It was near night when we arrived at the farm; and I took care during
the remainder of the evening to act as naturally as if there was nothing
unusual in my thoughts. Little dreamt my relatives and the domestics of
the farmhouse--little dreamt they of the big design that lay hid within
my bosom, and which at intervals, when I reflected upon it, caused my
heart to heave again.
There were moments when I half repented of my purpose. When I looked
upon the familiar faces of home--for after all it was home--the only
home I had--when I reflected that I might never see those faces again;
when I reflected that some of them might grieve for me--some I knew,
_would_ grieve--when I pondered upon the deception I was practising upon
all of them, I in full possession of a design of which they knew
nothing; I say when these thoughts were in my mind, I half repented of
my purpose. I would have given the world for a confidant, while thus
wavering; and no doubt, had I had one who would have advised me against
going, I should have remained at home--at least, for that time--though,
in the end, my wayward and aquatic nature would have carried me to sea
all the same.
You will, no doubt, think it strange that under these circumstances I
did not seek out Harry Blew, and take his advice. Ah! that is just what
I should have done, had Harry been within reach, but he was not: the
young waterman was a waterman no more. He had become tired of that sort
of life months ago, had sold his boat, and gone off as a regular sailor
_before the mast_. Perhaps if Harry Blew had been still at home, I
should not have so much wished to go abroad; but from the time that he
left, I longed every day to follow his example; and whenever I looked
seaward over the bay, it was with a yearning that it would be impossible
to explain. A prisoner, looking through the bars of his prison, could
not have felt a greater longing to be free, than I to be away, far away,
upon the bosom of the bright ocean. Had the young waterman only been
there to counsel me, perhaps I might have acted differently; but he, my
best friend, was gone.
And now I had no confidant to whom I might impart my secret. There was
one young fellow, a farm-servant, whom I thought I might have trusted.
I was fond of him, and I believe I was a favourite with him as well.
Twenty times I had it on my tongue's end to tell him of my intention,
but as often I checked myself. I did not fear that he would betray me,
provided I gave up my design of running away; but I fancied he would
advise me against it, and in the event of my persisting, _then_ he might
betray me. It would be of no use, therefore, seeking counsel from him,
and I kept the design to myself.