The Log of a Privateersman | Page 3

years. The first year of

my apprenticeship was spent aboard a collier, trading between the Tyne
and Weymouth; then I was transferred for three years to a Levant trader;
and finally I was promoted--as I considered it--into the Weymouth,
West Indiaman, which brings me back to the point from whence this bit
of explanation started.
The modest cottage which I called home was situated in the picturesque
little village of Wyke; I had therefore a walk of some two miles before
me when I left Mr White's office; and as I sped along the road I
beguiled the way by building the most magnificent of castles in the air.
After the brief peace of Amiens, war had again broken out in May of
the preceding year; and everybody was of opinion that the struggle
which then commenced was destined to be of quite exceptional
duration and severity. Then, again, it was well-known that Spain was
only waiting for a sufficiently plausible pretext to declare war against
us; and that pretext, it was believed, would be found in the capture by a
British squadron of the three Spanish treasure-ships Medea, Clara, and
Fama, news of which had just reached England. All this was of course
simply disastrous from a commercial point of view; but for navy men
and privateersmen it opened up a long vista of opportunities to win
both distinction and fortune; for it gave us the marine commerce of
three rich and powerful nations--France, Holland, and Spain--as a
lawful prey. Fortunes of almost fabulous magnitude had been made by
lucky privateersmen during the last war; and was there not even then
living in Weymouth the heroic Captain Tizard, who had captured a
Spanish Plate ship and sailed into Plymouth Sound with his prize in
tow, and a massive gold candlestick glittering at each mast-head? And
if others had done such things, why not we? I knew Captain Winter for
a man who not only had every detail of his profession at his fingers'
ends, but who also combined the highest courage with the nicest
discretion and a subtlety of resource that had already served us in good
stead on more than one occasion. Then there was Robert Lovell, our
chief mate, late of the Weymouth. He, like the captain, was a finished
seaman; bold as a lion; and knew exactly how to deal with a crew,
encouraging those who did their duty, while the idle skulkers found in
him a terrible enemy.

Our late second mate--a man named Penrose, who had only been one
voyage with us--had not given the skipper satisfaction; he had proved
to be untrustworthy, overbearing, obstinate, unscrupulous, and
altogether objectionable, so I was not at all surprised to find that he had
been passed over; but it was a surprise, and a most agreeable one, too,
to learn that the captain had recommended me in place of him. It was a
responsible post, more so even than that of second mate in an ordinary
trader; but I had no fear of myself, and was quite determined to leave
nothing undone to justify "the old man's" recommendation.
Thus pondering, I soon found myself at home. Truth compels me to
admit that I was greatly disappointed with the reception that my good
news met with at the hands of Aunt Sophie and Dora. Instead of
congratulating me they wept! wept because I was so soon to leave them
again, and because of the dangerous character of my new berth! They
declared their conviction that I should be killed by the first enemy that
we might happen to fall in with; or, if I were fortunate enough to escape
death, that I should be brought home to them a miserable, helpless
cripple, minus a leg and arm or two, and all that Uncle Jack and I could
say failed to shake that conviction. Dora even went so far as to
endeavour to coax me to decline the berth; and only desisted upon my
representation that, were I so foolish as to do so, I should inevitably be
snapped up by the press-gang. That, and the indisputable fact--which
they appeared to have forgotten--that there were at least a dozen men in
Weymouth alone who had gone through the whole of the last war
without receiving so much as a scratch, brought them to regard the
matter somewhat more resignedly; and at length, when they had all but
cried themselves blind, Uncle Jack's cheery and sanguine arguments
began to tell upon them so effectually, that they dried their tears and
announced their determination to hope for the best.
Strange to say, although I had been at home six days, I had hitherto
been so busy, running about with Dora and calling upon a rather
numerous circle of friends that, up to the