Peter Trawl | Page 3

it came in. I laughed, and did not feel a
bit afraid, because when I looked up at father's face I saw that there was
nothing to be afraid about. At length the mate seemed to think that we
were carrying on too long.
"Doctor Cockle is not accustomed to this sort of thing," he observed.
"Hadn't we better take in a reef or two?"
"Not if you wish to get aboard your ship, sir, before night," answered
father. "I know my boat, and I know what she'll do. Trust me, sir, and
in less than half-an-hour you'll be safe alongside the Intrepid."
The mate seemed satisfied, and began talking to me, amused at the way
I sat bobbing, as the spray came aboard, under an old pea-jacket which
father had thrown over my shoulders, and grinning when I found that I
had escaped the shower by which the others got well sprinkled.
"I'll not forget you, my little fellow," he said, laughing. "You'll make a
prime seaman one of these days. Will you remember my name?"
"Yes, sir, I think I shall, and your face too," I answered.
"You are a sharp chap, I see," he observed, in the same tone as before.
"Do you intend to make a sailor of him?" he asked, turning to father.

"Not if I can find a better calling for the boy, sir," answered father.
"I've heard say, and believe it, that man proposes and God disposes. It
mayn't be in my power to choose for him."
"Ay, ay, you're right there, my friend," said the mate. "If he had been as
old as his brother I would have given him a berth aboard the Intrepid."
It may seem curious that, young as I was, I should have remembered
these remarks, but so it was, and I had reason long afterwards to do so.
Even sooner than father had said we had hooked on to the whaler, a
barque of about three hundred tons, her black hull rising high out of the
water, and with three boats, sharp at both ends, hoisted up to davits in a
line on each side. The good-natured mate having paid the fare and
given me a bright shilling in addition, helped the doctor, who wasn't
very well able to help himself, up on deck, and we then, shoving off,
stood for the man-of-war brig.
Jack almost broke down as we approached her. Not that he was
unwilling to go away, but that he was very sorry to part from father and
me, and I know that we were very sorry to part with him.
"Jack, my son," said father, and his voice wasn't as firm as usual, "we
may never meet again on this side the grave. You may be taken or I
may be taken. What I want to say to you is this, and they may be
well-nigh the last words you will ever hear me speak. Ever remember
that God's eye is upon you, and so live that you may be prepared at any
moment to die. I can't say more than that, my boy. Bless you. God bless
you."
"I will, father, I will," answered Jack, and he passed the back of his
hand across his eyes.
We were soon up to the brig. He gave me a hug and a kiss, and then,
having made fast the end of the rope hove to us, he griped father's hand,
and sprang up the side of the brig. His bag was hoisted up after him by
an old shipmate of father's, who sang out, "All right, Trawl, I'll look
after your boy!"

We had at once to shove off, for the brig was rolling considerably, and
there was a risk of the wherry being swamped alongside. As we stood
away I looked astern. Jack had climbed into the fore-rigging and was
waving to us. We soon lost sight of him. When, if ever, should we see
him again?
Having the wind and tide with us, we quickly ran back into the harbour.
For reasons which will appear by-and-by I ought to say a few words
respecting my family, though I don't flatter myself the world in general
will be much concerned about the matter. Some people are said to be
born with silver spoons in their mouths; if that means, as I suppose it
does, that from their earliest days they enjoy all the luxuries of life,
then I may say that when I first saw the light I must have had a very
rough wooden one between my toothless gums. However, as I've often
since thought, it isn't so much what a man is born to which signifies, as
what he becomes by his honesty, steadiness, perseverance, and above
all by his earnest desire to