My First Voyage to Southern Seas

First Voyage to Southern Seas,
by W.H.G. Kingston

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Title: My First Voyage to Southern Seas
Author: W.H.G. Kingston
Illustrator: A. Pearse
Release Date: May 16, 2007 [EBook #21504]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY FIRST
VOYAGE TO SOUTHERN SEAS ***

Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

My First Voyage to Southern Seas, by W.H.G. Kingston.
CHAPTER ONE.

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,