No; the warning was all in vain. Even the narrow escape I had had, did
not cure me of my fondness for being on the water, but rather had an
opposite effect.
The acquaintance thus singularly formed between the young waterman and
myself, soon ripened into a strong feeling of friendship. His name, as
I have said, was Harry Blew, and--if I may be allowed to play upon the
word--he was "true blue," for he was gifted with a heart as kind as it
was brave. I need hardly add that I grew vastly fond of him, and he
appeared to reciprocate the feeling, for he acted towards me from that
time forward as if I had saved _his_ life, instead of its being the
other way. He took great pains to make me perfect in swimming; and he
also taught me the use of the oar; so that in a short time I was able to
row in a very creditable manner, and far better than any boy of my age
or size. I even attained to such proficiency that I could manage a pair
of oars, and pull about without any assistance from my instructor. This
I esteemed a great feat, and I was not a little proud when I was
entrusted (as was frequently the case) to take the young waterman's boat
from the little cove where he kept her, to some point on the beach where
he might be waiting to take up a fare. Perhaps in passing an anchored
sloop, or near the beach, where some people might be sauntering, I may
have heard remarks made in a sneering tone, such as, "You are a queer
chap to be handlin' a pair o' oars!" or, "Oh, jimminy! Look at that
millikin pin, boys!" And then I could hear other jeers mingled with
shouts of laughter. But this did not mortify me in the least. On the
contrary, I felt proud to show them that, small as I was, I could propel
my craft in the right direction, and perhaps as rapidly as many of them
that were even twice my size.
After a time I heard no more of these taunts, unless now and then from
some stranger to the place. The people of our village soon learned how
well I could manage a boat; and small as I was, they held me in
respect--at all events, they no longer jeered at me. Often they would
call me the "little waterman," or the "young sailor," or still oftener
was I known by the name of the "Boy Tar." It was my father's design
that, like himself, I should follow the sea as a calling; and had he
lived to make another voyage, it was his intention to have taken me away
with him. I was encouraged, therefore, in these ideas; and moreover, my
mother always dressed me in sailor costume of the most approved
pattern--blue cloth jacket and trousers, with black silk handkerchief
and folding collar. Of all this I was very proud, and it was my costume
as much as aught else, that led to my receiving the _soubriquet_ of the
"Boy Tar." This title pleased me best of any, for it was Harry Blew
that first bestowed it on me, and from the day that he saved me from
drowning, I regarded him as my true friend and protector.
He was at this time rather a prosperous young fellow, himself owner of
his boat--nay, better still, he had two boats. One was much bigger than
the other--the yawl, as he styled her--and this was the one he mostly
used, especially when three or four persons wanted a sail. The lesser
boat was a little "dinghy" he had just purchased, and which for
convenience he took with him when his fare was only a single passenger,
since the labour of rowing it was much less. In the watering season,
however, the larger boat was more often required; since parties of
pleasure were out every day in it, and at such times the little one lay
idle at its moorings. I was then welcome to the use of it for my own
pleasure, and could take it when I liked, either by myself or with a
companion, if I chose to have one. It became my custom, therefore,
after school hours, or indeed whenever I had any spare time, to be off
to the dinghy, and rowing it all about the harbour. I was rarely
without a companion--for more than one of my schoolfellows relished this
sort of thing--and many of them even envied me the fine privilege I had
in being almost absolute master of a boat. Of course, whenever I
desired company, I had no need to go alone; it was not often that I was
so. Some one or other of the boys was my companion on every excursion
that was made, and these were almost daily--at least, every day on which
the weather was calm enough to allow of it. With such a small
cockleshell of a boat, we dared not go out when it was not calm; and
with regard to this, I had been duly cautioned by Henry Blew himself.
Our excursions only extended to a short distance from the village,
usually up the bay, though sometimes down, but I always took care to
keep near the shore, and never ventured far out, lest the little boat
might be caught in a squall and get me into danger.
As time passed on, however, I grew less timid, and began to feel more at
home on the wide water. Then I extended my excursions sometimes as far
as a mile from the shore, and thought nothing of it. My friend, the
waterman, seeing me on one of these far voyages, repeated his former
caution, but it might have had a more salutary effect had I not
overheard him, the moment after, observe to one of his companions:--
"Wonderful boy! ain't he, Bob? Come of the true stock--make the right
sort of a sailor, if ever he grows big enough."
This remark led me to think that I had not much displeased my patron in
what I had done; and therefore his caution "to keep close in-shore"
produced very little effect on me.
It was not a long time before I quite disobeyed it; and the
disobedience, as you shall hear, very nigh cost me my life.
But first let me tell of a circumstance that occurred at this date, and
which quite changed the current of my existence. It was a great
misfortune that befell me--the loss of both my parents.
I have said that my father was a seaman by profession. He was the
master of a ship that traded, I believe, to the colonies of America, and
so little was he at home from the time I was old enough to remember,
that I scarce recollected him more than just what he was like--and that
was a fine, manly, sailor-looking man, with a face bronzed by the
weather until it was nearly of a copper colour, but for all that a
handsome and cheerful face.
My mother must have thought so too, for from the time that news arrived
that his ship was wrecked and he himself drowned, she was never herself
again. She seemed to pine away, as if she did not wish to live longer,
but was desirous of joining him in the other world. If such were her
wishes, it was not long before they were gratified; for in a very few
weeks after the terrible news had reached us, my poor mother was carried
to her grave.
These were the circumstances that changed the current of my existence.
Even my mode of life was no longer the same. I was now an orphan,
without means and without a home; for, as my parents had been without
any fortune, and subsisted entirely upon the hard earnings of my
father's trade, no provision had been made against such an unexpected
event as my brave father's death, and even my mother had been left
almost penniless. Perhaps it was a merciful providence that called her
away from a world that to her was no longer a place of enjoyment; and
although I long lamented my dear kind mother, in after years I could not
help thinking that it was her happier destiny that at that time she had
been summoned away. Long, long years it was before I could have done
anything to aid or protect her--during the chill cold winter of poverty
that must have been her portion.
To me the events brought consequences of the most serious kind. I found
a home, it is true, but a very different one from that to which I had
all along been used. I was taken to live with an uncle, who, although
my mother's own brother, had none of her tender or affectionate
feelings; on the contrary, he was a man of morose disposition and coarse
habits, and I soon found that I was but little more cared for than any
one of his servants, for I was treated just as they.
My school-days were at an end, for I was no more sent to school from the
day I entered my uncle's house. Not that I was allowed to go about
idle. My uncle was a farmer, and soon found a use for me; so that
between running after pigs and cattle, and driving the plough horses, or
tending upon a flock of sheep, or feeding calves, or a hundred other
little matters, I was kept busy from sunrise till sunset of every day in
the week. Upon Sundays only was I permitted to rest--not that my uncle
was at all religious, but that it was a custom of the place that there
should be no work done on the Sabbath. This custom was strictly
observed by everybody belonging to the village, and my uncle was
compelled to follow the common rule; otherwise, I believe, he would have
made Sunday a day of work as well as any other.
My uncle, not having any care for religion, I was not sent to church,
but was left free to wander idle about the fields, or indeed wherever I
chose to go. You may be sure I did not choose to stop among the hedges
and ditches. The blue sea that lay beyond, had far more attractions for
me than birds-nesting, or any other rural amusement; and the moment I
could escape from the house I was off to my favourite element, either to
accompany my friend, Harry Blew, in some of his boating trips, or to get
possession of the "dinghy," and have a row on my own account. Thus,
then, were my Sundays passed.
While my mother was living, I had been taught to regard this idle way of
spending Sunday as sinful; but the example which I had before me in my
uncle's life, soon led me to form other ideas upon this matter, and I
came to regard the Lord's Day as only differing from any other of the
week in its being by far the pleasantest.
One Sunday, however, proved anything but pleasant. So far from it, that
it came very near being the most painful as well as the _last_ day of my
life--which was once more imperilled by my favourite element--the water.