The carrier's cart stopped on a height above the little town of Oldport.
Peter gazed with wonder and admiration on the wide ocean spread out
before him, now bright and shining under a blue sky and light summer
breeze. It surpassed his utmost expectations--a beautiful highway it
seemed to those distant regions he had longed to visit, and he fancied
that there could be no impediment in his course till he could reach
them.
As soon as the carrier had deposited him and his bundle at the inn close
to the harbour, he set out to walk along the quay, and looked at the
vessels whose tall masts rose in a long row above it. As he had never
before seen a vessel, he was unable to judge of their size; to his eyes
they seemed mighty ships, capable of battling with the wildest waves
which could ever rage across the bosom of the deep. They were in
reality colliers or other small coasters, as no vessels of any size
could enter the harbour. He was ready to go on board the first which
would receive him.
Peter had never had any playmates or young companions. He had lived
alone with his mother, who had taught him to read, and trained him in
the love and fear of God. The Bible was almost the only book he knew.
He was, in consequence, grave beyond his years. The few neighbours used
to laugh at him as "an odd, old-fashioned little fellow," as, indeed, he
was; but everybody respected and trusted him.
He walked up and down the quay once or twice before he could make up his
mind what to do. At last he determined to address a sailor-looking man
who was leaning against a stout post round which two or three hawsers
from the neighbouring vessels were secured.
"Is one of those ships there yours?" asked Peter, in a hesitating tone.
"Why do you want to know, my lad?" inquired the seaman.
"Because I want to go and be a sailor in one of them," said Peter.
"Then take my advice, and give up wanting," said the seaman. "Better by
half remain on shore, and tend sheep and cattle, as I have a notion you
have been doing. None of the vessels are mine; I am only mate in the
_John and Mary_, yonder," pointing to a schooner which lay alongside the
quay. "We have got a boy, and I would not have a hand in taking any
youngster away from home unless he knew more about what he would have to
go through than I suspect you do. Now go back, lad, whence you came,"
continued the mate, folding his arms and puffing away at the pipe he had
in his mouth.
One or two other sailors laughed at him or roughly turned aside without
deigning to answer.
At last he reached a two-masted vessel, in reality a brig, somewhat
larger than the rest, but her deck was black with coal-dust, and
everything about her had a dark, grimy look. A rough, black-bearded,
strongly-built man, better dressed than some of those he had spoken to,
was stepping on shore by the plank which formed a communication between
the vessel and the quay. Peter guessed rightly that he was the captain.
Beginning to feel that his hope of going to sea was less likely to be
accomplished than he had expected, he determined, with a feeling
somewhat akin to desperation, to address him, though the expression of
his countenance was far from encouraging.
"Do you want a boy on board your ship, sir?" he said, touching his hat,
as his mother had taught him to do when addressing his betters.
"What, run away from home?" asked the man, stopping, and looking down
upon him.
"I have no home, sir," answered Peter.
"What, no father and mother?"
"No, sir," said Peter. "Mother is dead, and father, they say, is dead,
too."
"Then you will do for me. As it happens, I do want a boy. Here, Jim,"
he said, turning round, and addressing a sailor as rough-looking as he
was himself, but much dirtier, who appeared at the companion-hatch;
"here's a lad for you. You had better keep an eye on him, as maybe he
will change his mind, and run off again. Go aboard, boy," he added,
turning to Peter, "Jim will look after you, and show you what you have
got to do."
The captain went into the town, and old Jim, who proved to be the mate,
took charge of Peter.
Old Jim asked him several questions. The answers which Peter gave
appeared to satisfy him.
Peter inquired the captain's name.
"Captain Hawkes; and our brig is the _Polly_," answered Jim. "You won't
find a finer craft between this and `No man's land,' if you know where
that is."
Peter saw that she was the largest vessel in the harbour, and so readily
believed what the mate said.
The old man asked him if he was hungry, and Peter acknowledging; that
such was the case, he took him down into the cabin, and after giving him
some bread and ham, offered him a tumbler of rum and water. Peter, who
had never tasted spirits, said he would rather not take the rum, whereon
old Jim laughed at him and drank it himself.
"We shall all get under weigh with the evening tide if the wind holds
fair, for it's off the land you see, and will take us out of the
harbour," he observed. "You had better lie down till then on the locker
and get some sleep, for may be you will find your first night at sea
rather strange to you."
"Where is the vessel going to?" asked Peter, who fully expected to be
told that it was to the Holy Land, or India, or some of the few other
distant countries of which he had heard.
"We are bound to Newcastle first to take in coals, and it's more than I
can tell you where we shall go after that."
"Is Newcastle in a far-off country?" asked Peter.
"It's a good bit from here," said old Jim; "and if you want to be a
sailor, you will have a fair chance of learning before the voyage is
out, and so take my advice and don't trouble yourself about the matter.
Do as I tell you, just lie down--you would have slept all the sounder if
you had taken the grog, though."
Old Jim was afraid, perhaps, that Peter would get talking to the rest of
the crew, and hear something about Captain Hawkes which might induce him
to go on shore again, the last boy having run from the ship, though
shoeless and penniless, rather than endure the treatment he had
received.
Peter, not suspecting old Jim's motive, sat down on the locker in the
cabin. Not feeling disposed to sleep he took up his Bible, as he had
been accustomed to do when tending sheep on the Springvale downs, and
began to read. Old Jim gazed at him with open eyes. To see a
ship's-boy reading a book, and that book the Bible, as he guessed it to
be, was entirely out of his experience. "He must be a curious chap," he
said to himself; "I don't know that he will suit us, after all; but then
he will soon get all that knocked out of him I have a notion."
Peter, who never failed to pray that God's Holy Spirit would enlighten
his mind when he read the Bible, was so completely absorbed in perusing
the sacred page, that he did not observe old Jim's glances, nor hear his
muttered words. At length, feeling his eyes heavy, he closed the book
and replaced it in his bosom. Then he lay down, as he had been advised,
on the locker, and was soon fast asleep. The fatigue he had gone
through, and the heat of the cabin, made him sleep soundly, and he did
not hear the noise of the men's feet on deck as the warps were cast off,
or their "yeo! yeo! yeos!" as they hoisted the sails.
The captain, who came into the cabin to deposit his papers and several
articles he had brought on board, did not rouse him up, and the _Polly_
gliding smoothly out of the harbour, was some distance from the land
before he awoke.
The sun, a bright ball of fire setting the heavens all ablaze, was
sinking into the ocean astern when Peter made his way on deck; the coast
with its sandy bays, rocky cliffs, and lofty headlands, their western
sides tinged with a ruddy glow appearing on the left, while the calm
ocean of an almost purple tint with a golden hue cast across it,
stretched away to the right.
Peter felt its beauty and majestic tranquillity far more than he could
have found words to express. The dark sails, the dirty deck, the
begrimed countenances and slovenly dress of the crew contrasted with the
purity of the sky and ocean all around.
The captain and old Jim his mate were standing aft, speaking to each
other. They were apparently talking about him, for they cast their
glances towards where he stood looking round and uncertain what to do.
He was aroused by the captain shouting to him: "You are one of the
sleeping order, youngster, I see; you have had a long snooze; you will
have to keep your eyes open in future. What is your name?"
"Peter Gray, sir," answered the boy.
"Peter is enough for us," said the captain. "Now go forward; your berth
is in the forepeak, you will understand; and Jim and the cook will find
you work enough. You don't expect to be idle?"
"No, sir," said Peter, "I came to learn to be a sailor."
"They will teach you, and fast enough, too, with a rope's-end if you
don't look sharp about you," said the captain, with a laugh, "and soon
make you dip your hands in the tar-bucket and swash-tub. Have you got
any working duds with you?"
"I don't know what duds mean, sir," answered Peter.
"Not know what duds mean, and you a sailor's son, as you tell me?
Clothes, to be sure," cried the captain, laughing again.
"I have got another suit for Sundays, when I go to church, sir,"
answered Peter.
The captain and old Jim laughed in chorus at the reply.
"We have no Sundays aboard here, and don't carry church steeples at our
mast-heads," cried the former, again laughing at his own wit as he
considered it.
He and his mate were in a merry mood, for they had just had one
successful voyage, and as the weather was fine they hoped to make
another. The captain himself had taken a parting-glass or two with his
friends on shore. So little Peter found him and his mate in their best
humour.
"Do you hear, boy?" cried the captain, seeing that Peter did not move;
"go forward and see what they have got for you to do."
Peter did not know where forward was, but observing the direction in
which the captain was looking, supposed it to be at the other end of the
ship.
"I left my bundle down-stairs there, sir; shall I take it with me?" he
asked.
Again the captain and mate laughed. Of course they felt their
superiority to the poor ignorant little shepherd-boy.
"We have no down-stairs here, no more than we have Sundays; but your
bundle is not to stop in my cabin, I should think. Get it and take it
with you."
Peter, having got his bundle from below, went forward, accompanied by
old Jim.
"Now, lads," said the latter to the four unkempt beings who formed the
crew of the _Polly_, "here is a boy for you, and just see he don't go
overboard or run away; the skipper is tired of getting lads to do your
work."
The men looked at little Peter and grinned. "Now, boy," said old Jim,
turning to Peter, "come below and I'll show you your berth. You must
keep your eyes wide open, or may be you will not see it."
The mate descended through a small hatchway by an upright ladder into a
dark place, where Peter, as he was bid, followed him. He could hear the
mate's voice, but could not distinguish him in the gloom, which at first
appeared impenetrable.
"Come here," cried the mate. "What, are you blind?"
Peter was stretching out his hands trying to grope his way. By degrees
a glimmer of light which came down the hatchway enabled him to
distinguish old Jim, and as his eyes became more accustomed to the
gloom, he discovered that he was in a triangular-shaped place, with
shelves on either side which formed the bunks or standing bed-places of
the crew, the heel of the bowsprit making a division in the fore part.
Some chests were on the floor, and thick coats, sou'-westers, with
numerous other articles, were hung up against the bulk-heads, which
formed the third side of the forepeak.
"That's your berth," said old Jim, pointing to the foremost
sleeping-place in the bow of the vessel. "The boy who has gone has left
his blankets, so you will have the use of them. And mind when you are
called you turn out pretty quick; we cannot have laggards aboard the
_Polly_."
"Thank you, sir," said Peter, depositing his bundle in the dark,
close-smelling bunk. "I am accustomed to be afoot by daybreak, to look
after Farmer Ashton's sheep."
"You will have something different from sheep to look after; and night
and day at sea are the same. All hands don't turn in and sleep till the
sun is up, or the ship would be apt to lose her way."
A laugh at the mate's wit from some of the other men who had followed
them into the forepeak, was heard out of the darkness. When the mate
was gone, they gathered round Peter and began to amuse themselves at his
expense. He, however, took their jeers quietly, not attempting to
reply; indeed, as he did not clearly understand their meaning, the jokes
generally fell harmless. Finding at length that they could not irritate
him, they told him to go on deck to help Bill. Bill was the man who did
duty as cook. Peter found him in the caboose; he was as black and grimy
as a negro, with grease and coal-dust.
"They told me you wanted me, Bill," said Peter.
"Yes," growled Bill, "clean out those pots and wash up the dishes and
plates in that tub. Here is some hot water for you."
Peter performed the work to the cook's satisfaction. He gave him some
bread and a piece of bacon for his supper, as he had eaten nothing since
the afternoon.
Peter was standing watching the moon, whose full orb as it rose in the
sky shed a silvery light over the ocean, a spectacle novel and beautiful
to him, when old Jim, in a gruff voice, told him to go and turn in.
Though he would infinitely have preferred remaining on deck, he did as
he was bid.
He did not omit, before he took off his clothes, to kneel down and pray
for protection for himself and all on board. No one saw the young boy
in the attitude of prayer, or he would not have escaped interruption,
but Peter knew that God saw him and heard him. Young and humble as he
was, and unpromising as were the manners of those among whom he had been
thrown, he felt no fear. His mind was at rest. He climbed into his
berth and was soon asleep.