“I’m a gentleman’s son,” I said; “I came off to sea unintentionally, and I want to go home again.”
He gave a loud “Whew!” as I said this.
“I can’t take you, my lad, without your captain’s leave,” he answered. “If he gives it, I shall be happy to do so.”
Captain Longfleet just then came out of the cabin.
“I don’t know how he came on board, but here he is and here he’ll remain,” he said, as the captain of the whaler spoke to him. “Go forward,” he said to me, “and think yourself fortunate to escape a flogging for your impudence.”
However, I persevered, and turning to Mr McTavish, asked him kindly to say a word for me. Captain Longfleet in reply told him that he had no business to interfere.
“I’ve lost one boy through you gentlemen, and I’m not going to lose another,” he answered.
In vain Mr McDonald and the other gentlemen spoke to him; he replied in his usual rough way.
“I’m sorry, my lad, that I can’t take you out of the ship without your captain’s permission,” said the whaling captain; “but if you’ll get a letter scribbled off, I’ll undertake to post it.”
I had neither paper, pens, nor ink, but Mr McTavish, hearing what was said, instantly brought me some, and I ran off into the berth to write it, hoping that I should be there undisturbed. I had great difficulty in penning the letter; and while I was kneeling down at the chest, old Growles came in and mocked at me, and another fellow asked me whether I was sending a love-letter to my dearie, and a third gave me a knock on the elbow, which spattered the ink over the paper and nearly upset the ink-bottle. Still I wrote on.