I did not do so because I had been treated unkindly at home. On the
contrary, I left behind me a fond and indulgent father, a kind and
gentle mother, sisters and brothers who loved me, and who lamented for
me long after I was gone.
But no one had more cause to regret this act of filial disobedience than
I myself. I soon repented of what I had done, and often, in after life,
did it give me pain, when I reflected upon the pain I had caused to my
kindred and friends.
From my earliest years I had a longing for the sea--perhaps not so much
to be a sailor, as to travel over the great ocean, and behold its
wonders. This longing seemed to be part of my nature, for my parents
gave no encouragement to such a disposition. On the contrary, they did
all in their power to beget within me a dislike for a sea life, as my
father had designed for me a far different profession. But the counsels
of my father, and the entreaties of my mother all proved unavailing.
Indeed--and I feel shame in acknowledging it--they produced an effect
directly opposite to that which was intended; and, instead of lessening
my inclination to wander abroad, they only rendered me more eager to
carry out that design! It is often so with obstinate natures, and I
fear that, when a boy, mine was too much of this character. Most to
desire that which is most forbidden, is a common failing of mankind; and
in doing this, I was perhaps not so unlike others.
Certain it is, that the thing which my parents least desired me to feel
an interest in--the great salt sea--was the very object upon which my
mind constantly dwelt--the object of all my longings and aspirations.
I cannot tell what first imbued me with a liking for the sea, for I had
such a liking almost from the years of childhood. I was born upon the
sea-shore, and this fact might explain it; for, during my early life,
when I was still but a mere child, I used to sit at the window and look
with admiring eyes on the boats with their white sails, and the
beautiful ships with their tall tapering masts, that were constantly
passing and repassing. How could I do otherwise than admire these grand
and glorious structures--so strong and so graceful? How could it be
otherwise, than that I should imbibe a longing to be on board of them,
and be carried afar over yonder bright blue water?
As I grew older, certain books had chanced to fall into my hands, and
these related to the sea--they told of lovely lands that lay upon its
shores--of strange races of men and animals--of singular plants and
trees--of palms and broad-leaved figs--of the banyan and the baobab--of
many things beautiful and wonderful. These books strengthened the
inclination I already felt to wander abroad over the ocean.
Another circumstance aided in bringing about the climax. I had an uncle
who had been an old skipper--that is, the master of a merchant-ship--and
it was the delight of this old gentleman to assemble his nephews around
him--there was a goodly number of us--and tell us tales of the sea, to
which all were ever eager to listen. Many a budget did he deliver by
the winter fireside--for, like the storyteller of the "Arabian Nights,"
a thousand and one tales could he tell--stories of desperate adventures
by flood and field--of storms, hurricanes, and shipwrecks--long voyages
in open boats--encounters with pirates and Indians--battles with sharks,
and seals, and whales bigger than houses--terrible conflicts with wild
beasts--as bears, wolves, lions, and tigers! All these adventures had
our old uncle encountered, or said he had, which to his admiring
audience was pretty much the same thing.
After listening to such thrilling narrations, no wonder I became tired
of home, no wonder my natural inclination grew into a passion I could no
longer resist. No wonder I ran away to sea.
And I did so at the age of sixteen--the wonder is I did not go sooner,
but it was no fault of mine that I did not; for from the time I was able
to talk I had been constantly importuning my parents for leave to go. I
knew they could easily have found a situation for me, had they been so
minded. They could have bound me as an apprentice on board some of the
great merchant vessels sailing for India, or they could have entered me
in the Royal Navy as a midshipman, for they were not without high
interest; but neither father nor mother would lend an ear to my
entreaties.
At length, convinced they would never consent, I resolved upon running
away; and, from the age of fourteen, had repeatedly offered myself on
board the ships that traded to the neighbouring seaport, but I was too
small a boy, and none of them would take me. Some of the captains
refused because they knew I had not the consent of my parents; and these
were the very kind with whom I should have preferred going; since the
fact of their being such conscientious men, would have ensured me good
treatment. But as these refused to take me I had no other resource but
to try elsewhere, and I at length succeeded in striking a bargain with a
skipper who had no scruples about the matter, and I was booked as an
apprentice. He knew I was about to run away; and more than this,
assisted in the design by letting me know the exact day and hour he was
to take his departure from the port.
And I was aboard at the time specified; and before any search could have
been made for me, or even before I could have been missed, the vessel
had tripped her anchor, spread her sails, and carried me off beyond the
possibility of pursuit.