“Yea, verily, friend. I served on board a man-of-war, and saw no little service,” answered Wenlock.
“Then how didst thou quit it? It is an honest calling, to my mind,” observed the captain.
“Why, by being blown up and left floating alone on the water. Verily I thought that was a sufficient sign to me no longer to engage in carnal warfare.”
“Oh, ay, I see. You have joined friend Penn. Well, well, each man to his taste. However, I guessed you had served at sea directly I saw you walking the deck.”
After this, Captain Dinan paid considerable attention to Wenlock,—much more so, indeed, than he did to Jonas Ford. Altogether there were about twenty passengers on board the Amity, with a crew of forty men. She also carried guns, to be able to defend herself against Algerine rovers, or West Indian pirates, of whom there were not a few roving those seas at that time. Prince Rupert and his brother had made piracy somewhat fashionable during the days of the Commonwealth, and there were not wanting a few lawless spirits to follow their example.
For some time the voyage continued prosperous, though, as the wind was light, the progress of the two emigrant ships was but slow. One day Wenlock had gone forward, when a seaman, whose furrowed countenance, thickly covered with scars and grey locks, showing the hard service he had gone through during a long life, addressed him.
“I know your name, Master Christison,” he said, “for I served under a man who I think was your father. It was many years ago; but yet I remember his looks and tone of voice, as you remind me of him. He saved my life, and did more than save my life, for he prevented me from becoming a hardened ruffian like many of my companions.” On this the old seaman ran on, and gave him many accounts of his father, to which Wenlock listened with deep interest. “Well, sir,” said the old man, “whenever you have time to listen to a yarn, if I happen to be below, just send for old Bill Rullock.” Wenlock promised the old man that he would not fail to come and talk to him, hoping indeed, as in duty bound, to put the truth before him.
The two ships were now about ten days’ sail from the American continent. Wenlock was walking the deck with Captain Dinan, most of the other passengers having gone to their cabins, for the sea was somewhat high, and the wind had increased. Dark clouds also were rising in the north-west, and driving rapidly across the sky.
“I do not altogether like the look of the weather,” observed the captain. “I see Captain Smith is shortening sail; we must do the same:” and he forthwith summoned the crew to perform that operation.
Scarcely were the men off the yards, when the wind, as if suddenly let loose, struck the ship with terrific fury, throwing her on her beam ends. Many