"It's a bad business for you, Master Dick," he said; "but the only thing
now to be done is to make the best of it. They're a precious bad lot,
and the captain and officers are no better. I've made up my mind to run
as soon as I can, and I'd advise you to do the same."
"That I certainly will when I have somewhere to run to, but at present
it seems we should have to run overboard," I answered.
"We must wait until we get into harbour. We shall have to touch at a
good many places, and if we keep our wits about us we shall manage it
one way or another."
"We'll talk about that by-and-by, but tell me how you happened to be
here. I heard that you had been sent on board a man-of-war," I said.
"So I was, and I wish I had remained aboard her, too; but as I had been
sent against my will, I cut and run on the first chance I got. She was
the `Beagle' sloop of war. We were ordered to cruise on the Irish
coast. We were not far off the town of Belfast, when a boat's crew to
which I belonged pulled ashore under charge of a mid-shipmite. While he
went into a house to deliver a message, I ran off as fast as my legs
could carry me. I at last reached a cottage in which there was a
whiteheaded old fellow, a girl, and two young men. I told them that I
had been pressed and ill-treated, and was trying to make my escape from
the cruelty of the English. The young men said at once that they would
protect me, and would answer that I should not be retaken. The old man
warned them that they were playing a dangerous game, and said that he
would have nothing to do with the business, advising them to take me
back to the boat. The girl, however, pleaded for me, and observed that
now I had run, my punishment would be ten times greater, and that it
would be cruel and inhospitable to refuse me shelter. She prevailed on
her old grandfather. That evening the young men took me down aboard a
little `hooker,' which they said was just going to sail for Liverpool,
and that if I liked I could go in her. Her cargo, they said, was timber
and fruit, but turned out to be faggots and potatoes. I knew that at
Liverpool there was no chance of being discovered, and I at once agreed.
We reached the Mersey in a couple of days. As ill-luck would have it,
I landed close to where the `Emu' was getting ready for sea. Knowing
that I could not venture to return home, I went on board and asked if a
boy was wanted. The first mate at once said yes, as one of the
apprentices had cut and run and could not be found. I thought I was in
good luck, but we hadn't been to sea many days before I found that I had
fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. The other apprentice, poor
Jack Drage, told me that he had been kicked and cuffed from the first
moment that he had stepped on board, and that if he had had any friends
on shore, he'd have taken French leave as the other had done. Things
had grown worse instead of better, and he was already weary of his life.
I advised him not to give in; that in time things must mend; but he was
a poor-hearted fellow and only wrung his hands and cried, declaring that
he was utterly miserable. I did my best to keep up his spirits, but it
was all of no use. One night during a gale we had soon after sailing,
he disappeared. Whether he had thrown himself overboard into the sea,
or been knocked overboard no one could tell. Of course it was entered
in the log that he had been knocked overboard. In my opinion he
sacrificed his life rather than endure his miseries. I told the first
mate so, and he knocked me down. The next time he called me a sulky
rascal, but I answered that I was not going to do away with myself like
Jack Drage, and that I would make a complaint of him to the British
Consul whenever we touched at a port. On this he knocked me down again.
I know that I was taken with the sulks, and for days afterwards didn't
speak to him or any one else; but as I had no wish to be killed, I did
what I was ordered to do, and got on somewhat better. Ever since that
not a day passes that I don't get a kick or have a marline-spike hove at
my head by either the officers or men forward. They're all very much
alike for that matter, except Tom Trivett, and he's as good a fellow as
ever lived. He has a hard life of it, for the men are always playing
him tricks; and the officers spite him, and are constantly making him do
dirty jobs which no able seaman should be called on to perform. But, I
say, I mustn't stand talking here any longer, or I shall be suspected of
being your friend. Don't let any one find out that we know each other,
and we shall get on all the better. I'll tell Tom Trivett, and he'll
bring you the coffee if I can't manage it; meanwhile you stay quiet in
the bunk, even if you feel well enough to get up."
"There is no chance of my being able to do that for some days," I
answered, "for I don't think I could stand if I were to try."
Mark now left me, and I fell back nearly exhausted from having talked so
long to him.
After some time Tom appeared with a basin of hot black coffee, with some
biscuit floating in it.
"Can't I have a little milk?" I asked.
"We've not any cows on board here," he answered with a laugh; "and there
are no dairies in the Atlantic, unless Daddy Neptune happens to keep
sea-cows."
"You must have thought me very silly to ask for milk," I said, as I ate
up the sopped biscuit, and drank the hot coffee, which was well
sweetened with sugar.
"It shows you are something of a greenhorn, lad," he answered, laughing,
"but no wonder your wits aren't of the brightest after having been shut
up in the dark so long; you shall have something else by-and-by.
Remember what I told you; don't be getting well too soon, that's all."