“At length,” he says, “my master gave me up, and I wandered up and down the town, almost parched with the insufferable blaze of the sun, till I resolved to lay me down and die, as I had neither money nor friend; accordingly, I fixed upon a dunghill in the east end of the town of Kingston, and being in such a weak condition, I pondered much upon Job’s case, and considered mine similar to that of his; however, I was fully resigned to death, nor had I the slightest expectation of relief from any quarter; yet the kind providence of God was over me, and raised me up a friend in an entire stranger. A London captain coming by was struck with the sordid object, came up to me, and, in a very compassionate manner, asked me if I was sensible of any friend upon the island from whom I could obtain relief; he likewise asked me to whom I belonged. I answered, to Captain Moses Lilly, and had been cast away in the late hurricane. This captain appeared to have some knowledge of my master, and, cursing him for a barbarous villain, told me he would compel him to take proper care of me. About a quarter of an hour after this, my master arrived, whom I had not seen before for six weeks, and took me to a public-house kept by, a Mrs. Hutchinson, and there ordered me to be taken proper care of. However, he soon quitted the island, and directed his course for England, leaving me behind at his sick quarters; and, if it should please God to permit my recovery, I was commanded to take my passage to England in the Montserrat, Captain David Jones, a very fatherly, tender-hearted man: this was the first alleviation of my misery. Now the captain sent his son on shore, in order to receive me on board. When I came alongside, Captain Jones, standing on the ship’s gunwale, addressed me after a very humane and compassionate manner, with expressions to the following effect: ‘Come, poor child, into the cabin, and you shall want nothing that the ship affords; go, and my son shall prepare for you, in the first place, a basin of good egg-flip, and anything else that maybe conducive to your relief.’ But I, being very bad with my fever and ague, could neither eat nor drink.”
A very pleasant captain, this seems, to have sailed with; but poor Silas had very little of his company. However, the good captain and his boatswain put their experiences together, and the poor boy was restored to health, and after some singular adventures he reached Bristol. Arriving there, however, Captain Lilly transferred him to a Captain Timothy Tucker, of whom Silas bears the pleasing testimony, “A greater villain, I firmly believe, never existed, although at home he assumed the character and temper of a saint.” The wretch actually stole a white woman from her own country to sell her to the black prince of Bonny, on the African coast. They had not been long at sea before this delightful person gave Silas a taste of his temper. Thinking the boy had taken too much bread from the cask, he went to the cabin and brought back with him his large horsewhip, “and exercised it,” says Silas, “about my body in so unmerciful a manner, that not only the clothes on my back were cut to pieces, but every sailor declared they could see my bones; and then he threw me all along the deck, and jumped many times upon the pit of my stomach, in order to endanger my life; and had not the people laid hold of my two legs, and thrown me under the windlass, after the manner they throw dead cats or dogs, he would have ended his despotic cruelty in murder.” This free and easy mode of recreation was much indulged in by seafaring officers in that time, but this Tucker appears to have been really what Silas calls him, “a blood-thirsty devil;” and stories of murder, and the incredible cruelties of the slave-trade lend their horrible fascination to the narrative of Silas Told. How would it be possible to work the commerce of the slave-trade without such characters as this Tucker, who presents much more the appearance of a lawless pirate than of the noble character we call a sailor?
Those readers who would like to follow poor Silas through the entire details of his miseries on ship-board, his hairbreadth escapes from peril and shipwreck, must read them in Silas’s own book, if they can find it; but we may attempt to give some little account of his wreck upon the American coast, in New England. Few stories can be more charming than the picture he gives of his wanderings with his companions after their escape from the wreck, not because he and they were destitute, and all but naked, but because of the pleasant glimpses we have of the simple, hospitable, home life in those beautiful old New England days—hospitality of the most romantic and free-handed description.
We will select two pictures, as illustrating something of the character of New England settlements in those very early days of their history. Silas and his companions were cast on shore, and had found refuge in a tavern seven miles from the beach; he had no clothing; but the landlord of the tavern gave him a pair of red breeches, the last he had after supplying the rest. Silas goes on: “Ebenezer Allen, Governor of the island, and who dwelt about six miles from the tavern, hearing of our distress, made all possible haste to relieve us; and when he arrived at the tavern, accompanied by his two eldest sons, he took Captain Seaborn, his black servant, Joseph and myself through partiality, and escorted us home to his own house. Between eleven and twelve at night we reached the Governor’s mansion, all of us ashamed to be seen; we would fain have hid ourselves in any dark hole or corner, as it was a truly magnificent building, with wings on each side thereof, but, to our astonishment, we were received into the great parlour, where were sitting by the fireside two fine, portly ladies, attending the spit, which was burdened with a very heavy quarter of house-lamb. Observing a large mahogany table to be spread with a fine damask cloth, and every knife, fork, and plate to be laid in a genteel mode, I was apprehensive that it was intended for the entertainment of some persons of note or distinction, or, at least, for a family supper. In a short time the joint was taken up, and laid on the table, yet nobody sat down to eat; and as we were almost hid in one corner of the room, the ladies turned round and said, ‘Poor men, why don’t you come to supper?’ I replied, ‘Madam, we had no idea it was prepared for us.’ The ladies then entreated us to eat without any fear of them, assuring us that it was prepared for none others; and none of us having eaten anything for near six and thirty hours before, we picked the bones of the whole quarter, to which we had plenty of rich old cider to drink: after supper we went to bed, and enjoyed so profound a sleep that the next morning it was difficult for the old gentleman to awake us. The following day I became the partaker of several second-hand garments, and, as I was happily possessed of a little learning, it caused me to be more abundantly caressed by the whole family, and therefore I fared sumptuously every day.
“This unexpected change of circumstances and diet I undoubtedly experienced in a very uncommon manner; but as I was strictly trained up a Churchman, I could not support the idea of a Dissenter, although, God knows, I had well-nigh by this time dissented from all that is truly good. This proved a bar to my promotion, and my strong propensity to sail for England to see my mother prevented my acceptance of the greatest offer I ever received in my life before; for when the day came that we were to quit the island, and to cross the sound over to a town called Sandwich, on the main continent, the young esquire took me apart from my associates, and earnestly entreated me to tarry with them, saying that if I would accede to their proposals nothing should be lacking to render my situation equivalent to the rest of the family. As there were very few white men on the island, I was fixed upon, if willing, to espouse one of the Governor’s daughters. I had been informed that the Governor was immensely rich, having on the island two thousand head of cattle and twenty thousand sheep, and every acre of land thereon belonging to himself. However, I could not be prevailed upon to accept the offer; therefore the Governor furnished us with forty shillings each, and gave us a pass over to the town of Sandwich.”
Such passages as this show the severe experiences through which Silas passed; they illustrate the education he was receiving for that life of singular earnestness and tenderness which was to close and crown his career; but we have made the extract here for the purpose of giving some idea of that cheerful, hospitable, home life of New England in those then almost wild regions which are now covered with the population of towns.
Here is another instance, which occurred at Hanover, in the United States, through which district Silas and his companions appear to have been wending their way, seeking a return to England. “One Sunday, as my companions and self were crossing the churchyard at the time of Divine service, a well-dressed gentleman came out of the church and said, ‘Gentlemen, we do not suffer any person in this country to travel on the Lord’s day.’ We gave him to understand that it was necessity which constrained us to walk that way, as we had all been shipwrecked on St. Martin’s [Martha’s (?)] Vineyard, and were journeying to Boston. The gentleman was still dissatisfied, but quitted our company and went into church. When we had gone a little farther, a large white house proved the object of our attention. The door being wide open, we reasonably imagined it was not in an unguarded state, without servants or others; but as we all went into the kitchen, nobody appeared to be within, nor was there an individual either above or below. However, I advised my companions to tarry in the house until some person or other should arrive. They did so, and in a short time afterwards two ladies, richly dressed, with a footman following them, came in through the kitchen; and, notwithstanding they turned round and saw us, who in so dirty and disagreeable a garb and appearance might have terrified them exceedingly, yet neither of them was observed to take any notice of us, nor did either of them ask us any questions touching the cause of so great an intrusion.
“About a quarter of an hour afterwards, a footman entered the kitchen with a cloth and a large two-quart silver tankard full of rich cider, also a loaf and cheese; but we, not knowing it was prepared for us, did not attempt to partake thereof. At length the ladies coming into the kitchen, and viewing us in our former position, desired to know the reason of our malady, seeing we were not refreshing ourselves; whereupon I urged the others to join with me in the acceptance of so hospitable a proposal. After this the ladies commenced a similar inquiry into our situation. I gave them as particular an account of every recent vicissitude that befell us as I was capable of, with a genuine, relation of our being shipwrecked, and the sole reasons of our travelling into that country; likewise begged that they would excuse our impertinence, as they were already informed of the cause; we were then emboldened to ask the ladies if they could furnish us with a lodging that evening. They replied it was uncertain whether our wishes could be accomplished there, but that if we proceeded somewhat farther we should doubtless be entertained and genteelly accommodated by their brother—a Quaker—whose house was not more than a distance of seven miles. We thanked the ladies, and set forward, and at about eight o’clock arrived at their brother’s house. Fatigued with our journey, we hastened into the parlour and delivered our message; whereupon a gentleman gave us to understand, by his free and liberal conduct, that he was the Quaker referred to by the aforesaid ladies, who, total strangers as we were, used us with a degree of hospitality impossible to be exceeded; indeed, I could venture to say that the accommodations we met with at the Quaker’s house, seeing they were imparted to us with such affectionate sympathy, greatly outweighed those we formerly experienced.
“After our banquet, the gentleman took us up into a fine spacious bed-chamber, with desirable bedding and very costly chintz curtains. We enjoyed a sound night’s rest, and arose between seven and eight the next morning, and were entertained with a good breakfast; returned many thanks for the unrestrained friendship and liberality, and departed therefrom, fully purposed to direct our course for Boston, which was not more than seven miles farther. Here all the land was strewed with plenty, the orchards were replete with apple-trees and pears; they had cider-presses in the centre of their orchards, and great quantities of fine cider, and any person might become a partaker thereof for the mere trouble of asking. We soon entered Boston, a commodious, beautiful city, with seventeen spired meetings, the dissenting religion being then established in that part of the world. I resided here for the space of four months, and lodged with Captain Seaborn at Deacon Townshend’s; deacon of the North Meeting, and by trade a blacksmith.” He gives a glowing and beautiful description of the high moral and religious character of Boston; here also he met with a stroke of good fortune in receiving some arrears of salvage for a vessel he had assisted in saving before his last wreck. Such are specimens of the interest and entertainment afforded in the earlier parts of this pleasant piece of autobiography. But we must hasten past his adventures, both in the island of Antigua and among the islands of the Mediterranean.
It is not wonderful that the great sufferings and toils of Silas should, even at a very early period of life, prostrate his health, and subject him to repeated vehement attacks of illness. He was but twenty-three when he married; still, however, a sailor, and destined yet for some wild experiences on the seas. Not long, however. A married life disposed him for a home life, and he accepted, while still a very young man, the position of a schoolmaster, beneath the patronage of a Lady Luther, in the county of Essex. He was not in this position very long. Silas, although an unconverted man, must have had strong religious feelings; and the clergyman of the parish, fond of smoking and drinking with him—and it may well be conceived what an entertaining companion Silas must have been in those days, with his budget of adventures—ridiculed him for his faith in the Scriptures and his belief in Bible theology. This so shocked Silas, that, making no special profession of religion, he yet separated himself from the clergyman’s company, and shortly after he left that neighbourhood, and again sought his fortune, but without any very cheerful prospects, in London.