Old Jack

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Oh, nonsense!” he answered; “a man has only quietly to observe what others do, and not to attempt to show himself off, or to broach any subject, and he will generally pass muster as a well-behaved person. However, as Mr Von Kniper did not ask you to come, of course you cannot go. Well, I dare say that I shall have enough to make you laugh when I come back.”

I am not at all certain that Newman was right in his last observation. Practice and experience are absolutely necessary to fit a person for any station of life; and no wise man will ever wish to step into one for which he is not fitted by education or habit, or to associate with those with whom he has no ideas or associations in common. The great mistake numbers of well-intentioned people make, is the wish to rise in the world themselves, or that their children may rise in it to a superior station to that in which they were themselves born. They forget that the reason why they were sent into the world was to prepare them for another and a better existence; that this world is no abiding-place; and that, therefore, it is worse than folly to take toil and trouble to climb up a few steps in the ladder which will enable us to look down on our fellow-worms still crawling below us. There is one most important thing parents should teach their children—one most important thing children should desire—“To do their duty in that station of life in which it has pleased God to call them.” Their sole motive should be love to their Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, who thus commanded them to act. At the same time, they may be well assured that if they do their duty with all their heart—if they do diligently whatever their hand finds to do—they will not fail to be placed in those posts of honour and responsibility which even worldly men are always anxious to get such persons to fill. We see how Joseph was raised to honour in Egypt, how Daniel was respected at the court of Babylon. The Bible is full of such examples, and those examples were given for our instruction. Those men rose, not because they wished to rise, but because they strove to do their duty—to worship the Lord their God with singleness of heart.

Poor Newman! I saw that under his pretended indifference there was no little satisfaction at the thought of occupying, even for a day, a position in which he probably had once been accustomed to shine. My only fear was, that when he got back to the forepeak, and our rough manners and rougher conversation, he would remark the contrast, and become discontented with the lot he had chosen.

The next day he and the captain went on shore to the dinner-party. As he stepped into the boat, and took his seat in the stern-sheets, I could not help remarking how completely the gentleman he looked. I must own that I waited with no little anxiety for his return, to hear what had occurred. I never before had been so intimate with any man as with Newman. I told him without reserve all that was in my heart, and he spoke freely to me, at the same time that he never once, even in the most remote manner, alluded to his past history. It was merely casually, when speaking of Mynheer Von Kniper, that he mentioned having been educated in Germany, or probably he would never even have told me that. On religious subjects, also, he never uttered an opinion; but from his very silence I had reason to believe that he entertained notions which were very far removed from the truth. Among all his books he had no Bible, and no works bearing on religion. He appeared to have studiously kept all such out of his library, as he did religion itself out of his thoughts. If I ever alluded to it, even in the remotest degree, he instantly turned the conversation; and whenever it was mentioned in the berth, which was, indeed, very seldom, his countenance assumed a look of cold, callous indifference, or a marked expression of scorn, which indicated too plainly what were his real opinions on the subject.

With regard to myself, I had always been a believer, though a sadly cold and careless one, except when roused by some particular occurrences, as I have mentioned in the course of my history. I still at this time continued much in the same dangerous state, but in other respects a great change had occurred. Deeply, indeed, was I indebted to Newman for it. He had awakened my mind out of its long sleep, and if I could not call myself an educated man, I at least had learned to prize the advantages of education, and was endeavouring to improve myself, and was greedy to gain knowledge wherever I could obtain it. No person could have devoted himself more earnestly to my instruction than did my friend. He seemed never to weary in helping me over difficulties; and if I took a pleasure in learning, he certainly took a still greater in teaching me. Without his aid I could not have made a tenth part of the progress I had done. I now read fluently, and even wrote tolerably. I had read through and mastered even more than the outlines of ancient and modern history, and with several periods I was tolerably conversant. I knew something of the past and present state of every country in the world, though I could not boast of knowing much about the mere names of the chief towns and rivers. I had read the lives of several men who had stood forward prominently in the world, and I had mastered some of the important facts of natural science. I need not further describe the amount of my knowledge. I could not have attained half I have mentioned had I not read on steadily, and carefully eschewed anything like desultory reading—that is to say, as far as the limited library to which I had access would allow. I did not always read the books I might have desired, but I diligently read the best I could obtain. If I, therefore, did so much in a short time with indifferent means, how much might be done with all the advantages possessed by those on shore!

Late in the evening Newman came back. The first thing he did on getting on board was to go below and shift his clothes. He then sat himself down on the windlass, with his arms folded across his bosom; and when I went up to him, he burst into aloud fit of laughter.

“I thought it would be so!” he exclaimed, when he recovered himself. “Mynheer Von Kniper was very polite, and so was his wife; and they introduced me to all their company. I believe the governor-general was there, or some great person. They paid me much more attention than they did the captain, who, if he had not been a right honest, good-natured fellow, might have been not a little jealous. First one person talked to me in one language, then another would come up with a different tongue in his mouth, and I had to show off in great style. Then I was asked to exhibit my drawings, and they were handed about and held up to the light, and admired by all hands as wonderful productions of art. In fact, I saw clearly I was the lion of the evening. I thought that sort of thing was only done in civilised, polite England; but I suppose lion hunters and lion exhibiters are to be found in all parts of the world. To do Mynheer Von Kniper justice, I must say that he had no hand in the work. During dinner nothing could be pleasanter or kinder than his conversation and manner; and certainly I had reason to believe that he wished me well. At length people got weary of hearing me roar, and all had had a look at the wonderful common sailor, and so the skipper seemed to think that it was time to be off; but our host would not allow us, and insisted that after the rest of the guests were gone, we should stop to have some supper. During the meal, Mynheer Von Kniper introduced the subject of drawing, and telling me that he longed to have all the scenes of whale catching and killing fully illustrated, asked if I would undertake to do a set of drawings for him on that subject. I could not refuse to do as he wished, after all the civilities he had shown me; so I told him that I should be very happy; but he then gently hinted that he wished me to undertake the task as a regular commission, and he begged that I would put what price I thought fit on my productions. I have made up my mind, at all events, to do them. I think every man has a perfect right to make a profit of his talents, especially if he requires money. I do not. I have now got a profession—a right noble one too! I am now a more independent man than had I been toiling on for years at a desk, or dancing attendance in some great man’s ante-chamber for some of the patronage he may have to bestow. You think that I have benefited you by teaching you to read and write. Now, in reality, I have merely given you the implements of a trade—the means of gaining knowledge. You have given me knowledge—you have taught me a trade itself. Therefore, Williams, you see that I am still your debtor.”

For some time he talked on in this strain. I clearly saw that he was pleased with the attention shown him, in spite of his belief to the contrary. I would not for one moment exhibit Newman as an example, or hold him up as a fine character. He had very great faults and many weaknesses. I do not know that he had strength of character. He had an independent spirit in some respects, a clear perception, and considerable talent. His greatly superior education raised him much above the associates among whom he had thrown himself.

Soon after this the ship was ready for sea, and as we had not above a couple of hundred barrels to fill, we hoped soon to be on our homeward voyage. It was the winter season, and we were bound for the coast of Japan. We were, however, several months before we got a full ship; and then, with joyful hearts to most on board, we once more made sail for Old England.

During all the time, Newman was busily employed in finishing up the sketches of whale catching, and very beautiful productions they were. Nothing could be more correct or truth-like. Very different they were, indeed, from the drawings I have since often seen, where the whale has had its flukes put on the wrong way, and boats are represented as being tossed high up in the air, some thirty feet, at least, and broken in two, while the crews are seen tumbling down like snowflakes, with arms and legs sprawling out right over the whale. I have seen many a boat smashed, but never one sent up in that fashion into the air. Newman was anxious to send these sketches to Mynheer Von Kniper; but as no opportunity occurred, he was afraid that he would be compelled to wait till another voyage to present them himself. Captain Carr promised, as soon as the ship could be refitted, to return on another voyage to those seas.