I was not assigned to any particular occupation, or watch; but no
advantage was taken of this circumstance, on the captain's part, to make
me do too much, or by me to do too little.
I was generally on deck all the day; and whenever I saw anything useful
that I could do, it was done.
In this way, both watches had the aid of my valuable services--which,
however, were not always sufficiently appreciated to prevent a few sharp
words being applied to me. But a boy aboard of a ship soon learns to
take no notice of such trifles.
I was ordered to mess with the sailmaker, who--as I afterwards learnt--
was directed by the captain to look well after me.
On our arrival in Liverpool, the ship was docked, and the crew went
ashore, with the exception of two men--both strangers to me--who with
myself were left on board.
One of the men had something to do with the Custom House; and tried hard
to induce me to go ashore, along with the rest of the crew. But the
ship being my only home, I was not willing to leave her; and I resisted
all the inducements held out by the Custom House officer to that effect.
The captain had gone away from the ship, after seeing her safe into
port; but I would not leave the vessel lest I should never meet him
again: for something told me he was my truest friend.
The next day he came on board again; and seemed rather surprised at
finding me there.
"Ah! little Rolling Stone," said he, "I've been inquiring for you; and
am pleased to see you have not gone ashore. What do you intend to do
with yourself?"
"Stay here," I answered, "until the ship sails again."
"No, you can't stop here," said the captain. "You must come ashore, and
live somewhere--until the ship is made ready for sea."
He continued to talk with me for half-an-hour; and obtained from me a
full account of the circumstances under which I had left my home.
"If I thought that you would stay with me, and do something for
yourself," said Captain Hyland, after hearing my story, "I would
endeavour to make a man of you."
My reply to this was, that I preferred a life on the sea to any other,
and that I left Captain Brannon, for the simple reason that I did not
like either him, or the man who had placed me under his control.
"Very well," said the captain, "I'll keep you awhile on trial; and if
you prove ungrateful for what I shall do for you, you will injure
yourself, more than you can me."
After this conversation, he took me ashore, bought me a suit of clothes;
and then told me to accompany him to his own home.
I found that Captain Hyland had a wife and one child--a girl about ten
years of age.
I thought there could be nothing in the universe more beautiful than
that girl. Perhaps there was not. Why should not my opinion on such
subjects be as correct as that of others? But no man living could have
looked upon Lenore Hyland, without being convinced that she was very
beautiful.
Six weeks passed before the ship was again ready for sea; and during
that time I resided at the captain's house, and was the constant
companion of his little daughter, Lenore.
In the interval, my kind protector asked me--whether I would not like to
go to Dublin for a few days, and see my mother.
I told him that the "Hope" would then be in Dublin; and that I would
certainly be handed over to Captain Brannon.
He reflected for a moment; and then allowed the subject to drop.
I did feel some anxiety concerning my relatives; but was too happy in
Liverpool, to change my condition by going to visit them.
In order to satisfy my conscience, I thought of several reasons why I
should not go home. They were easily found: for very idiotic, indeed,
is that mind that cannot find arguments, in support of desires emanating
from itself--whether they be right or wrong.
I knew that in whatever state I might find my relatives--or whatever
might have been the conduct of Mr Leary towards them--I would be
powerless either to aid them or punish him.
I strove my best to make as little trouble as possible in my new home,
and to gain the good will of Mrs Hyland. I had every reason to believe
that my efforts were successful.
In justice to her, I should state that my task was not so difficult, as
it would have been with most women: for she was a kind-hearted lady, who
had the discernment to perceive that I was anxious to deserve, as well
as obtain her esteem.
Before the ship was ready to sail, Lenore had learnt to call me
_brother_; and when parting with her to go on board, her sorrow was
expressed in a manner that gave me much gratification.
Perhaps it is wrong for any one to feel pleasure at the demonstrations
of another's grief; but there are circumstances when such will be the
case, whether wrong or not. Unfortunate, indeed, is that lonely being,
who has not in the wide world one acquaintance from whom he can part,
with eyes dimmed by the bright drops of sorrow.
There are thousands of seamen, who have wandered long and far from every
early tie of kindred and friendship. They form no others; but wander
over the earth unloving, unloved and unknown--as wretched, reckless and
lone, as the "last man," spoken of by the poet Campbell.
There is ever a bright spot in the soul of that man, who has reason to
believe that there is some one, who thinks of him with kindness when far
away; and that one bright spot will often point out the path of virtue--
which otherwise might have been passed, undiscovered, or unheeded.
Volume One, Chapter VII.