Author. “Where do you hail from to day, Peter?”
Peter. “From the street, where I’ve found some folks that makes me feel bad.”
A. “What now, Peter?”
P. “Why, there’s some folks that feels envious and flings this in my face—’Oh! you’ve got to be a mighty big nigger lately, han’t ye? and you’re agoin’ to have your life wrote.’ And this comes principally from people of my own colour, only now and then a white person flings in somethin’ to make it go glib; but the white folk round here generally treat me very kindly.”
A. “Well, don’t revenge yourself, Peter; bear it like a man and a christian. Now let us launch out on the deep.”
P. Well, we’ll weigh anchor,—but it won’t do for me to tell every thing that happened to me in my sea v’iges, for ‘twould fill fifty books; and so I’ll only tell some things that always seemed to please folks more’n the rest:
I followed the North River all that summer I run away, and in the fall of that year Captain John Truesdell sold his sloop and engaged to go out to sea as master of a large vessel for a company of New York merchants.
“So, on the 22d of October, 1806, at nine o’clock we weighed anchor for St. Bartholomews, and bore away for the Narrows. Arter we’d got out some ways, I turned back to take one look at my old native land, and I felt kind’a streaked, and sorry and grieved, and you may say I felt kind’a rejoiced tu, for if I was a goin’ away from home and country, out on the wide waters, I’d got my liberty, and was every day gettin’ it stronger.
“We had a fine ship; she was one of the largest vessels in port, and she carried twenty guns, for she was rigged to sail for any port, and fight our own way. We had thirty-seven able-bodied men besides officers; and in all, with some officers, about fifty men aboard. When we’d been out nearly two days, towards night, we looked off ashore, and the land looked bluer and bluer, till all on it disappeared, and nothin’ could be seen but a wide waste of waters, blue as any thing, and the sun set jist as though it fell into a bed of gold; and when the moon riz she looked jist as though she come up out of the ocean; and the next mornin’, when the mornin’ star rose, he looked like a red hot cinder out of a furnace. Well, we all looked till we got out of sight of land, and then some went to cryin’ and I felt rather ticklish; but most on us went to findin’ out some amusements. The sails was all filled handsome, and she bounded over the waters jist like a bird. Some on us went to playin’ cards, some dice, and some a tellin’ stories, and he that told the fattest story was the best feller.
“Next day ’bout nine in the mornin’, we spied a French frigate on our larboard bow, bearin’ right down upon us, and first she hailed, “ship ahoy!” Captain answered, and the frigate’s captain says, “what ship?” “Sally Ann, from New York.” The Frenchman hollered, “drop your peak and come under our lee.” And he did, and he come on board our ship with twelve men, and captain took ’em down into the cabin, and hollers for me, and says, ‘bring twelve bottles of madeira;” and so I did, and stepped back and listened, and there they talked and jabbered, and I couldn’t understand ’em any more’n a parcel of skunk blackbirds; but our captain could talk some French. Well, they stayed aboard I guess, two hours, and examined the ship all through, and then they left, and boarded their ship, and they fired us two guns, and we answered ’em with two stout ones, and then we bore off under a stiff breeze. This is what sailors calls shakin’ hands, and wishin’ good luck, this firin’ salutes.