Jack in the Forecastle | Page 2

and a goodly share of quiet energy and perseverance, modified by
an excess of diffidence, which to this day I have never been able to
overcome.
I had already found in a taste for reading a valuable and never- failing
source of information and amusement. This attachment to books has
attended me through life, and been a comfort and solace in difficulties,
perplexities, and perils. My parents, also, early ingrafted on my mind
strict moral principles; taught me to distinguish between right and

wrong; to cherish a love of truth, and even a chivalric sense of honor
and honesty. To this, perhaps, more than to any other circumstance,
may be attributed whatever success and respectability has attended my
career through life. It has enabled me to resist temptations to evil with
which I was often surrounded, and to grapple with and triumph over
obstacles that might otherwise have overwhelmed me.
When I reached Portsmouth, my kinsman, Captain Tilton, gave me an
ungracious reception. He rebuked me severely for expressing a
determination to go to sea.
"Go to sea!" he exclaimed in a tone of the most sovereign contempt.
"Ridiculous! You are a noodle for thinking of such a thing. A sailor's
life is a dog's life at best! Besides, you are not fit for a sailor, either by
habits, taste, or constitution. With such a pale face, and slight figure,
and sheepish look, how can you expect to fight the battle of life on the
ocean, and endure all the crosses, the perils, and the rough- and-tumble
of a sailor's life? Hawser, you are not fit for a sailor. You had much
better go home and try something else."
Finding me unconvinced by his arguments, and unshaken in my
determination, he concluded his remarks by asking me abruptly the
startling question, "Are you ready to die?"
I replied, that I had not bestowed much thought on the subject; but
frankly admitted I was not altogether prepared for such a solemn event.
"Then, Hawser," said he with marked emphasis, "if you are not
prepared to die to die of YELLOW FEVER don't go to Demarara at
this season of the year!" And he left the room abruptly, apparently
disgusted at my obstinacy.
On the following day, Captain Tilton took me on board the brig
Dolphin. I did not mark her imperfections, which were many. She was
a vessel, bound on a voyage to a foreign port, and, therefore, I was
charmed with her appearance. In my eyes she was a model of
excellence; as beautiful and graceful as the celebrated barge in which
Cleopatra descended the Cyndnus to meet Mark Antony.
The captain led me to the mate, who was busily engaged about the
decks. "Mr. Thompson," said he, "here is a lad who wants to go to sea,
and I have foolishly engaged to take him as a cabin boy. Keep him on
board the brig; look sharp after him; don't let him have an idle moment;
and, if possible, make him useful in some way until the vessel is ready

for sea."
Mr. William Thompson was a worthy man, who subsequently became a
shipmaster and merchant of great respectability in Portsmouth. He
treated me with consideration and kindness, and took pleasure in
teaching me the details of the business I was about to undertake.
During the few days in which the Dolphin lay at the wharf I gained
much nautical information. I learned the names of the different parts of
a vessel; of the different masts, and some portions of the rigging. But
the great number of ropes excited my admiration. I thought a lifetime
would hardly suffice to learn their different names and purposes. I
accomplished successfully the feat of going aloft; and one memorable
day, assisted the riggers in "bending sails," and received an ill- natured
rebuke from a crusty old tar, for my stupidity in failing to understand
him when he told me to "pass the gasket: while furling the fore-topsail.
Instead of passing the gasket around the yard, I gravely handed him a
marlinspike!
In the course of my desultory reading, I had learned that vessels at sea
were liable to "spring a leak," which was one of the most dreaded perils
of navigation; and I had a vague notion that the hold of a ship was
always so arranged that a leak could be discovered and stopped. I was,
therefore, not a little puzzled when I found the hold of the Dolphin was
crammed with lumber; not a space having been left large enough to
stow away the ghost of a belaying pin. Finding the captain in a pleasant
mood one day, I ventured to ask him what would be the consequence if
the brig should spring a leak in her bottom.
"Spring a leak in