentioned my father's name. He ceased his employment,
came close to me, gazed earnestly in my face, and even looked kind.
"Are you a son of Captain Miles Wallingford?" he asked in a low
voice--"of Miles Wallingford, from up the river?"
"I am, sir; his only son. He left but two of us, a son and a daughter;
and, though under no necessity to work at all, I wish to make this
Miles Wallingford as good a seaman as the last, and, I hope, as honest
a man."
This was said manfully, and with a spirit that must have pleased; for
I was shaken cordially by the hand, welcomed on board, invited into
the cabin, and asked to take a seat at a table on which the dinner had
just been placed. Rupert, of course, shared in all these favours. Then
followed the explanations. Captain Robbins, of the John, had first
gone to sea with my father, for whom I believe he entertained a
profound respect. He had even served with him once as mate, and talked
as if he felt that he had been under obligations to him. He did not
question me very closely, seeming to think it natural enough that
Miles Wallingford's only son should wish to be a seaman.
As we sat at the table, even, it was agreed that Rupert and I should
join the ship, as green hands, the very next morning, signing the
articles as soon as we went on shore. This was done accordingly, and
I had the felicity of writing Miles Wallingford to the roll
d'equipage, to the tune of eighteen dollars per month--seamen then
actually receiving thirty and thirty-five dollars per month--wages.
Rupert was taken also, though Captain Robbins cut _him_ down to
thirteen dollars, saying, in a jesting way, that a parson's son could
hardly be worth as much as the son of one of the best old ship-masters
who ever sailed out of America. He was a shrewd observer of men and
things, this new friend of mine, and I believe understood "by the cut
of his jib" that Rupert was not likely to make a weather-earing
man. The money, however, was not of much account in our calculations;
and lucky enough did I think myself in finding so good a berth, almost
as soon as looked for. We returned to the tavern and staid that night,
taking a formal leave of Neb, who was to carry the good news home, as
soon as the sloop should sail.
In the morning a cart was loaded with our effects, the bill was
discharged, and we left the tavern. I had the precaution not to go
directly alongside the ship. On the contrary, we proceeded to an
opposite part of the town, placing the bags on a wharf resorted to by
craft from New Jersey, as if we intended to go on board one of
them. The cartman took his quarter, and drove off, troubling himself
very little about the future movements of two young sailors. Waiting
half an hour, another cart was called, when we went to the John, and
were immediately installed in her forecastle. Captain Robbins had
provided us both with chests, paid for out of the three months'
advance, and in them we found the slops necessary for so long a
voyage. Rupert and I immediately put on suits of these new clothes,
with regular little round tarpaulins, which so much altered us in
appearance, even from those produced by our Ulster county fittings,
that we scarce knew each other.
Rupert now went on deck to lounge and smoke a segar, while I went
aloft, visiting every yard, and touching all three of the trucks,
before I returned from this, my exploring expedition. The captain and
mates and riggers smiled at my movements, and I overheard the former
telling his mate that I was "old Miles over again." In a word, all
parties seemed pleased with the arrangement that had been made; I had
told the officers aft of my knowledge of the names and uses of most of
the ropes; and never did I feel so proud as when Mr. Marble called
out, in a loud tone--
"D'ye hear there, Miles--away aloft and unreeve them fore-top-gallant
halyards, and send an end down to haul up this new rope, to reeve a
fresh set."
Away I went, my head buzzing with the complicated order, and yet I had
a very tolerable notion of what was to be done. The unreeving might
have been achieved by any one, and I got through with that without
difficulty; and, the mate himself helping me and directing me from the
deck, the new rope was rove with distinguished success. This was the
first duty I ever did in a ship, and I was prouder of it than of any
that was subsequently performed by the same individual. The whole time
I was thus occupied, Rupert stood lounging against the foot of the
main-stay, smoking his segar like a burgomaster. His turn came next,
however, the captain sending for him to the cabin, where he set him at
work to copy some papers. Rupert wrote a beautiful hand, and he wrote
rapidly. That evening I heard the chief-mate tell the dickey that the
parson's son was likely to turn out a regular "barber's clerk" to the
captain. "The old man," he added, "makes so many traverses himself on
a bit of paper, that he hardly knows at which end to begin to read it;
and I shouldn't wonder if he just stationed this chap, with a quill
behind his ear, for the v'y'ge."
For the next two or three days I was delightfully busy, passing half
the time aloft. All the sails were to be bent, and I had my full share
in the performance of this duty. I actually furled the mizen-royal
with my own hands--the ship carrying standing royals--and it was said
to be very respectably done; a little rag-baggish in the bunt,
perhaps, but secured in a way that took the next fellow who touched
the gasket five minutes to cast the sail loose. Then it rained, and
sails were to be loosened to dry. I let everything fall forward with
my own hands, and, when we came to roll up the canvass again, I
actually managed all three of the royals alone; one at a time, of
course. My father had taught me to make a flat-knot, a bowline, a
clove-hitch, two half-hitches, and such sort of things; and I got
through with both a long and a short splice tolerably well. I found
all this, and the knowledge I had gained from my model-ship at home of
great use to me; so much so, indeed, as to induce even that indurated
bit of mortality, Marble, to say I "was the ripest piece of green
stuff he had ever fallen in with."
All this time, Rupert was kept at quill-driving. Once he got leave to
quit the ship--it was the day before we sailed--and I observed he went
ashore in his long-togs, of which each of us had one suit. I stole
away the same afternoon to find the post-office, and worked up-stream
as far as Broadway, not knowing exactly which way to shape my course.
In that day, everybody who was anybody, and unmarried, promenaded the
west side of this street, from the Battery to St. Paul's Church,
between the hours of twelve and half-past two, wind and weather
permitting. There I saw Rupert, in his country guise, nothing
remarkable, of a certainty, strutting about with the best of them, and
looking handsome in spite of his rusticity. It was getting late, and
he left the street just as I saw him. I followed, waiting until we got
to a private place before I would speak to him, however, as I knew he
would be mortified to be taken for the friend of a Jack-tar, in such a
scene.
Rupert entered a door, and then reappeared with a letter in his
hand. He, too, had gone to the post-office, and I no longer hesitated
about joining him.
"Is it from Clawbonny?" I asked, eagerly. "If so, from Lucy,
doubtless?"
"From Clawbonny--but from Grace," he answered, with a slight change of
colour. "I desired the poor girl to let me know how things passed off,
after we left them; and as for Lucy, her pot-hooks are so much out of
the way, I never want to see them."
I felt hurt, offended, that my sister should write to any youngster
but myself. It is true, the letter was to a bosom friend, a
co-adventurer, one almost a child of the same family; and I had come
to the office expecting to get a letter from Rupert's sister, who had
promised, while weeping on the wharf, to do exactly the same thing for
me; but there _is_ a difference between one's sister writing to
another young man, and another young man's sister writing to
oneself. I cannot even now explain it; but that there _is_ a
difference I am sure. Without asking to see a line that Grace had
written, I went into the office, and returned in a minute or two, with
an air of injured dignity, holding Lucy's epistle in my hand.
After all, there was nothing in either letter to excite much
sensibility. Each was written with the simplicity, truth and feeling
of a generous-minded, warm-hearted female friend, of an age not to
distrust her own motives, to a lad who bad no right to view the favour
other than it was, as an evidence of early and intimate friendship.
Both epistles are now before me, and I copy them, as the shortest way
of letting the reader know the effect our disappearance had produced
at Clawbonny. That of Grace was couched in the following terms:
DEAR RUPERT:
Clawbonny was in commotion at nine o'clock this morning, and well it
might be! When your father's anxiety got to be painful, I told him the
whole, and gave him the letters. I am sorry to say, he wept. I wish
never to see such a sight again. The tears of two such silly girls as
Lucy and I, are of little account--but, Rupert, to behold an aged man
we love and respect like him, a minister of the gospel too, in tears!
It was a hard sight to bear. He did not reproach us for our silence,
saying he did not see, after our promises, how we could well do
otherwise. I gave your reasons about "responsibility in the premises;"
but I don't think he understood them. Is it too late to return? The
boat that carried you down can bring you back; and oh! how much
rejoiced shall we all be to see you! Wherever you go, and whatever you
do, boys, for I write as much to one as to the other, and only address
to Rupert because he so earnestly desired it; but wherever you go, and
whatever you do, remember the instructions you have both received in
youth, and how much all of us are interested in your conduct and
happiness.
Affectionately, yours,
GRACE WALLINGFORD.
To Mr. Rupert Hardinge.
Lucy had been less guarded, and possibly a little more honest. She
wrote as follows:
DEAR MILES:
I believe I cried for one whole hour after you and Rupert left us,
and, now it is all over, I am vexed at having cried so much about two
such foolish fellows. Grace has told you all about my dear, dear
father, who cried too. I declare, I don't know when I was so
frightened! I thought it _must_ bring you back, as soon as you
hear of it. What will be done, I do not know; but _something_, I
am certain Whenever father is in earnest, he says but little. I know
he is in earnest _now_. I believe Grace and I do nothing but
think of you; that is, she of _you_, and I of Rupert; and a
little the other way, too--so now you have the whole truth. Do not
fail, on any account, to write before you go to sea, if you _do_
go to sea, as I hope and trust you will not.
Good-bye.
LUCY HARDINGE.
To Mr. Miles Wallingford.
P.S. Neb's mother protests, if the boy is not home by Saturday night,
she will go after him. No such disgrace as a runaway ever befel her or
hers, and she says she will not submit to it. But I suppose we shall
see _him_ soon, and with him _letters_.
Now, Neb had taken his leave, but no letter had been trusted to his
care. As often happens, I regretted the mistake when it was too late;
and all that day I thought how disappointed Lucy would be, when she
came to see the negro empty-handed. Rupert and I parted in the street,
as he did not wish to walk with a sailor, while in his own long-togs.
He did not _say_ as much; but I knew him well enough to ascertain
it, without his speaking. I was walking very fast in the direction of
the ship, and had actually reached the wharves, when, in turning a
corner, I came plump upon Mr. Hardinge. My guardian was walking
slowly, his face sorrowful and dejected, and his eyes fastened on
every ship he passed, as if looking for his boys. He saw me, casting a
vacant glance over my person; but I was so much changed by dress, and
particularly by the little tarpaulin, that he did not know me. Anxiety
immediately drew his look towards the vessels, and I passed him
unobserved. Mr. Hardinge was walking _from_, and I _towards_
the John, and of course all my risk terminated as soon as out of
sight.
That evening I had the happiness of being under-way, in a real
full-rigged ship. It is true, it was under very short canvass, and
merely to go into the stream. Taking advantage of a favourable wind
and tide, the John left the wharf under her jib, main-top-mast
staysail, and spanker, and dropped down as low as the Battery, when
she sheered into the other channel and anchored. Here I was, then,
fairly at anchor in the stream, Half a mile from any land but the
bottom, and burning to see the ocean. That afternoon the crew came on
board, a motley collection, of lately drunken seamen, of whom about
half were Americans, and the rest natives of as many different
countries as there were men. Mr. Marble scanned them with a knowing
look, and, to my surprise, he told the captain there was good stuff
among them. It seems he was a better judge than I was myself, for a
more unpromising set of wretches, as to looks, I never saw grouped
together. A few, it is true, appeared well enough; but most of them
had the air of having been dragged through--a place I will not name,
though it is that which sailors usually quote when describing
themselves on such occasions. But Jack, after he has been a week at
sea, and Jack coming on board to duty, after a month of excesses on
shore, are very different creatures, morally and physically.
I now began to regret that I had not seen a little of the town. In
1797, New York could not have had more than fifty thousand
inhabitants, though it was just as much of a paragon then, in the eyes
of all good Americans, as it is today. It is a sound patriotic rule
to maintain that _our_ best is always _the_ best, for it
never puts us in the wrong. I have seen enough of the world since to
understand that we get a great many things wrong-end foremost, in this
country of ours; undervaluing those advantages and excellencies of
which we have great reason to be proud, and boasting of others that,
to say the least, are exceedingly equivocal. But it takes time to
learn all this, and I have no intention of getting ahead of my story,
or of my country; the last being a most suicidal act.
We received the crew of a Saturday afternoon, and half of them turned
in immediately. Rupert and I had a good berth, intending to turn in
and out together, during the voyage; and this made us rather
indifferent to the movements of the rest of our extraordinary
associates. The kid, at supper, annoyed us both a little; the notion
of seeing one's food in a round _trough_, to be tumbled over and
cut from by all hands, being particularly disagreeable to those who
have been accustomed to plates, knives and forks, and such other
superfluities. I confess I thought of Grace's and Lucy's little white
hands, and of silver sugrar-toogs, and of clean plates and glasses,
and table-cloths--napkins and silver forks were then unknown in
America, except on the very best tables, and not always on them,
unless on high days and holidays--as we were going through the
unsophisticated manipulations of this first supper. Forty-seven years
have elapsed, and the whole scene is as vivid to my mind at this
moment, as if it occurred last night. I wished myself one of the
long-snouted tribe, several times, in order to be in what is called
"keeping."
I had the honour of keeping an anchor-watch in company with a grum old
Swede, as we lay in the Hudson. The wind was light, and the ship had a
good berth, so my associate chose a soft plank, told me to give him a
call should anything happen, and lay down to sleep away his two hours
in comfort. Not so with me. I strutted the deck with as much
importance as if the weight of the State lay on my shoulders--paid a
visit every five minutes to the bows, to see that the cable had not
parted, and that the anchor did not "come home"--and then looked
aloft, to ascertain that everything was in its place. Those were a
happy two hours!
About ten next morning, being Sunday, and, as Mr. Marble expressed it,
"the better day, the better deed," the pilot came off, and all hands
were called to "up anchor." The cook, cabin-boy, Rupert and I, were
entrusted with the duty of "fleeting jig" and breaking down the coils
of the cable, the handspikes requiring heavier hands than ours. The
anchor was got in without any difficulty, however, when Rupert and I
were sent aloft to loose the fore-top-sail. Rupert got into the top
via the lubber's hole, I am sorry to say, and the loosing of the sail
on both yard-arms fell to my duty. A hand was on the fore-yard, and I
was next ordered up to loose the top-gallant-sail. Canvass began to
fall and open all over the ship, the top-sails were mast-headed, and,
as I looked down from the fore-top-mast cross-trees, where I remained
to overhaul the clew-lines, I saw that the ship was falling off, and
that her sails were filling with a stiff north-west breeze. Just as my
whole being was entranced with the rapture of being under-way for
Canton, which was then called the Indies, Rupert called out to me from
the top. Ha was pointing at some object on the water, and, turning, I
saw a boat within a hundred feet of the ship. In her was Mr.
Hardinge, who at that moment caught sight of us. But the ship's sails
were now all full, and no one on deck saw, or at least heeded, the
boat. The John glided past it, and, the last I saw of my venerated
guardian, he was standing erect, bare-headed, holding both arms
extended, as if entreating us not to desert him! Presently the ship
fell off so much, that the after-sails hid him from my view.
I descended into the top, where I found Rupert had shrunk down out of
sight, looking frightened and guilty. As for myself, I got behind the
head of the mast, and fairly sobbed. This lasted a few minutes, when
an order from the mate called us both below. When I reached the deck,
the boat was already a long distance astern, and had evidently given
up the idea of boarding us. I do not know whether I felt the most
relieved or pained by the certainty of this fact.