Once more upon the waters.
BYRON.
As Newton had lost his credentials from Captain Northfleet, as well as
the vessel confided to his charge, he did not consider it necessary to
pay his respects to the port admiral at Plymouth. On the contrary, he
set off as fast as his legs could carry him to Liverpool, to ascertain
the condition of his father. We shall pass over the difficulties he
experienced on his journey. There is no country where travelling is
more easy or more rapid, than in England, provided that you have plenty
of money; but when you travel _in forma pauperis_, there is no country
in which you get on so badly. Parish rates and poor laws have dried up
the sources of benevolence; and as Newton did not apply to the overseers
for his three-half-pence a mile, he got on how he could, which was badly
enough. When at last he did arrive at Liverpool, he found himself a
stone or two the lighter, and would have been pronounced by Captain
Barclay to have been in excellent training.
Newton had written to his father, acquainting him with his impressment;
but was doubtful whether the letter had ever been received, as it had
been confided to the care of one of the women who left the frigate the
evening previous to her sailing. When he arrived at the house he
perceived his father at his bench as usual, but doing nothing, and the
shop windows were bare.
Newton entered, and his father looked up.
"Why, Newton, my dear boy, is it you?" cried Nicholas; "what a long
while you have been away! Well, how is Mr Hilton?--and how is your
poor mother?"
"My dear father," replied Newton, taking his hand, "did not you receive
my letter?"
"No, I received no letter. What a time you have been away I declare it
must be two or three months, or more."
"It is nearly twelve months, my dear father: I was pressed at Bristol,
have been on board of a man-of-war; and have just escaped from a French
prison."
Newton then entered into a narrative of his adventures, to the
astonishment of Nicholas, who heard him with open mouth.
"Dear me! so you've been in a man-of-war, and in France; then you don't
know how your poor mother is?"
"Have you not inquired, my dear father?"
"No, I thought you would come home, and tell me all about it," replied
Nicholas with a sigh.
"How have you got on here?" said Newton, to change the conversation.
"Very bad indeed, Newton--very bad indeed; I have not had six jobs since
you left me."
"I am sorry to hear it, father; have you any thing to eat in the house,
for I am very hungry?"
"I am afraid not much," replied Nicholas, going to the cupboard, and
producing some bread and cheese. "Can you eat bread and cheese, my dear
boy?"
"I could eat a horse, my dear father," replied Newton, who had walked
the last twelve hours without sustenance.
Newton attacked the provender, which soon disappeared.
"I have been obliged to sell most of the shop furniture," said Nicholas,
observing Newton to cast his eyes at the empty window. "I could not
help it. I believe nobody wears spectacles in Liverpool."
"It can't be helped, father; we must hope for better times."
"Yes, we must trust in God, Newton. I sold my watch yesterday, and that
will feed us for some time. A sailor came into the shop, and asked if I
had any watches to sell: I told him that I only repaired them at
present; but that when my improvement in the duplex--" Here Nicholas
forgot the thread of his narrative, and was commencing a calculation
upon his intended improvement, when Newton interrupted him.
"Well, sir, what did the sailor reply?"
"Oh! I forgot; I told him that I had a watch of my own, that I would
part with it, which went very well; and that it would be cheaper to him
than a new one; that it cost fifteen pounds; but I was in want of money,
and would take five pounds for it. He saw how sorry I was to part with
it--and so I was." Here Nicholas thought of his watch, and forgot his
story.
"Well, my dear father," said Newton, "what did he give you for it?"
"Oh!--why, he was a kind good creature, and said that he was not the man
to take advantage of a poor devil in distress, and that I should have
the full value of it. He put the watch in his fob and counted out
fifteen pounds on the counter. I wanted to return part: but he walked
out of the shop, and before I could get round the counter he had got
round the corner of the street."
"'Twas a God-send, my dear father," replied Newton, "for I have not a
halfpenny. Do you know what became of my chest, that I left on board of
the sloop?"
"Dear me! now I think of it, it came here by the waggon. I put it up
stairs. I wondered why you sent it."
Newton having appeased his hunger, went up stairs, and found all his
wearing apparel had been forwarded by Mr Hilton, who supposed him dead,
and that he was enabled to make a more respectable appearance than what
the privateer's people had hitherto permitted him. In a few days he
felt quite recovered from his fatigue, and sallied forth in search of
employment. On the day after his arrival at Liverpool he had written to
the asylum, to inquire the fate of his mother. The answer which he
received was, that Mrs Forster had recovered, and remained many months
in the establishment as nurse; but that ten days back she had quitted
the asylum, and that her address was not known.
Newton, who had no means of prosecuting further inquiry, was obliged to
be satisfied with the intelligence that his mother was alive and well.
He communicated the information to Nicholas, who observed--
"Poor thing; she's looking for us, depend upon it, Newton, and will be
here very soon:" and this expectation was revived whenever Nicholas
thought of his wife; and he continued satisfied.
We must allow many months to pass away in one paragraph--months of
ineffectual struggle against poverty and want of employment, which
Newton made every exertion to obtain as mate of a merchant vessel. The
way in which he had been impressed had caused a dread of the king's
service, which he could not overcome; and although he had but to choose
his ship as a sailor before the mast, he could not prevail upon himself
to accept a berth which was not protected from the impress. Without
recommendation he could not obtain the situation of mate, and he
continued to work as a rigger in the docks, until his hand was
unfortunately severely jammed by the heel of a topmast, and he was laid
up for many weeks. Each day their fare became scantier, and they were
reduced to their last shilling, when Newton was again able to go out and
seek employment.
It was a rough day, blowing hard from the South East, when Newton, who
had tried his fortune on board of every vessel (crowded as they were in
the docks) without success, walked in a melancholy and disappointed mood
along the splendid pier which lines the river-side. Few people were
out, for the gusts of wind were accompanied by smart driving showers of
rain. Here and there was to be seen a boat pulling up in shore to fetch
the shipping in the stream, who with a heavy strain on their cables were
riding to the South East gale, and a strong ebb tide. Newton had made
up his mind to enter on board of one of these vessels about to, sail,
provided they would advance him a part of his wages for his father's
support; when, as a heavy squall cleared away, he perceived that a boat
had broken adrift from the outermost vessel (a large brig), with only
one man in it, who was carried away by the rapid current, assisted by
the gale blowing down the river, so as to place him in considerable
risk. The man in the boat tossed out his oar, and pulling first on one
side, and then on the other, tried to make for the shore; but in vain.
He was swept away with a rapidity which threatened in less than an hour
to carry him out to sea, unless assistance were afforded him.
Another heavy squall again hid the boat from the sight of Newton, who
had been anxiously watching to ascertain if any relief was sent from the
shipping, and who was now convinced that the disaster had not been
perceived. He therefore ran down the bank of the river, waiting until
the squall should blow over, and enable him to discover the boat.
In about ten minutes the squall passed over, and the boat was again
presented to his sight; she was still in the centre of the stream, about
three hundred yards from the shore. The man who was in her, finding all
his attempts futile, had lain on his oar, and was kneeling in the stern
sheets, apparently in supplication. Newton could not resist the appeal;
it appeared to point out to him that he was summoned to answer the call
made upon Providence. The boat was now a quarter of a mile farther down
the river than where he stood, and about three miles from the town and
shipping, both of which were no longer discernible from the thickness of
the weather. Newton threw off his coat, and plunging into the agitated
water, the cold of which nearly checked his respiration, swam off into
the stream in a direction so as to allow himself to fetch to windward of
the boat. He was soon carried down to it by the rapidity of the tide,
and, as he approached, he shouted to announce his presence. The man in
the boat started up at the sound of a human voice, and perceiving Newton
close to the bows, lent over and extended his hand towards, him. Newton
seized hold of it, and then was whirled round by the tide fore and aft
with the side of the boat, with such violence as nearly to drag the
other man out, and half fill the boat with water. It was with great
difficulty, although assisted by the occupant, that Newton contrived at
last to get in; when, exhausted with the efforts he had made, he
remained a few seconds without motion; the man, whom he had thus risked
his life to save, perceiving his condition, and not speaking to him.
"We have no time to lose," said Newton, at last: "take an oar, and let
us pull in for the shore. If once we are swept down to the narrows
there will be little chance for us."
The other complied, without speaking; and, after a few minutes exertion
the boat was safely landed on the Liverpool side of the river.
"The Lord be praised!" ejaculated Newton's companion, as he laid on his
oar. "I did not call upon _Him_ in vain; your accident has been the
means of my preservation."
"How do you mean?" inquired Newton.
"Why, did you not fall overboard?" replied the other.
Newton then explained to his companion what we have already related to
the reader, ending his narrative with the observation, that when he
perceived him praying for assistance in his peril, he could not resist
the appeal.
"God will reward you, young man," continued he: "and now I will explain
to you how it was that I was adrift, like a bear in a washing-tub. My
first-mate was below. I had just relieved the deck, for in this blowing
weather we must keep watch in harbour. The men were all at their
dinner, when I heard the boat thumping under the main channels. I got
into her to ease off a fathom or two of the painter; but as I hauled her
ahead to get at the bend, it appears that the monkey of a boy who made
her fast, and has been but a few months at sea, had made a `_slippery
hitch_;' so away it went, and I was adrift. I hailed them on board; but
they did not hear me, although the first-mate might have, for he was in
the cabin, and the stern window was up; but hailing to windward is hard
work, such weather as this; the words are blown back again down your own
throat. And now, let me know a little about you, my lad, and see
whether I cannot in return be of some use to you."
Newton's history was soon told; and, at the conclusion, he had the
satisfaction of finding that he had obtained the very situation which he
had been in search of.
"I have no second mate on board," observed the captain of the brig; "but
I intended to have shipped one to-morrow. I was only divided between
which to take of two who have offered themselves, with equally good
recommendations. Fortunately, I would promise neither; and, as I think
your own recommendation stronger than theirs, the berth is at your
service. I only wish, for your sake, that it was that of first-mate. I
am sure you would prove yourself fit for the situation; and I cannot say
that I am very partial to the one that I have at present; but he is a
relation of the owner's."
The arrangements were soon made. Mr Berecroft, the master of the
vessel, advanced Newton a sum to fit himself out, and agreed with the
owner at Liverpool, that one half of Newton's wages should be allotted
monthly to his father. The next morning (as the vessel had a pilot on
board, and the weather had moderated,) Newton took leave of his father,
and with a light heart accompanied his new acquaintance on board of the
vessel.
It was early in the morning when they embarked in a hired boat, the one
belonging to the brig still remaining down the river, where they had
landed. The first-mate, as it appeared, was in the cabin shaving
himself, previous to his going on shore to the owner to report the
supposed loss of his superior. The sailors were either busy or down
below, so that no notice was taken of the boat coming alongside; and
Newton, with the master, were both on the deck before the circumstance
was known to the first-mate. It so happened, that at the very same
moment that they came on board, the first-mate was ascending the
companion hatch, to order a boat to be lowered down, and manned. When
he perceived Mr Berecroft, he fell back with astonishment, and turned
pale.
"I thought you were gone," said he: "why, what could have saved you? did
you not drift out to sea?"
"It appears, then, Mr Jackson, that you knew that I was adrift,"
replied the master seriously, looking him steadfastly in the face.
"That is,"--replied the mate, confused--"I thought--of course, seeing
the boat was not alongside--that you had drifted away in her; how it
happened--of course, I know not."
"I should trust, for your conscience sake, Mr Jackson, that you did
not; however, here I am again, as you see, by the blessing of
Providence, and the exertions of this young man, whom I must introduce
to you as our second-mate."
Jackson cast an angry glance at Newton upon the conclusion of this
speech. The master had truly observed that it was strange the
first-mate did not hear him when he had hailed the brig for assistance.
The fact was, that Jackson had both heard him and seen him; but he was a
wretch devoid of all feeling, who consulted nothing except his own
interest. He had made sure that the master would be carried out to sea,
there to perish by a most miserable death, and that he would succeed in
command of the vessel. He was then going on shore to report the
supposed "_falling overboard_" of the master: which as the brig was to
sail as the weather moderated, would have secured to him the command,
and, at the same time, have put an end to the search which (should he
have reported the truth) would immediately have taken place for the boat
in which the master had been adrift. Foiled in his hopes, by the
courage of Newton, Jackson had already formed towards him a deadly
hatred and determination of revenge.
That evening the wind abated, and the vessel sailed. The ensuing
morning she was clear of the sands, and a pilot vessel off Holyhead
having received the pilot, she steered down the Irish Channel to join a
convoy for the West Indies, collecting at Falmouth.
Mr Berecroft, the master of the vessel, who has not hitherto been
described, was a spare, light-built person, of about sixty years of age,
still active, and a thorough seaman. He had crossed the ocean for
forty-five years, and his occasional narratives, as he walked the deck,
or sat over his evening glass of grog, proved that his life must have
been one of no ordinary variety and interest. He was serious and
rationally devout. He checked all swearing from the men under his
command, and rebuked it, although he could not prevent it, in the
first-mate; who, to annoy him, seldom made his appearance on deck
without making use of some execration or another. It was Mr
Berecroft's custom to call down the seamen into his cabin every evening,
and read to them a short prayer; and, although this unusual ceremony
often caused a leer in some of the newly-entered men, and was not only
unattended but ridiculed by Jackson, still the whole conduct of
Berecroft was so completely in unison, that even the most idle and
thoughtless acknowledged that he was a good man, and quitted the ship
with regret. Such was Mr Berecroft; and we have little further to add,
except that he was very superior to the generality of masters of
merchant vessels. His family, it was reported, were strict quakers.
Jackson, the first-mate, was a bull-headed, sandy-haired Northumbrian;
as we before stated, a relation of the owner's, or he never would have
been permitted to remain in the ship. The reader has already had some
insight into his diabolical character. It will be sufficient to add,
that he was coarse and blustering in his manners; that he never forgot
and never forgave an injury; gratitude was not in his composition; and,
to gratify his revenge, he would stop at nothing.
On the third day, the brig, which was named the Eliza and Jane, after
the two daughters of the owner, arrived at Falmouth, where she anchored
in the outer roads, in company with thirty or forty more, who had
assembled at the appointed rendezvous. On the second day after their
arrival, a fifty-gun ship, frigate, and two corvettes, made their
appearance off the mouth of the harbour; and after a due proportion of
guns, some shotted and some not, the whole convoy were under weigh, and
hove-to round their protectors. The first step taken by the latter was
to disembarrass their _proteges_ of one-third of their crews, leaving
them as defenceless as possible, that they might not confide in their
own strength, but put their whole trust in the men-of-war, and keep as
close to them as possible. Having taken out every unprotected man, they
distributed convoy signals in lieu, and half a dozen more guns announced
that they were to make sail--an order immediately complied with: the
merchant vessels, loaded with canvass below and aloft, while the
men-of-war, with their topsails on the caps, sailed round and round
them, firing shot at every unfortunate vessel which was not able to sail
as well as the rest.
The convoy left Falmouth, seventy-five in number; but in a few days
there were but forty in sight. Those who remained behind either made
their voyage how they could, or were taken by the enemy's privateers,
who followed in the wake of the convoy. Some few were carried into the
French ports; and the underwriters of the policy eat but little dinner
on the day which brought the intelligence of their capture. Others were
retaken by the English blockading squadrons, who received then one
eighth for salvage. At last the men-of-war were fairly running down the
traders, with about twenty-five of the best sailors in company; and the
commodore deemed it advisable to take particular care of the few which
remained, lest he should be "_hauled over the coals_" by the Admiralty.
Nothing worth comment occurred during the remainder of the passage.
They all arrived safe at Barbadoes, when the commodore brought in his
returns to the admiral, and complained bitterly of the obstinacy of the
masters of merchant vessels, who would part company with him, in
defiance of all his injunctions, and in spite of all the powder which he
fired away to enforce his signals. There certainly was a fault
somewhere.
During the passage, which lasted seven weeks, Newton had ample
opportunity of ascertaining his situation. The master invariably
treated him with kindness and consideration; and before the voyage was
completed, he treated him as if he were his own son. Jackson lost no
opportunity of annoying or insulting him; but the support of his patron
indemnified Newton for the conduct of the first-mate, and he resolved to
take no notice of that which could not well be prevented. On their
arrival at Barbadoes, Mr Berecroft went on shore to the house of the
consignee; and then it was that the malignity of Jackson broke out in
all its violence.
The brig had discharged her cargo, and was lying in Carlisle Bay,
waiting for the sugars which were to be shipped for Liverpool. One
morning, when Newton, who for some time had submitted to the tyranny of
Jackson without complaint, was standing at the main hatchway, giving
directions to the men below, who were arranging the dunnage at the
bottom of the vessel, the first-mate came on deck, and, watching his
opportunity, staggered, with a rope in his hand, against Newton, as if
by accident, so as to throw him over the coombings. Newton, who would
have immediately fallen to the bottom of the hold upon the ballast, at
the risk of his life suddenly seized hold of the first-mate, not in
sufficient time to recover his own balance, but so firmly as to drag
Jackson with him; and down they were both precipitated together. The
first-mate, having hold of one of the ropes leading down the main-mast,
clung fast to save himself, and in so doing also broke the fall of
Newton; but the weight of their bodies dragged the rope through
Jackson's hands, which were lacerated to the bone. Neither party were
much hurt by the fall; so that the treachery of Jackson recoiled upon
himself.
After this specimen of animosity, which was duly reported to Mr
Berecroft, on his return on board, by the seamen, who detested Jackson,
and any thing like foul play, his protector determined that Newton
should no longer be subjected to further violence. At the request of
Mr Berecroft, Newton was invited to stay at the house of Mr Kingston,
the gentleman to whom the vessel had been consigned--an offer which was
gladly accepted.
Newton had not been many days on shore, when Mr Kingston, who had taken
a strong interest in him, proposed, in answer to his many questions
relative to the slave trade, that they should make a party to visit a
plantation, the proprietor of which had been a resident since his youth,
and judge for himself as to the truth of the reports so industriously
circulated by those who were so inimical to the employment of a slave
population.