“I observe,” replied the captain, examining the papers, “they appear to be all correct. What is your name?”
“Newton Forster.”
“Then this is your signature?”
“It is, sir.”
Mr Pittson, desire the clerk to bring up a pen and ink.
The clerk made his appearance.—“Now, sign your name.”—Newton obeyed, and his signature was compared with that on the bill of lading, by the captain and first-lieutenant.
“Why did you not mention this before?” continued the captain.
“I attempted several times, but was not permitted to speak.” Newton then stated how he had been treated when impressed, and afterwards by the officer commanding the cutter.
“You certainly were exempted from the impress, if what you state is true; and I believe it so to be,” replied the captain.—“It is a hard case; but what can I do? Here we are at sea, and likely to remain on a cruise of several months. You cannot expect to eat the bread of idleness on board of a man-of-war. You will do your duty wherever you are stationed. There is no disgrace in serving his majesty, in any capacity. I tell you candidly, that although I would not have impressed you myself, I am very glad that I have you on board; I wish I had fifty more of the same sort, instead of the sweepings of the gaols, which I am obliged to mix up with prime seamen.”
“Perhaps, sir, you will have the kindness to send me back by the first homeward-bound vessel?”