“A Rolling Stone, are you?” said the captain. “Well, what have you rolled here for?”
“Because I wanted to go somewhere,” I answered.
He then asked me if I had ever been at sea; and, on learning the name of the ship I had deserted, he said that she had sailed the week before, or he would have sent me back to her.
He concluded his examination, by giving the steward orders to look after me—telling him that I could assist in the slop work to be done in the cabin.
To this arrangement I decidedly objected, declaring that I was a sailor, and would not be made a cuddy servant!
I have every reason to believe, that this declaration on my part elevated me several degrees in the captain’s good opinion.
He replied by expressing a hope, that I would not aspire to the command of the ship; and if not, he would see what could be done for me.
The vessel was bound for Liverpool with cotton; and was owned by the captain himself, whose name was Hyland.
I was never better treated in my life, than on board that ship.
I was not assigned to any particular occupation, or watch; but no advantage was taken of this circumstance, on the captain’s part, to make me do too much, or by me to do too little.