I thought this would be a good opportunity of telling him how fond I was of the sea, and that I hoped he would let me go on board one of his ships, when just at that moment Aunt Deb entered. She began scolding me for having absented myself so long from her, but Mr Butterfield interfered.
“The lad naturally wishes to see a new place, where he may spend some time perhaps. So don’t be too hard on him, Cousin Deborah.”
We soon went down to dinner, and Aunt Deb said no more. I ate as many of the good things as I could, but after so large a luncheon I had less room than usual. Mr Butterfield placed my moderation to the score of my modesty.
“Come, come, lad, eat away,” he said. “These things were given to us for our benefit, and can’t fail to do us good.”
I at last had to give in, letting Martha take away my plate with a large portion of its contents untasted. I should have liked to have remained to talk to Mr Butterfield when Aunt Deb retired, but she insisted on my coming up, afraid that the old gentleman in his hospitality would be giving me more wine than would be good for me. I had thus no opportunity of talking to him alone. The following morning I begged leave to go out again. Mr Butterfield willingly consented, though Aunt Deb observed that I should be better employed at home summing and writing.
“He’ll have enough of that by-and-by. In the meantime he can learn his way about the city,” said the old gentleman.
I thanked him very much, and he went away to his office.
Going into my room, I bethought me that I would take my cutter down to the river and give her a sail. It took me some time, however, to step the mast and set up the rigging. As soon as this was done, not thinking it necessary to see Aunt Deb first, I started off, carrying the little vessel under my arm. The boys in the streets, I thought, admired her exceedingly. It made me feel that I was a nautical character amid the seafaring population. Though I didn’t exactly recollect the way, after making various turnings, I found myself at the quay where the “Emu” lay. “Now,” I thought to myself, “I’ll go on board, and if I can’t see the captain, I’ll have a talk with the crew. They’ll perceive by my cutter that I’m not a greenhorn, and I can offer to show them what I know by explaining how I sail her.” With more confidence than I had felt on the previous day, I walked up the plank. I could nowhere see the captain, nor any other officer, and therefore turned towards the spot where the men were at work taking in the cargo.
“Well, boy, what do you want?” inquired a rough, surly-looking old seaman, who was handling a large case?
“I have come to see the ship; and as I like her, I think of getting the captain to take me as an officer,” I answered, with as much confidence as I could assume.