The day at length arrives, the long wished day for the sailing of the
Annis; and Ben gladly hails it as the fairest he had ever seen.
All in the stream the ship she lies,
Her topsails loosen'd from above,
When Ben to DEBBY fondly flies
To bid farewell to his TRUE LOVE.
But brightly as shone the day, yet in this, as in all the past, he
found a canker. If the season served his ambition, it crossed his
love. The reader will please be reminded that the _Debby_,
immortalized in the lines above, was the beautiful Miss Deborah Read,
who had at first so heartily laughed at Ben for munching his roll
along the street; but afterwards had fallen very much in love with
him. And, on the other hand, living in her father's family, and daily
a spectator of her prudence and sweetness of spirit, he had become
equally partial to her; and had even asked her in marriage, before he
set out for London. The old gentleman, her father, was quite keen for
the match, it having always been his opinion, he said, that in
choosing a husband for his daughter, it was better to get _a man
without money, than money without a man_.
But old Mrs. Read flatly refused her consent; or, at any rate, until
his return, when, as she said, it would be full time enough for "_such
young people to marry_." The truth is, the printing trade, then in its
infancy in Pennsylvania, was of such little account that the old lady
had her fears that her daughter would _starve_ if she married Ben.
Having taken leave of his fair sweetheart, with many a vow of love and
swift return, Ben, accompanied by Ralph, hastened on board the ship,
which fell down the river for Newcastle. Immediately on his arrival at
this place, he went on shore to see his dear friend the governor, who
was come down to despatch the packet. The governor could not be seen!
This was a sad shock to Ben, and would have been much more so, but for
the attentions of the governor's secretary, Dr. Bar, who, with the
finest smile imaginable, presented the "GOVERNOR'S _compliments to his
young friend Mr. Franklin--was extremely sorry indeed he could not see
him, owing to a press of business, among which was that of writing
some letters for his own special service, which should be sent on
board to him--but though his_ EXCELLENCY _could not enjoy the pleasure
of seeing Mr. Franklin, yet he begged he would accept the assurances
of his eternal friendship, with the best wishes for his prosperous
voyage and speedy return; and above all, his earnest hopes that he
would continue to improve his extraordinary talents_."
Though this was to Ben somewhat like a sugar-plumb to a child after a
dose of wormwood, yet could it not so entirely take off the bitter,
but that he was at first prodigiously in a humour to break with the
governor. His characteristic prudence, however, came to his aid; and
fortunately recollecting that it was not a common man, but a GOVERNOR,
he was dealing with, and that such great men have their ways of doing
things quite different from little people, he smothered his
resentment, and went peaceably on board the ship--not even yet
suspecting any fraud on the part of the governor. When we consider how
dear to the young and virtuous bosom is the glow of gratitude to
benefactors, we cannot but mourn that governor Keith should so cruelly
have chilled those joys in the bosom of our young countryman. But,
though chilled for a moment, they were not extinct. The heavy heart
which he at first felt on being denied the pleasure of seeing the
governor, is already much relieved by his gracious message through the
secretary, and afterwards so completely cured by the sublime and
beautiful scenes around Newcastle, that he went back to the ship in
good spirits again. On the return of the last boat, bringing the mail,
he modestly asked the captain for the letters which the governor had
addressed to his care. To this the rough son of Neptune replied,
"_that they were all there_, he supposed, _higglety, pigglety,
together in the letter bag, and that as the ship with a fine breeze
was getting under weigh, he could not spare the time now to make a
search for them, but that before they got to London he might overhaul
the bag and take 'em out for himself_."
Ben was perfectly satisfied with this answer. And charmed at thought
of the great things awaiting him in London, he threw off his coat and
bravely joined the crew in all their haste and bustle to weigh the
anchor, and spread the sails before the freshening gale.
But while the sailors, many of them at least, poor fellows, for lack
of education, were straining at the clanking windlass, or creaking
halyards, as void of thought as the timber-heads of the ship, the
spirits of Ben were in a constant succession of pleasurable
reflections on the magnificent scenes around him--the grand floating
castle which bore him so high above the foaming billows--the rapid
flight of the ship, as flying before the stormy winds she left the
lessening shores behind her--the boundless fields of the blue rolling
ocean, with all her porpoises gathering round in blackening shoals,
bounding and blowing, as if to greet the monster vessel, and by their
furious romps, adding to the crash and foam of the tempest.
Though Ben was no poet, nor ever affected to be "_religious
overmuch_," yet could he not behold such magnificent scenes without
that adoring sense of eternal power and goodness which has been so
elegantly expressed by the sweet voice of Zion:--
"Shout to the Lord, ye surging seas,
In your eternal roar;
Let wave to wave resound his praise,
And shore reply to shore.
"While monsters sporting on the flood
In scaly silver shine,
Speak terribly their Maker--God,
And lash the foaming brine."