From Powder Monkey to Admiral | Page 4

wind ahead.
Jack, Tom, and Bill looked at each other, wondering what was next
going to happen. They were all three of about the same age, and much
of a height, and somehow, as I have said, they found themselves
standing close together.
They were too much astonished, not to say frightened, to talk just then,
though they all three had tongues in their heads, so they listened to the
conversation going on around them.
"Why, mate, where do you come from?" asked a long-shore chap of
one of the whitey-brown-faced gentlemen.
"Oh, I've jist dropped from the clouds; don't know where else I've come
from," was the answer.
"I suppose you got your hair cropped off as you came down?" was the
next query.
"Yes! it was the wind did it as I came scuttling down," answered the
other, who was evidently never at a loss what to say. "And now, mate,
just tell me how did you get on board this craft?" he inquired.

"I swam off, of course, seized with a fit of patriotism, and determined
to fight for the honour and glory of old England," was the answer.
It cannot, however, be said that this is a fair specimen of the
conversation; indeed, it would benefit no one were what was said to be
repeated.
Jack, Tom, and Bill felt very much as a person might be supposed to do
who had dropped from the moon. Everything around them was so
strange and bewildering, for not one of them had ever before been on
board a ship, and Bill had never even seen one. Having not been much
accustomed to the appearance of trees, he had some idea that the masts
grew out of the deck, that the yards were branches, and the blocks
curious leaves; not that amid the fearful uproar, and what seemed to
him the wildest confusion, he could think of anything clearly.
Bill Rayner had certainly not been born with a silver spoon in his
mouth. His father he had never known. His mother lived in a garret and
died in a garret, although not before, happily for him, he was able to do
something for himself, and, still more happily, not before she had
impressed right principles on his mind. As the poor woman lay on her
deathbed, taking her boy's hands and looking earnestly into his eyes,
she said, "Be honest, Bill, in the sight of God. Never forget that He sees
you, and do your best to please Him. No fear about the rest. I am not
much of a scholar, but I know that's right. If others try to persuade you
to do what's wrong, don't listen to them. Promise me, Bill, that you will
do as I tell you."
"I promise, mother, that I will," answered Bill; and, small lad as he was,
meant what he said.
Poor as she was, being a woman of some education, his mother had
taught him to read and write and cipher--not that he was a great adept at
any of those arts, but he possessed the groundwork, which was an
important matter; and he did his best to keep up his knowledge by
reading sign-boards, looking into book-sellers' windows, and studying
any stray leaves he could obtain.

Bill's mother was buried in a rough shell by the parish, and Bill went
out into the world to seek his fortune. He took to curious ways,--
hunting in dust-heaps for anything worth having; running errands when
he could get any one to send him; holding horses for gentlemen, but
that was not often; doing duty as a link-boy at houses when grand
parties were going forward or during foggy weather; for Bill, though he
often went supperless to his nest, either under a market-cart, or in a
cask by the river side, or in some other out-of-the-way place, generally
managed to have a little capital with which to buy a link; but the said
capital did not grow much, for bad times coming swallowed it all up.
Bill, as are many other London boys, was exposed to temptations of all
sorts; often when almost starving, without a roof to sleep under, or a
friend to whom he could appeal for help, his shoes worn out, his
clothing too scanty to keep him warm; but, ever recollecting his
mother's last words, he resisted them all. One day, having wandered
farther east than he had ever been before, he found himself in the
presence of a press-gang, who were carrying off a party of men and
boys to the river's edge. One of the man-of-war's men seized upon him,
and Bill, thinking that matters could not be much worse with him than
they were at present, willingly accompanied the party, though he had
very little notion