One of the shops was close to the end of Church street, and while his uncle was having some goods wrapped up and made otherwise ready for transportation by horseback, the youth slipped down to the immense wharves fronting Chesapeake Bay, to take a look at the stately ships, with their towering masts and square yards, and the little boats of all descriptions. Here the smell of tar and salt air was heavy, and here large gangs of black and white laborers were toiling at their tasks of loading and unloading tobacco, hemp, lumber, rum, molasses, hardware, and a hundred and one other things.
“Looking for a chance to ship, lad?” asked one of the sailors at hand. “If ye are there’s nary better craft nor the Queen Mary lying yonder, nor better master than Cap’n Ringdale who commands her.”
“Thank you, but I don’t care to be a sailor,” answered Dave. “I have come in to do some trading, that’s all.”
“But you’d better ship,” went on the tar, and caught Dave by the arm.
“No.”
“Come and see our cap’n—he’ll treat ye well,” urged the sailor, trying his best to became friendly. The ship was short of hands and Captain Ringdale had promised his men ten shillings for each new man brought in.
“I don’t want to go—and I want you to let go of me!” cried Dave, and at once grew suspicious, for he had heard of how men had been impressed into service against their will.
“Looking for a chance to ship, lad?”—Page [86].
“Don’t grow alarmed, lad, I won’t hurt ye. Come, you’ll like the cap’n, I know. Perhaps you never had the chance to look over a ship. It’s a sight worth seeing, and will cost you nothing.”