[CHAPTER XIV.]
THE PARTED SHIP.
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble."
THE City of Calcutta is situated on the Hoogly river, which is a branch of the Ganges, navigable to ships of the largest size. The Dolphin was a merchant ship, and was laden with ice and provisions, which the captain wished to exchange for leather, saltpetre, and other heavy commodities. The crew were required to remain and assist in unloading the vessel; but, after this had been accomplished, they were allowed to wander about the city, provided they returned to the vessel at the expiration of forty-eight hours.
Alfred was not slow to avail himself of this privilege. He visited the part of the city occupied by the English, and was delighted to see the elegant houses, many of them like palaces. These, he found, were not built in rows, or blocks, as in cities at home, but stood apart, at some distance from each other, on account of the intense heat. They were built with high, airy apartments and flat roofs, and surrounded with verandahs.
From this part of the city he went to what is called the Black town, occupied by the natives. This presented a striking contrast with the former. The houses, which are formed of mud, bamboo, or straw mats, stand upon narrow and crooked streets, interspersed with small gardens and tanks of water.
Here, I am sorry to say, he was led by his companions into all species of low dissipation. In this way, day after day was passed, until the captain announced the time of sailing. His conduct had been such since his arrival in port that no suspicion was entertained of his wish to desert. Now was his chance to do so, if ever. The next time he went out he put on a double suit of clothes, and carfully securing the small sum of money which remained from his wages, he took his final leave of the vessel. On several occasions he had purposely separated himself, for a short time, from his companions, that they might not suspect him of wishing to do so eventually. But now, as soon as an opportunity occurred, he ran away and secreted himself, trembling with fear, until he thought the vessel must have sailed. Here in a strange laud, unable to comprehend a word of the language, he suffered so much that he almost wished he had returned home with the ship. But when he came forth from his concealment, and ventured to ask if the vessel was still in port, he was too late. The Dolphin had sailed. Now he returned to the haunts of vice which had attracted him when he first came to the city, where, in pandering to his wicked passions, he soon spent every copper he had in the world, and when night came on he found himself homeless and penniless. Many times in the course of the next week did the words of Harrison, so long forgotten, come to his mind, "the wages of sin is death." Many times he thought he should starve, and probably would have done so had it not been for the kindness of sailors whom he accidentally met.
One day when he was so extremely reduced by want that he could scarcely stand, he tried to crawl along toward the port of Calcutta, and endeavor to find a vessel ready to sail for America. "I may as well die in one place as another," he said to himself, "and I shall certainly die if I remain here."
At length, when he had nearly reached the shipping, he was accosted in his native tongue by a youth near his own age.
"You look ill, my poor follow; what is the matter?"