Peter the Whaler | Page 7

it.
"A pretty companion for the son of the vicar of ---. Take away his gun,
O'Rourke," he said to the keeper, "and the game: to that he has no right.
And now, young gentleman, I shall see your father on this matter
shortly. If he chooses to let his son commit depredations on my
property, he must take the consequences."
"I came out without my father's knowledge, and he is in no way to
blame," I answered quickly; for I could not bear to have any reflection
cast on my father through my fault.
Lord Fetherston looked at me attentively, and I think I heard him
muttering something like, "He is a brave lad, and must be rescued from

such companionship;" but I am not quite certain.
"Well, sir, you at all events must not escape punishment," he replied
aloud. "For the present, I leave you in the custody of my keepers. You
see the condition to which you have reduced yourself."
He then gave some orders to one of the keepers, which I did not hear;
and without further noticing me he walked on, while they led me away
towards Fetherston Abbey, his lordship's residence. I need scarcely say
that my feelings were very wretched, and full of shame; and yet
perhaps I would rather it should thus have happened, than that I should
have been compelled to go back to my father. It was perhaps somewhat
of a consolation to feel that I was being justly punished, and yet not by
my father's hand. I don't know that I thought this at the time, but I know
that I did afterwards. And then, when days had passed, and many other
events had occurred, I felt very grateful that Providence had thus
disposed of me, and had preserved me from a fate which in all human
probability would have been mine had I this time escaped with
impunity.
Lord Fetherston was a magistrate, and consequently in the Abbey there
was a strong room, in which, on occasion, prisoners were locked up
before they were carried off to jail. Into this room I was led, and with a
heavy heart I heard the key turned in the lock, and found myself alone.
If I had wished to escape I could not; and there were no books, or other
means of amusement, so that I was left to my own reflections. A
servant, who would not answer any questions, brought me in some
dinner, which I could scarcely taste; and at night a small bed,
ready-made, was brought in, and I was again left to myself. Two days
thus passed away: my obstinate spirit was completely broken, and I
must say that I truly had repented of all my folly and idleness. On the
third day the door opened, and my father appeared. He looked very sad,
but not angry. He took a chair and sat down, while I stood before him.
For more than a minute he could not speak.
"Peter," he at length said, "I do not come to reproach you: the grief I
and your mother feel, and what you will have to endure henceforth, will
be, I trust, sufficient punishment. We must part with you, my son; we

have no choice. You must go to foreign lands, and there retrieve your
name, and, I trust, improve and strengthen your character. You have
placed yourself and me in Lord Fetherston's power. He insists on it, that
you shall forthwith be sent to sea; and on that condition he promises to
overlook all that has occurred. He did not even speak harshly of you;
and I am fain to believe that what he has decided is for the best. At my
earnest solicitation, he consented that you should take only a short
voyage first to North America, provided that you sail without delay.
Accordingly, I have agreed to set off to-morrow with you for Liverpool,
whence many ships sail for that part of the world, and I dare say that I
shall find some captain to take charge of you. Do you consent to abide
by this arrangement?"
"I think Lord Fetherston is right," I replied. "The life of a sailor, if what
I know of it is correct (little in truth did I know of it), will just suit me;
and though I regret to go as I am going, and grieve to wound my
mother's heart, yet I consider that I am very leniently dealt with, and
will gladly accept the conditions." So it was settled, and my father led
me out of my prison. Lord Fetherston met us as we left the mansion.
"My son gratefully accepts your conditions, my lord," said my father,
colouring. His pride, I fear, was humbled to the dust (alas! through me)