When from the grassy sod
The living soul shall start to life sublime,
Wilt thou not render back thy spoils, insatiate Time?
M. G.
REMINISCENCES OF A DARTMOOR PRISONER.
NUMBER TWO.
It was my intention in closing my last number to have opened the next in the prison, and then to proceed with the narrative; but upon reflection, I thought it might be more acceptable to the reader if I were to relate all that took place; giving as it were a moving panorama of the events as they occurred: but if he should be in greater haste to get to the prison than I was, he has only to skip a few lines, to arrive there. But to proceed. Our vessel, with several others, anchored at Gravesend, where the crews received their pay. The amount coming to me, although small, was very acceptable. I now received from the captain what he ought to have given me on my joining his ship. I had stipulated with him, on signing his papers, that he should give me a written pledge, exonerating me from fighting against my country, should we fall in with any of our vessels. This he withheld until the end of the voyage; and then, when it could be of no possible use, he most magnanimously gave it to me. What the result would have been had we fallen in with any of our cruisers, is beyond conjecture.
All was now bustle and confusion on board. The ship was like a floating Babel. The decks were crowded with hucksters, boatmen, landlords, and women of undoubted character; all upon one errand, and actuated by one motive; united in purpose though divided by interest, they were bent upon fleecing poor Jack of his hard-earned money. No doubt they succeeded, for Jack is at best but a poor financier.
Amid the confusion, I managed to slip unobserved on board a Gravesend boat which was crowded with passengers, and in a few minutes was flying before a smart breeze, on my way to London. It was past sun-down, and the shades of evening were fast veiling surrounding objects as we approached this vast and mighty city, the heart’s-core as it were of the world. I cannot express my feelings, nor convey by words the ideas that swelled my mind until the sensation became intensely exciting, as the dusky spires of the Tower, St. Paul’s, etc., peered above the smoky atmosphere. All that I had read from early childhood of London, its bridges, towers and domes, came rushing and crowding upon my memory. It was lamp-light when we landed at Wapping, (gas was then unknown,) and I felt the full force of my lonely condition. Young and inexperienced; surrounded by vast multitudes, yet known to none; I was completely bewildered.