MY ENGLISH HOME AND FAMILY--MY BROTHER GOES TO SEA--HEAR OF THE LOSS OF
HIS SHIP--MY FATHER'S DEATH--WE ARE REDUCED TO POVERTY--RESOLVE TO VISIT
MY GRANDFATHER, AND TO SEARCH FOR ALFRED--KINDNESS OF MY SCHOOLMASTER
AND COMPANIONS--MY DOG SOLON.
Ours was a very united and a very happy family. We lived in the
neighbourhood of London, near Blackheath, in Kent, on the elevated
ground which overlooks Greenwich, its noble hospital, and the river
Thames. Our father was a merchant, a thoroughly upright, industrious
man, an honour to the profession to which he belonged. No man could be
more attentive to business than he was, and yet no one enjoyed the
country and the pursuits of the country more than he did. With what
pleasure did we look forward, when we were children, to his return in
the afternoon and even now I think I hear his cheerful laugh, and see
his bland smile, as he took us up one by one in his arms and kissed us,
and then often, though he must frequently have been tired and harassed,
had a game of boisterous romps with us, seeming entirely to have
forgotten all his cares and troubles. It was considered the privilege
of little Kate, or one of the other young ones, to look slily into his
pockets when, by a well-known significant gesture, he let us understand
that they were not altogether empty. He had a little hand hamper or
basket, such as many another paterfamilias possesses, which travelled
with great regularity up and down nearly every day, and out of which all
sorts of wonderful articles used to appear; and if a friend accompanied
him unexpectedly down to dinner, our mother never had to complain that
she was taken unawares and had nothing fit to offer him. The hamper,
however, did not always contain eatables. Often our mother, or one of
us, had been wishing very much for something which could not possibly
have got into his pockets, and before many days were over, it was very
nearly certain to make its appearance, when the top of the hamper was
thrown back, imbedded in straw or paper. That dear old hamper always
put us in mind of some magic chest in a fairy tale, only I doubt if any
magic chest ever afforded so much pleasure, or produced so great a
variety of articles as it did. I do not know if our kind father ever
was out of humour; if he was, he left the appearance of it behind him in
the city. Out of spirits he seldom or never was in my childhood's days.
The time was coming when a sad change was to occur. I mention these
traits, trivial though they may seem, because I think that they speak
well of my father's character. At the same time that he was a most
affectionate father, he never forgot the necessity of correcting us for
our faults; while he was deeply sensible of the importance of fitting us
for the stations in life we might be destined to occupy, and of placing
clearly before us the object of our existence on earth, and our duty to
God and to our fellow-men. He watched over us with the most anxious
solicitude during every moment he could spare; he took us out to walk
with him, and had us constantly in his room, never wearying, apparently,
of our society. This he did, I have no doubt, not only because he loved
us, but that he might ascertain our different characters and
dispositions, and at once eradicate, as far as he was able, each budding
tendency to evil as it appeared.
Such was my father, a fine, intelligent, gentlemanly, handsome man; and
though his hair was perfectly grey, his complexion was yet clear, nor
had his eye lost the animation of youth. It is with great satisfaction
that I can look back and picture him as I have now faithfully drawn his
portrait.
Our dear mother, too, she was worthy to be his wife,--so amiable, and
loving, and sensible, a pious Christian and a perfect gentlewoman,
thoroughly educated, and capable of bringing up her daughters to fill
the same station in life she occupied, which was all she desired for
them. Indeed, we boys also received much of our early instruction from
her, and I feel very certain that we retained far more of what she
taught us than we acquired from any other source. To her we owed,
especially, lessons of piety and instruction in the Holy Scriptures,
never, I trust, to be forgotten, as well as much elementary secular
knowledge, which probably we should otherwise have been very long in
picking up. My mother had no relations of whom we, at all events, knew
anything in England. She was the daughter of an Englishman, however,
who had, when the Mauritius first came under the dominion of Great
Britain, gone out there as a settler and planter, leaving her, his only
child, to be educated in England.
Mr Coventry, my grandfather, was, we understood, of a somewhat
eccentric disposition, and had for some years wandered about in the
Eastern seas and among the islands of the Pacific, although he had
ultimately returned again to his estate. He had transmitted home ample
funds for his daughter's education, but he kept up very little
communication with her, and had never even expressed any intention of
sending for her to join him. The lady under whose charge she had been
left was a very excellent person, and had thoroughly done her duty by
her in cultivating to the utmost all the good qualities and talents she
possessed. That lady was a friend of my father's family, and thus my
father became acquainted with her pupil, to whom he was before long
married.
It was necessary for me to give this brief account of my family history,
to explain the causes which produced some of my subsequent adventures.
We were a large family. I had several brothers and sisters. I was the
third son, and I had two elder sisters. Alfred, my eldest brother, was
a fine joyous-spirited fellow. Some said he was too spirited, and
unwilling to submit to discipline. He was just cut out for a sailor,--
so everybody said, and so he thought himself, and to sea he had resolved
to go. Our father exerted all the interest he possessed to get him into
the navy, and succeeded. We thought it a very fine thing for him when
we heard that he really and truly was going to be a midshipman. It
appeared to us as if there was but one step between that and being an
admiral, or, at all events, a post-captain in command of a fine
line-of-battle ship. Neither our mother nor sisters had at first at all
wished that Alfred should go to sea; indeed, our father would, I
believe, have much rather seen him enter into the business of a
merchant; but as soon as the matter was settled, they all set to work
with the utmost zeal and energy to get his kit ready for sea. Many a
sigh I heard, and many a tear I saw dropped over the shirts, and
stockings, and pocket-handkerchiefs, as they were being marked, when he
was not near. Too often had they read of dreadful shipwrecks, of
pestiferous climates, of malignant fevers carrying off the young as well
as the old, the strong as well as the weak, not to feel anxious about
Alfred, and to dread that he might be among those gallant spirits who go
away out-flowing with health, and hope, and confidence, and yet are
destined never again to visit their native land, or to see the faces of
those who love them so much. Alfred was full of life and animation, and
very active in assisting in the preparations making for his departure.
Well do I remember the evening when his uniform came down. With what
hurried fingers we undid the parcel, and how eagerly I rushed up-stairs
with him to help him to put it on! What a fine fellow I thought he
looked; how proud I felt of him, as I walked round and round him,
admiring the gold lace and the white patches worn by midshipmen in those
days, and the dirk by his side, and the glossy belt, and the crown and
anchor on his buttons and in his cap, and more than all, when I felt
that he was really and truly an officer in the navy! Still more
delighted was I when I accompanied him down-stairs, and heard the
commendations of all the family on his appearance. Our father, with a
hand on his shoulder, could not help exclaiming, "Well, Alfred, you are
a jolly midshipman, my boy." And then all the servants had collected in
the hall to have a look at him, and they were none of them chary of
their expressions of admiration.
It was some days after this before all the multifarious contents of the
chest were ready, and then came the parting day. That was a very sad
one to our mother and elder sisters. I did not fully realise the fact
that we were to be parted till he had actually gone, so my sorrow did
not begin till I found his place empty, and had to go about by myself
without his genial companionship. Our father took him down to
Portsmouth, where he was to join his ship, the _Aurora_ frigate,
destined for the East India station, and our second brother Herbert
accompanied him. Herbert was delicate, and required a change of scene
and air. I longed to have gone too, but our father could not take both
of us. My great desire was to see a large ship, a real man-of-war. I
knew very well what a vessel was like, for I had seen numbers in the
Thames, and one of Alfred's great pleasures was to take me with him to
Greenwich Hospital, and to sit down on the benches and to watch the
vessels sailing up and down the river, while we talked with the old
pensioners, who were always ready to spin some of their longest yarns
for our edification, though older people who went down there for the
purpose found no little difficulty in getting anything out of them.
This was not surprising. The old sailors found in us attentive and
undoubting listeners. We never thought of even questioning them to let
them suspect that we had not the most perfect reliance on what they
said, which older people were apt to do, I observed, for the purpose of
gaining more information from them. The old tars were either offended,
from suspecting that their words were doubted, or fancied that their
interrogators had some sinister motives in putting such questions, and,
from an early habit of suspicion in all such instances, would shut up
their mouths, and seem to have forgotten all about their early lives.
In the way I have mentioned, both Alfred and I gained a great deal of
information about the sea and life in the navy, so that when he went
afloat he was not nearly as ignorant as are many youngsters. In one
respect, however, he had gained, unfortunately, no good from his
intercourse with the old sailors. He had deeply imbibed many of the
worst prejudices about the navy which even some old men-of-war's men
retain to the present day, and he was taught to look upon all superior
officers in the service as cruel and unjust tyrants, whom it was
spirited to disobey when practicable, and ingenious to circumvent in
every possible way. His feeling, in short, was very much that which
schoolboys have for the ordinary run of masters whom they do not exactly
detest for any unusual severity, but for whom they certainly do not
entertain any undue affection. When he first received his appointment,
he had forgotten all about this feeling; indeed, he had never expressed
himself strongly on the matter; only I know that it existed. I mention
it now as it accounted to me in some degree for his subsequent conduct.
When our father came back he gave a vivid description of the smart
frigate in which dear Alfred was to sail, of the gentlemanly, pleasant
captain, and of the nice lads in the midshipmen's berth who were to be
his companions. The first lieutenant, he remarked, was a stern-looking,
weather-beaten sailor of the old school, but he had the repute of being
a first-rate officer, and the captain had told him that he was very glad
to get him, as he was sure to make all the youngsters learn and do their
duty, and to turn them into good seamen. Altogether, he was perfectly
satisfied with all he had seen, and with Alfred's prospects.
Herbert's description of the midshipmen's berth made me regret more and
more that I had not been allowed to accompany him, and I began to wish
that I too might be able to go to sea. I did not talk about it; indeed,
I tried to repress the feeling, because I knew that my father wished me
to be brought up to his business. Herbert, it was seen, was not at all
likely ever to become fitted for it. His health was delicate, and he
was of a contemplative studious disposition, and of a simple trusting
mind, which had a tendency to shut out from itself all thoughts or
knowledge of the evil which exists in the world. This is, I believe, a
very blessed and happy disposition, if rightly directed and educated,
but, at the same time, those who possess it are not fitted for those
pursuits in life which bring them into contact and competition with all
classes and orders of men. They should not be thrown among the crowd
struggling on to gain wealth, or name, or station, or they most
assuredly will be trampled under foot. So our father said, and I think
he judged rightly, when he advised Herbert to fix his thoughts on
becoming a minister of the gospel. "If I am considered worthy, there is
no vocation I would so gladly follow," was dear Herbert's answer. Those
who knew him best would most assuredly have said that he was worthy,
compared to the usual standard of frail human nature.
The time to which I have now been alluding was during our summer
holidays. We all three went to a first-rate school near Blackheath,
where I believe we were general favourites. I know that Alfred and
Herbert were, and I had many friends among the boys, while the masters
always expressed themselves kindly towards me. If not exactly what is
called studiously disposed, I was, at all events, fond of learning and
reading, and gaining information in every variety of way, and the
commendations I received from my masters encouraged me to be diligent
and attentive. My father also was pleased with my progress; and as I
delighted in giving him pleasure, I had another strong motive to study
hard, not only what I especially liked--for there is very little virtue
in that--but what I was told would ultimately prove a benefit to me. I
was especially fond of reading about foreign countries, and I thought to
myself, if I am not allowed to enter the navy, I will, at all events,
become a great traveller, and, perhaps, as a merchant, be able to visit
all those wonderful lands, with the accounts of which I am now so much
interested. I will not dwell upon my school life. It was a very happy
one. We were boarders, but we came home frequently, and we did not
thereby lose the love of home; for my part, I think we loved it the more
for frequently going to it. We kept up our home interests, had our home
amusements, and our home pets. Our more particular friends among our
school-fellows frequently came home with us, especially to spend their
Easter and Michaelmas holidays, when they would otherwise have had to
remain at school. We had also generally a good supply of eatables, and
for these and the reasons of which I have before spoken, we were
probably altogether the most popular boys at school. Alfred had been
so, and so was Herbert, and I in time came in for my share of
popularity, and, as I found, for what is far more valuable, of sincere,
true friendship. We all at that time undoubtedly enjoyed the sunshine
of prosperity.
We heard occasionally from Alfred; but he was not an apt penman, and did
not prove himself so good a correspondent as we had hoped. We had a
letter from him written at Rio de Janeiro, and a short one from the Cape
of Good Hope. Then the ship went to India, and was there a couple of
years, during which time he wrote occasionally. At last he sent us a
few hurried lines from the Mauritius, saying that he was well, but that
the frigate was about to return to India, and on her way to visit
several interesting places.
Waiting for some time after the receipt of that letter, we began to be
anxious about receiving another, but none came. Day after day, week
after week, and month after month passed by, and we heard nothing. Our
disappointment was great, but our anxiety did not increase in the same
proportion, as we had no doubt that his letters had by some means
miscarried. We never allowed ourselves to suppose for a moment that the
ship had been lost, or that any other misfortune had occurred, still
less that Alfred himself was ill or had died. None of us, it seemed,
could have borne that thought. At last my father became really anxious
and wrote to the captain. He waited for a long time for a reply, and at
last he got one, not from the former captain, who had died from fever,
but from the officer who had been first lieutenant when my brother
sailed, saying that Mr Marsden had thought fit to quit his ship without
leave; he could not be considered as belonging to the navy, and that,
therefore, he had no further charge over him. He did not say where
Alfred had left the ship, or when, or why, allowing us to remain most
cruelly in a dreadful state of suspense. My father instantly wrote
again to make further inquiries, but during the time we were waiting for
the reply to the second letter, we saw it stated in the papers that the
gallant frigate had been lost, and that all hands on board had perished.
We grieved much at the idea that Alfred should have left his ship and
brought disgrace upon himself by becoming a deserter. At the same time,
we could not but with gratitude rejoice that he had escaped the dreadful
fate which had overtaken his companions. This circumstance was one of
the first griefs which had befallen our family. My father was much
troubled by it. He wrote again and again to various correspondents in
that part of the world, but received no satisfactory replies; none of
them had heard of Alfred. The surprising thing was that he did not
write himself. His silence was most unaccountable and painful. We
could not believe that he was lost to us for ever, nor could we suppose
for a moment that he whose memory was so fondly cherished, and who had
loved us all so much, had so completely changed as not to think it worth
while even to communicate with us, and to let us know that he was alive.
"Oh no, no! that is impossible," exclaimed our mother, with tears in her
eyes, when one day our father remarked that lads scarcely were aware how
quickly time flew by, and that they often put off writing home from day
to day till they forgot all about the matter. "I am sure our dear
Alfred would have written if he could. Perhaps he has written, and his
letters have been lost. This is by far the most likely thing to have
occurred. So affectionate, kind, and dutiful as he always was, he
certainly has not forgotten us."
Mary, and Charlotte, and Herbert, all thought the same. So did I. I
felt sure that he had not forgotten us, and that, had he possessed the
means of writing and of sending us a letter, that he would have done so;
but I could not help fancying that he must have been made prisoner by
some savages, or carried into slavery by some Malays or Malagash or
other eastern people, or perhaps that he had been wrecked on some
desolate island from which he had no means of escaping. I reasoned
thus: Fond as he was of the sea, after he had left his ship and
virtually quitted the navy, he was not at all likely to live a shore
life. It was much more probable that he would engage in some trading
voyage or other, and the more romance and adventure it might appear to
offer, the more likely he was to select it; and thus he would have gone
away to the South Seas or to the East Indian Islands, where all the
contingencies I have just spoken of were very likely to occur. It at
last became a fixed idea in my mind that poor Alfred was groaning
somewhere or other in slavery, but the where was the question to solve.
I told my sister Mary my idea, but she entreated me on no account to
mention it to our mother, or to anybody else, as she was certain that it
would make them still more unhappy about him than they were already.
At length a strong desire grew up in my bosom to set out and try to
discover Alfred. I had heard my father quote a Portuguese proverb, "He
who does not want sends, he who wants goes." Now, I certainly wanted
very much indeed to find out where poor Alfred was, and I was ready and
eager to sail the world round to discover him; but I was still very
young, and I knew that there would be a great deal of difficulty in
getting my father to allow me to go, if indeed he would give me
permission at all. When or how the idea came into my mind I could not
tell. There it was, however, and once there it was not likely to die
out, but would grow with my growth and strengthen with my strength, till
at length I was able to act upon it.
About this time I observed a great change coming over my father. He was
kind and affectionate as ever, but his spirits were lower than I had
ever known them; and day after day he came down late from London,
looking weary and fagged. My mother, too, looked anxious and sad.
Whatever was the cause which affected him, she was fully aware of it.
He had always from the first told her how his affairs were going on, and
he was not the person to conceal any expected misfortune from his
long-trusted wife.
The looked-for blow which was to lay him low, destroy his credit, and
bring him to utter ruin, came even more quickly and suddenly than he had
anticipated. He had some heavy liabilities, but at considerable loss
had collected the necessary sums, which were placed in the hands of his
bankers to meet them. The morning of the very day on which the money
was to be paid, his bankers failed, and he was in consequence compelled
to stop payment. Still, his creditors had so much confidence in him
that they would have enabled him to continue business; but scarcely a
week had passed before he received news that two of his principal
foreign correspondents, with whom he had at the time very large
transactions, had likewise failed. Thus the remittances he was
expecting from them did not arrive, and he was utterly unable to meet
other and still heavier liabilities which were daily falling due. He at
once manfully called his creditors together, and explained clearly to
them the state of the case, and handed all his available property over
to them. He bore up well under the trying situation in which he was
placed; he even, I heard, looked cheerful. He was doing what he felt to
be his duty. He trusted still, by industry and energy, to be able to
support his family; but there was something working away at his heart
which those who saw him did not suspect, and of which he himself
possibly was not aware. He went back to his counting-house after this
last meeting of his creditors. He wrung the hand of his faithful
head-clerk, Mr Ward, who had himself suffered severely by the failure
of the bank; and then, scarcely venturing to speak, set off to come
home.
That home he never reached alive. Between the station and his house he
was seen to fall, and being carried into the nearest shop, immediately
breathed his last. Sad and almost overwhelming was the account which
was brought us. I will not enter into the particulars, with which my
readers generally cannot be interested.
Deep was our grief at our kind father's loss. We were left also almost
penniless. He had insured his life, but by some unaccountable neglect
of his trustees, we could not benefit by the insurance. Had Alfred been
at home, we should, it appeared, have been placed above want, at all
events. A considerable sum of money had been left him by his godfather,
the interest of which was to be paid over to our father or mother for
his use from the time he was sixteen. In case of his death, it was to
go to another godson of the same old gentleman. Unless, therefore, the
trustees in whose names the capital was invested were assured that he
was alive, they, of course, could not venture to pay our mother the
money.
After our first burst of grief, was over, and we could talk with some
calmness, I told my mother of the idea which had so long occupied my
mind, and besought her to allow me to carry it into execution. Herbert,
it was very clear, was not so well fitted for the undertaking as I was.
Somebody, I argued, ought to go, and as I had long set my heart on the
work, and thought, or fancied that I had thought, of all the
difficulties I should have to encounter, I was better fitted for it than
anybody else. I would also visit my grandfather in the Mauritius, and
he certainly would give me important assistance in tracing out my
brother. Steadily and strenuously I pressed the point, till at length
my mother came entirely into my view of the case, and gave me her full
permission to set off, and to make such arrangements as I thought
necessary. As soon as she had done this, though her fast falling tears
told me how much the effort cost her, a load appeared to be taken off my
heart. I felt as if I had at once grown into a man, and was about to
begin the serious business of life. Scarcely a fortnight had elapsed
after my father's funeral before it was arranged that I was to go. How
to carry out my purpose was the next consideration. On one point I was
resolved--not to deprive my mother and sisters of a farthing of the
small sum which could be collected for their support. I had a fair
stock of clothes, and Herbert insisted on my taking some of his, so that
I was at no expense for my outfit. The first thing Herbert and I did
was to set off for the London Docks, where I had been several times with
my father, to try and find a ship bound for the Cape of Good Hope or the
Mauritius, at one of which places I proposed commencing my search. I
was ready to enter on board in any capacity in which I was not called
upon to pay a premium; but as I had never been at sea, and knew nothing
practical about the sea, it may be supposed that, although I had heard
of several ships at the point of sailing to the very places I wished
most to visit, I could not succeed in obtaining a berth on board any of
them. We walked home again somewhat dispirited with our want of
success; but, nevertheless, I was still as resolved as before to go by
some means or other.
We had arranged the next day to visit our school, that I might take
leave of our excellent master and school-fellows. I could not bear to
go away without seeing them, though I fancied that I should find it a
painful ceremony, I shall never forget how warmly and kindly I was
greeted by every one; and still more gratified was I when one boy after
another brought me up some present, which he asked me to accept as a
keepsake. Some were trifles, but everything was of a character likely
to prove useful to me. One gave me a knife with a hole in the handle,
through which I might pass a lanyard to wear it round my neck; another a
small writing-case; a third, a drawing-case; others, such things as
sketch-hooks, pencils, some useful tools; and one of my greater friends,
who was well off, gave me a first-rate spy-glass; while my kind master
called me into his study, and showed me a serviceable sextant. "There,
Ralph, I hope that, as you are going to sea, you will endeavour to
acquire all the information in your power respecting nautical matters,
even though you may not ultimately follow a sea life as your profession.
Of course, you will fit yourself to become an officer by the study of
navigation, which, you will find, is a distinct branch of a sailor's
profession from seamanship. The possession of the sextant you will, I
hope, find a considerable advantage to you, as it will enable you to
gain experience in taking observations of the celestial bodies as you
traverse the ocean. I offer you this gift on the condition that you
accept another one. It consists of these two stout volumes of blank
paper, and I shall expect you to do your best to fill them with the
result of the observations you make during your voyages and travels. I
want you to keep not merely an ordinary sea-log, remember, but a
complete journal, as diffuse as you can. Never trust to your memory.
Points which at the time you fancy you will never forget are often
completely obliterated in a few months. I have frequently myself found
this to be the case. So put down everything worth noting as soon after
it has occurred, or you have seen it, as possible; and especially
understand that no point connected with natural history, or science
generally, is too trivial to be noted. Great and important truths are
often discovered by what at first might have appeared a collection of
trivialities."
I repeat these remarks of my master's, because I think that they may be
of use to my readers, as I certainly found a very great advantage in
following his advice. He gave me also a number of pocket-books with
pencils, for producing indelible writing, which I also found very
useful. Other friends gave me books to form a complete sea-library;
indeed, I strongly suspected, from their character, that my master had
assisted in their selection. I need not say that I was very grateful
for all these numerous marks of kindness, and it made me very happy and
proud to feel that I was so much esteemed by my companions; at the same
time, I daresay I owed some of the kindness I received to the
commiseration my friends felt for me in consequence of the misfortunes
which had overtaken my family. Nearly everybody had given me something,
except my friend, Henry Raymond. I knew that his means were not large;
but still, I felt sure that he would wish to make me some trifling
present or other. After all my treasures had been collected, I found
him standing by my side.
"Come along, Ralph," he said, with the pleasant smile which constantly
lighted up his countenance; "I want to give you something which you will
like and value." He was leading me towards the courtyard at the back of
the house. "I wish that I could go with you myself, that we might take
care of each other; but as I cannot do that, I beg that you will take
Solon with you. He will fight bravely in your cause, and will, I am
sure, prove watchful and faithful; and it will be a great satisfaction
to me to know that you have got so stout a friend by your side."
There stood Solon with a new chain and collar, with my name engraved on
it. He was wagging his tail, and looking up with a pleased expression
in our faces, as if he was fully aware of what had been said, and was
perfectly ready to undertake the charge committed to him. He was an old
friend of mine, and would follow me as readily as he would Henry if I
let him loose, so that he possibly did not consider that he was about to
change masters. He was a very intelligent and powerful dog, a cross
between a mastiff and a Newfoundland dog. He was born in the island of
Portland, in Dorsetshire, his immediate ancestors having belonged to
some of the free trading population of that district, and employed in
the not very creditable occupation of carrying casks of spirits and
small bales of silks and laces into the interior, past the revenue
officers stationed there to prevent smuggling. So sagacious were those
dogs that they knew the appearance of a coastguardsman at a great
distance, and employed every stratagem to avoid him, so that they were
seldom captured or shot. Dogs trained in the same way are employed by
the contrabandists to carry smuggled goods across the frontiers of both
France and Portugal into Spain, in which country the high duties make
smuggling a profitable business. We had called Henry's dog Solon, from
the sagacity he displayed in everything in which he was called on to
take a part.
"The very thing, of all others, I am delighted to have," I exclaimed,
wringing Henry's hand. "I would rather have had you; but next to you, I
think Solon is likely to prove as true a friend as any one I shall meet
with. Dear old Solon, you will stick by me, I know, and help me to find
out Alfred, won't you? That I know you will, old fellow." Solon, as I
spoke to him, wagged his tail and licked my hand, and looked up in my
face, as if he thoroughly understood all I was saying.
Henry Raymond that day accompanied me and Herbert home, to assist, as he
said, in carrying my presents. My mother was much affected by the
kindness of my school-fellows, and more especially with the liberality
and consideration of our master, when Herbert told her that he was to go
back and attend school regularly as before.
"Your father was very kind, and procured me many pupils," he remarked.
"You need not consider yourself under any special obligation to me, for
I should indeed regret if you had not the opportunity of continuing your
studies at the most important period of your life. I need scarcely say
that the best way you can repay me is to study hard, and to obtain all
the advantage you can from the instruction I am happily able to afford
you."
The circumstances I have been describing shed a gleam of bright sunshine
over our late sorrowing household, and, as our mother said, she was sure
that the widow and the fatherless who place their trust in God's
protecting care will not be forgotten by him. The exertions my mother
and sisters were compelled to make to prepare my kit, allayed somewhat
their grief, at the same time that it reminded them of poor Alfred's
departure, and many a tear they dropped on account of both of us.
I had still to hunt about to get a ship, and as I was anxious to lose no
time, I resolved not to relax my search till I had found one. Of
course, I knew that if I had been able to go to one of the large
shipowners with a premium in my hand, and requested to be taken as an
apprentice, I should have had little difficulty about the matter; but as
I could not do that, I was compelled to try and obtain a berth by some
other means. One night I scarcely closed my eyes, being employed in
turning over in my mind various plans by which I fancied I might succeed
in my object. I bethought me at length that I would go to Mr Ward, my
father's old clerk. He had been very unwell ever since hearing of my
father's death; but I knew his lodgings, and I was sure he would give me
the best advice in his power, though he might not be able to help me in
a more practical way. This resolution may not appear a very great
result of a sleepless night's cogitations, yet I have found it often to
be the case, that although during the night I have fancied that I have
been thinking all sorts of important things, I have in the morning been
unable to derive from them more than some very simple and insignificant
results. I advise my readers, if they can help it, never to think at
night. Let them go to sleep, get up early, and while they are taking a
brisk walk in the bright, fresh air, let them think as much as they
can--their thoughts then will be of ten times more value than all the
produce of a sleepless night. A successful merchant once told me that
he made a practice of rising with the sun, and walking round and round
his grounds, while he laid plans for the day's work; and thus he got
nearly all his thinking done while enjoying pure air and exercise, and
while in the city had only to perform the less fatiguing duty of an
overseer to watch that his plans were carried out. The result of my
visit to Mr Ward I will detail in the following chapter.