The History of Little Peter, the Ship Boy | Page 5

waves
which could ever rage across the bosom of the deep. They were in
reality colliers or other small coasters, as no vessels of any size could
enter the harbour. He was ready to go on board the first which would
receive him.
Peter had never had any playmates or young companions. He had lived
alone with his mother, who had taught him to read, and trained him in
the love and fear of God. The Bible was almost the only book he knew.
He was, in consequence, grave beyond his years. The few neighbours
used to laugh at him as "an odd, old-fashioned little fellow," as, indeed,
he was; but everybody respected and trusted him.
He walked up and down the quay once or twice before he could make
up his mind what to do. At last he determined to address a
sailor-looking man who was leaning against a stout post round which
two or three hawsers from the neighbouring vessels were secured.
"Is one of those ships there yours?" asked Peter, in a hesitating tone.
"Why do you want to know, my lad?" inquired the seaman.
"Because I want to go and be a sailor in one of them," said Peter.
"Then take my advice, and give up wanting," said the seaman. "Better
by half remain on shore, and tend sheep and cattle, as I have a notion
you have been doing. None of the vessels are mine; I am only mate in
the John and Mary, yonder," pointing to a schooner which lay
alongside the quay. "We have got a boy, and I would not have a hand in
taking any youngster away from home unless he knew more about what

he would have to go through than I suspect you do. Now go back, lad,
whence you came," continued the mate, folding his arms and puffing
away at the pipe he had in his mouth.
One or two other sailors laughed at him or roughly turned aside without
deigning to answer.
At last he reached a two-masted vessel, in reality a brig, somewhat
larger than the rest, but her deck was black with coal-dust, and
everything about her had a dark, grimy look. A rough, black-bearded,
strongly-built man, better dressed than some of those he had spoken to,
was stepping on shore by the plank which formed a communication
between the vessel and the quay. Peter guessed rightly that he was the
captain. Beginning to feel that his hope of going to sea was less likely
to be accomplished than he had expected, he determined, with a feeling
somewhat akin to desperation, to address him, though the expression of
his countenance was far from encouraging.
"Do you want a boy on board your ship, sir?" he said, touching his hat,
as his mother had taught him to do when addressing his betters.
"What, run away from home?" asked the man, stopping, and looking
down upon him.
"I have no home, sir," answered Peter.
"What, no father and mother?"
"No, sir," said Peter. "Mother is dead, and father, they say, is dead,
too."
"Then you will do for me. As it happens, I do want a boy. Here, Jim,"
he said, turning round, and addressing a sailor as rough-looking as he
was himself, but much dirtier, who appeared at the companion-hatch;
"here's a lad for you. You had better keep an eye on him, as maybe he
will change his mind, and run off again. Go aboard, boy," he added,
turning to Peter, "Jim will look after you, and show you what you have
got to do."

The captain went into the town, and old Jim, who proved to be the mate,
took charge of Peter.
Old Jim asked him several questions. The answers which Peter gave
appeared to satisfy him.
Peter inquired the captain's name.
"Captain Hawkes; and our brig is the Polly," answered Jim. "You won't
find a finer craft between this and `No man's land,' if you know where
that is."
Peter saw that she was the largest vessel in the harbour, and so readily
believed what the mate said.
The old man asked him if he was hungry, and Peter acknowledging;
that such was the case, he took him down into the cabin, and after
giving him some bread and ham, offered him a tumbler of rum and
water. Peter, who had never tasted spirits, said he would rather not take
the rum, whereon old Jim laughed at him and drank it himself.
"We shall all get under weigh with the evening tide if the wind holds
fair, for it's off the land you see, and will take us out of the harbour," he
observed. "You had better lie down till then on the locker and get some
sleep, for may be you will find