It was a glorious spring day, and the novelty of my first long train journey made me forget all my troubles. Moreover, I felt full of importance to think that I was a passenger by that great train. Every inch of that journey was full of interest to me. I had a seat by the window, and my eyes fairly ached with the intensity of my gaze out over the beautiful country of which, until then, I had seen practically nothing. I remember that I spoke to no one, and no one spoke to me, though several of my fellow-passengers must have wondered who or what was the ill-clad urchin who sat so quietly and gazed so intently at the flying landscape.
I was quite sorry when the train arrived at Euston, and I had to march out into the mean net-work of streets which surround the badly situated station, for now I began to wonder what I should do in the vast city which was my birth-place, but in which I had no friends or abiding-corner. It was all so familiar, and yet so inhospitable. Had I only known where to look, there were many places where I could have found shelter and help, but for lack of that useful knowledge, how many wanderers like myself have died?
One thing I felt certain of, which was that I could not now take my place among the ranks of my former companions, I could not compete with them for sale of papers, or the numerous odd jobs that boys can do. For one thing I had never been much of a pusher—I was always more ready to stand aside than to press forward in the race for a job, though willing enough to take one if I got the chance—and for another, I had lost the sense of familiarity with those conditions of life ashore, while the new experience I had gained was here of no use to me.
Therefore I made no effort in this direction, but after wandering aimlessly about until I was dog tired, I went down the West India Dock Road until I came to a house with the legend painted up—"Seamen's Boarding House," and knocked at its door with my heart thumping furiously. A terrible looking man with a great grizzled beard and a voice like a foghorn came to the door and looked at me in silence. I swallowed nothing once or twice, then taking out my discharge from my last ship, which I had treasured as if it were a bank-note for a hundred pounds, I said, "Please, Sir, may I stay here. I want a ship and I've got a good discharge. I'll pay you out of my advance if you'll get me a ship." He growled.
"Wher's yer dunnage (clothes)?" I answered faintly, "I've got none, I was shipwrecked." He hesitated for a moment, then rumbled, "come inside," and with my heart leaping, I went into a stuffy front parlour, where sat two or three men, obviously ill at ease, and a fat pale faced woman who was looking fixedly in the fire. Taking me by the shoulder, the boarding-master led me up to the woman saying—
"Here, mother, here's an able seaman wants to stop here. He's got no clothes and no money, but he says he'll pay me out of his advance note."
Then I saw with a wave of pity that she was blind. She turned at the voice and put out both hands, touching me and feeling me from my forehead down to my waist.
"Why, Bill," she cried, "its only a child, a poor little boy," and with a motherly movement she drew me to her, and felt me all over again. Then she asked me many questions, all of which I answered with absolute truth, for there could be no reason why I should not. And at the conclusion of her examination I was entered on the books of the house as a boarder, while the master went growling about saying that at this rate he would soon be in the workhouse. But the old lady kept me by her side and whispered that it was only Mr Jones's fun, he didn't mean anything by it, and that he would surely do his best to get me a ship soon.
This was true, for though he was always grumpy, and given to regaling his boarders at meal times with lugubrious forebodings of his speedy entrance to Poplar Workhouse, with victuals at the price they were and so many hungry outward-bounders to feed, I know he did his best for me; did it so well, that in five days from entering his house I obtained a ship as boy with a wage of twenty-five shillings per month, to my intense surprise. I received, like the rest of the crew, a note for a month's advance, which I handed over to him at once. Out of this he gave me a small supply of most necessary clothes bought second hand, so that he must have dealt with me not merely honestly but in a spirit of generosity.
And now I come to the close of my shore apprenticeship, as it may be termed, for although I had a very severe time upon my return to Liverpool from that voyage (again shipwrecked), I never again but once had a job ashore until I left the sea as a profession finally. That time I spent upon a farm in New Zealand, and although it certainly had its comic side, I was such an utterly complete failure at it that I blush now when I think of the figure I made. Fortunately it did not last long, about two months, and in spite of my colossal ineptitude I really think I earned all that I received, which was my keep and a pair of boots.