David was about to speak up, when I shook my head and warned him to be silent. I briefly replied, "Good-day, sir," David doing the same, and we proceeded on our journey.
The man called after us two or three times. In fact, he got down from his wagon, throwing the reins into the hands of the boy that accompanied him. We quickened our pace, and I suppose he realized that he would have a very difficult task to coerce two able-bodied youths of seventeen into entering his wagon against their wills. At all events, he did not follow us, and, looking over my shoulder, I saw him remount his wagon-seat and proceed on his way.
Perhaps I ought to explain that it was the custom of that time to apprentice, or bind out, boys to learn trades. According to law and practice, a boy was bound to serve his master for seven years, in return for learning the trade and being fed and clothed during the time of his apprenticeship. Sometimes the apprentice received wages for his services during the last year, or the last two or three years, of his time; and sometimes a premium was paid by the apprentice or on his behalf. A good deal depended on the character of the trade in which he was engaged, and also upon the excess or scarcity of boys wishing to learn trades.
The man who stopped us was fairly justified in suspecting that we were runaway apprentices, as it was in no ways unusual for boys who had been bound out and thought that they were badly treated, to run away from their masters. Usually they went in pairs, and they also directed their steps to the nearest important seaport, for the double reason that they could more easily avoid recapture, and at the same time find employment of some sort. The great majority of the boys of that time had, like David and myself, a longing for the sea, and it was quite natural for any one meeting us on the road to conclude that we were what the man supposed us to be when he endeavored to stop us.
We kept steadily on our way and met with no further trouble. When we judged, by the position of the sun and also by the distance we had traveled that it was past the hour of noon, we sat down by the bank of a brook at the roadside, opened our packs, and took out our dinner. We had ravenous appetites from our long walk, and the cold meat and bread which had been prepared for us was quickly eaten. We washed it down with water from the brook, and after resting for perhaps half an hour, went on.
About sunset we reached a good-looking house on the right-hand side of the road, and perhaps a hundred yards away from it. Somewhat timidly we approached, going around to the side door, and not venturing to make our call at the front one. A stern-looking man came out, and before we spoke he eyed us with apparent suspicion. Evidently he was like the man on the road and took us for runaway apprentices; at all events his manner had very little welcome in it and I thought it best to explain at once who we were.
"We are the sons of Samuel Crane and William Taylor of Pembroke," I said. "We are on our way to Boston, with our fathers' consent, to go to sea, and we ask the privilege of sleeping in your barn to-night if you have no objection. If you want us to do any work to pay for our lodging, we are ready to do it, or we will pay in money if you insist."
The idea of paying for sleeping in a barn seemed to hit him on the funny side, as the sternness of his features relaxed, and a smile played about them. In reply to my statement and request he said,—
"Looks to me very much as though you youngsters were running away from your masters. Are you telling me the truth?"