“No, sir,” I replied. “I am not quite certain.”
“Was it Terence, do you think?” he asked.
“Yes, sir!” I exclaimed. “Terence it was—Terence McSwiney—that was his name. I remember it now, for he repeated it several times.”
“That is my name,” said the gentleman; “and I, Jack, am the very little lad to whom your kind friend gave your old clothes. I would much like to meet him again, to thank him, as I do you, for your share of the favour conferred on me. Of one thing you may be certain—I have not been idle. When not engaged in my master’s business, I was employed in study and in improving my own mind. I never lost an opportunity of gaining knowledge, and never willingly wasted a moment.”
Mr McSwiney told me a good deal more about himself, and I felt how very different a life I had led, and how little I had ever done to improve my mind or to gain knowledge. I even then thought that it was too late to begin, and so I went on in my idleness.
The day before we reached Carlisle Bay the captain sent for me, and told me that the passengers had been interested in my history, and that, as I had lost all my kit in the brig, they had made a collection to enable me to purchase a new one. This he presented to me in the shape of thirty dollars. I expressed myself, as I felt, very grateful for the kindness I had received.
Although Mr McSwiney had once been in the same rank of life to which I belonged, and in one respect even worse off, because I had a suit of clothes on my back when he had none, I did not, in consequence, address him as an equal. He seemed to appreciate my feeling, and I believe that I thereby secured his esteem. He would have taken me to the lodging he had engaged at Bridge Town, but I said, “No, sir, thank you; I will remain on board the ship till I get a berth in some other craft. I have no fancy for living ashore.” I went up to see him several times, and we parted, I believe, with mutual feelings of regard. He had more than repaid me for the benefit I had been formerly the means of doing him, and he as well as I soon found that our habits of thought were so different that we could not associate on really equal terms, however much we might wish the attempt to succeed.
Finding a brig, the Jane and Mary, short of hands, sailing for the port of Hull, I shipped on board her. I was not much better off in her though, than I had been in the Rainbow with Captain Grindall. The captain and mates did not proceed to such extremities as he and Mr Crosby did, but they were rough, ignorant, ill-tempered men, and treated the crew as brutes, looking upon them as mere machines, out of whom they were to get as much work as their strength would allow. When we reached Hull I was glad to leave the Jane and Mary; and without even going on shore for a day’s spree—as most of the other hands did, and accordingly fell in with press-gangs—I transferred myself to a barque trading to Archangel, on the north coast of Russia.
By the time I got back, I had had enough of a northern voyage, so for the first time went on shore at Hull. Sailors’ lodging-houses are generally dirty, foul traps, kept by wretches whose great aim is to fleece the guests of everything they may possess at least cost to themselves. I got into one of this class, for, of course, I did not know where to go. A shipmate had invited me to accompany him, saying he had been very well-treated—though I found afterwards he had been supplied with as much food and liquor as he wanted, and indulged in every vice, and then, when he hadn’t a farthing in his pocket, put on board a trader half drunk, and sent to sea. I found myself undergoing very shortly the same sort of treatment he had received; and when I refused to drink more, or yield to other temptations, such fierce, angry scowls were cast on me, that I was anxious to get away. They began, indeed, to quarrel with me; but seeing that had not much effect, they became very civil and polite. In a short time the man of the house—a sturdy ruffian, with a Jewish cast of countenance—went to the cupboard, and I saw him pouring out several tumblers of grog. I pretended not to be watching him, but went on talking to my companions as before. Directly afterwards his wife got up and placed a tumbler by the side of each of us, taking one—
“There are your Saturday’s night-caps, my lads,” said she, sitting down opposite to us. “Let us drink to sweethearts and wives, and lovers and friends; a bloody war, and plenty of prize-money!” And with a leer out of her evil eye, she gulped down half the contents of the tumbler between her thick lips.