CHAPTER V.
He writes to his Father—Arrives at Amsterdam—His Father's Answer—The Curse—On the Quay—Meets a Fellow Countryman—Is Kidnapped and Robbed—Sent to Sea—Endures many Hardships.
"Thorns and snares are in the way of the froward: he that doth keep his soul shall be far from them."—PROV. xxii. 5.
"Before quitting Giessen I had written to my father to tell him of my resolution, and I had also the effrontery to ask him to send me some money. He was, you may be sure, deeply grieved on receiving such a letter, but when I reached Amsterdam I found an answer from him, in which he enclosed £20. The letter contained the most earnest and affectionate exhortations to me to return and repent, assuring me of his willingness to forgive me if I did so; if, however, in spite of all he could say, I should refuse and still persist in my mad and wicked course, he added, 'My curse shall be upon you, and follow you always.' I was much agitated by these terrible words, and I seriously thought when I read them that I dared not go on; but whether it was that I was ashamed to go back, or from my desire to travel about the world, or the idea that such a threat uttered, I was sure, in a moment of anger, would never be fulfilled, I hardened my heart against my better feelings, and obstinately persisted in the course I had chosen. Alas, how soon was I to know, by bitter experience, the terrible effects of a father's curse!
"However, I strove to dismiss all such thoughts from my mind, and went down to the quay with all my money, nearly £30, in my pocket, to look out for a ship about to sail either for North America or the Indies. I was not very particular which, my great desire being to get to sea as soon as possible, and then, I thought, my happiness will begin. Having heard that there was a fine vessel then loading for Surinam, I took a boat and went on board to see the captain, but I soon found my means were insufficient for such a long voyage, and returned from the ship quite low-spirited. This may seem strange, but it is a fact that whenever we are doing wrong wilfully, and pursuing any course which our conscience cannot approve, the slightest repulse is sufficient to cause us great uneasiness, and any little hindrance we may meet with, which at another time we should think nothing of, is then enough to make us quite unhappy. This was the case with me, and I felt very miserable as I was walking up and down the quay. The course I had chosen was one of disobedience and sin, and I was realising the truth of the words, 'There is no peace to the wicked.'
"I had been walking up and down for nearly a quarter of an hour in this way, when on raising my eyes I noticed a well-dressed young man apparently waiting to speak to me. When I got near him he bowed politely, and addressed me in German, 'Excuse me, sir, but you seem to be a stranger in this town, and, if I am not mistaken, a German. I am also quite a stranger here, and I am rejoiced to meet with a fellow-countryman.' I was very glad to hear this, and assured him of the pleasure I felt at meeting him, and thus we soon got into conversation together.
"When he heard that I intended to go abroad, and thought of going to North America, he seemed agreeably surprised, and told me that he had just engaged a passage to New York in a vessel which was to sail the next day, and added, 'If you like, I can take you to the captain's house, for I think he has room for another passenger, and on our way we can see the vessel, which is not far from here.' I thanked him for his kind offer, and we walked arm in arm down the quay, where he soon showed me the ship riding at anchor. She was a fine vessel, newly painted, and looking very trim and neat. It seemed a very long way to the captain's house, and I am sure we must have gone more than a mile together before we got there. My new friend seemed to know the house well, and led me down several passages, to a little room at the back of the premises, where he left me, telling me he would go and call the captain. As he went out, I heard a slight grating noise, as though he had locked the door after him; and, though I quite laughed at the idea, yet after waiting impatiently for nearly half-an-hour for the captain to come, I thought I would just look up and down the passage and see if I could find any one who would tell me where he was.
"On reaching the door, you may imagine my consternation at finding it was indeed locked. Horror seized me, for I found I was like a mouse caught in a trap. I flew to the window and found it was securely nailed down, and then saw, what I had not noticed before, that it was guarded outside by stout iron bars. I now began to realise the situation I was in, and concluded that I was the victim of one of those crimps, or kidnappers, who in those times infested seaport towns, and, as I had read, used all manner of artifices to decoy unwary travellers into their dens in order to rob them, and then sell them into the military service of some distant colony. This thought almost drove me frantic. I tore my hair and wrung my hands, and stamped on the floor with my feet. I screamed and called for help, but all in vain: my prison was too well chosen for my cries to reach any but the persons of the house, and after an hour spent in vain endeavours to escape, I sank exhausted into a chair, and sullenly awaited my fate.
"After waiting about two hours (as it seemed to me) in this terrible state of rage, grief, and despair, I heard the door unlocked and prepared myself to make one desperate effort for my liberty. The door was thrown open, and I felt my last chance of escape was gone, when I saw two men enter with pistols, loaded and cocked, in their hands. They soon compelled me, by threats of instant death if I resisted, to hand over all my money to them, and then I was obliged to change my clothes for a very dirty sailor's dress which one of them had brought with him. They were deaf to all my entreaties for pity, and though I wept and besought them to let me go, even if they took all I had from me, and promised them a liberal reward, it was all in vain; they took no notice whatever of my complaints, and merely putting down some bread and cheese, and a mug of water on the table, they gathered up all my clothes, and left me to my own reflections.
"When night came on, I was again aroused and taken out of the house by a back-door and conveyed on board a ship, where I found several other young men, who, I concluded from their melancholy and dejected air, were in a similar predicament to myself. Our captors were too numerous and well-armed for resistance to be of any avail, and as I could see that anything of the kind must only end in making our situation still worse than it was, I made up my mind to suffer all my misery as patiently as I could.