Sunk at Sea | Page 5

you come round him nohow?"
"Impossible. He won't listen to reason."
"Ah, then, it's of no manner of use," said the captain, with a pitying
sigh, "when a man won't listen to reason, what's the consequence? why
he's unreasonable, which means bein' destitoot of that which raises him
above the brutes that perish. Such bein' the case, give it up for a bad job,
that's my advice. Come, I'll have a bottle o' ginger-beer, not bein' given
to strong drink, an' we'll talk over this matter."
Accordingly the beer was ordered, and the three sat there talking for a
couple of hours in reference to a long, long voyage to the southern seas.
After that they rose, and, leaving the Red Lion, went down to the pier,
where a boat was in waiting. It conveyed them to a large ship, whose
sails were hanging in the loose condition peculiar to a vessel ready to
set sail. An hour after that the anchor was raised, and wind and tide
carried the ship gently down to the sea. There seemed to Will
something very solemn and mysterious in the quiet way in which,
during these still and dark hours of the night, the great ship was slowly
moved towards her ocean cradle. At length she floated on the sea, and,
soon after, the moon arose on the distant horizon, streaming across the
rippling surface as if to kiss and welcome an old friend. The wind
increased; the ship became submissive to the breeze, obedient to the
helm, and ere long moved on the waters like "a thing of life," leaving
Old England far behind her.
It was then that young Osten, leaning over the taffrail and looking
wistfully back at the point where he had seen the last glimpse of the
chalk cliffs, began to experience the first feelings of regret. He tried to
quiet his conscience by recalling the harsh and unjustifiable conduct of
his father, but conscience would not be quieted thus, and faithful
memory reminded him of the many acts of kindness he had experienced
at his father's hands, while she pointed to his gentle mother, and bade
him reflect what a tremendous blow this sudden departure would be to
her.

Starting up and shaking off such thoughts, sternly he went below and
threw himself into his narrow cot, where conscience assailed him still
more powerfully and vividly in dreams. Thus did Wandering Will leave
his native land.
Commenting on his sudden departure, two days afterwards, Maryann
said, in strict confidence, to her bosom friend "Jemimar," that she
"know'd it would 'appen--or somethink simular, for, even w'en a hinfant,
he had refused to larf at her most smudgin' blandishments; and that she
knew somethink strange would come of it, though she would willingly
have given her last shilling to have prevented it, but nothink was of any
use tryin' of w'en one couldn't do it, as her 'usband, as was in the
mutton-pie line, said to the doctor the night afore he died,--and that her
'art was quite broken about it, so it was."
Whereupon Jemima finished to the dregs her last cup of tea, and burst
into a flood of tears.
CHAPTER THREE.
TELLS OF THE SEA, AND SOME OF THE MYSTERIES
CONNECTED THEREWITH.
For many days and nights the good ship Foam sailed the wide ocean
without encountering anything more than the ordinary vicissitudes and
experiences of sea-life. Dolphins were seen and captured, sharks were
fished for and caught, stiff breezes and calms succeeded each other,
constellations in the far north began to disappear and new
constellations arose in the southern skies. In fact, during many weeks
the voyage was prosperous, and young Will Osten began to experience
those peculiar feelings with which all travellers are more or less
acquainted--he felt that the ship was "home"; that his cabin with its
furniture, which had appeared so small and confined at first, was quite
a large and roomy place; that all the things about him were positive
realities, and that the home of his childhood was a shadow of the past--
a sort of dream.
During all this time the young doctor led a busy life. He was one of

those active, intelligent, inquiring spirits which cannot rest. To acquire
information was with him not a duty, but a pleasure. Before he had
been many days at sea he knew the name and use of every rope, sail,
block, tackle, and spar in the ship, and made himself quite a favourite
with the men by the earnestness with which he questioned them in
regard to nautical matters and their own personal experiences. George
Goff, the sail-maker, said he "was a fust-rate feller;" and Larry O'Hale,
the cook, declared, "he was a trump intirely, an' ought to have been
born an