Newman seemed to be in no way elated by his change of fortune, and showed himself free from a very common littleness of mind, for he spent the rest of the day among us forward, talking and chatting with all hands as freely as before; and while he was packing his chests, he managed to find some little present as a keepsake for each of us. Then he sat himself down on his chest, and gave us an earnest lecture in his old style on the advantages of education, and urged us all to continue our studies as before, and to show by our conduct to each other and to our officers the superiority of educated, intelligent men over ignorant and uncultivated ones.
When he went aft to wish the officers good-bye, he was treated very kindly and politely by them, all of them congratulating him on his good fortune; and as he descended the ship’s side for the last time, we gave him three as hearty cheers as ever rose from the deck of a whaler with a full hold; and little Jim, the smallest boy on board, blubbered as if his heart would break at the loss of one whom he had learned to look on as his best friend.
Before we sailed he had his schooner fitted out and manned with a strange crew of Malays, Chinese, Dutchmen, Frenchmen, and not a few representatives of other nations. He sent me a note insisting on my going to see him on board. His schooner was a fine little vessel, though built in the colony by Chinese. She measured some hundred and fifty tons, and, well handled, was fit to go anywhere; but this would be difficult work, I saw, with his mongrel crew. His cabin was fitted up in the complete way I should have expected him to have planned. It was, indeed, a very different sort of place from that in which he had long been accustomed to live—much more like, in the handsomeness of its fittings and its accommodation, to the luxurious cabin of the old Rainbow, which I used to see in my youth. He himself, too, was greatly changed in his appearance from the rough sailor he had long been. When dressed in plain clothes, he looked like a gentleman certainly, but not a polished one; but in a uniform which became him perfectly, he was a very good-looking officer. He was conscious of the improvement.
“I begin to think that there are yet higher steps for me to climb, Williams,” he observed, after he had cordially welcomed me and ordered refreshments to be brought in. “Who knows but that one day I may become an admiral, or a governor of one of these islands? I am becoming ambitious, I assure you. I thought it was not in me. I was till lately perfectly contented with my lot. I proposed spending my youth knocking about in these seas, and when I found old age creeping on me, settling down in one of the many thousand beautiful isles of the bright Pacific to spend the remainder of my days. Now that dream has passed away, and I feel an anxiety to climb. I am growing more and more ambitious; for I see that there are plenty of things in this world worth living for—plenty of golden fruit to be plucked, if a man has but the daring to scramble up the tree in spite of the thorns and knots in the way, and reach out to the branches.”
What did I reply to Newman? Did I offer him good advice? Alas, no! I thought not to say to him, Do thy duty in that station of life to which it has pleased God to call thee, regardless of this world’s tinsel prizes. Look steadily forward to another and a better world for thy reward. This he did not. This world, and this alone, entirely occupied his attention. He only thought of the gratification of the moment. Blindly and obstinately he shut out from his contemplations all thoughts of his eternal interests.
Newman’s man-of-war schooner and the stout old whaler the Drake left Batavia Roads the same day. We were bound for the ground off Navigator’s and some of the neighbouring groups of islands. We were fortunate enough to kill a couple of whales on our passage, and within two years after leaving England had nearly filled up all our casks. I began to consider whether I should remain in the ship, or, supposing Captain Carr would be willing to give me my discharge, whether I should join another ship lately come out, and thus, by saving the long voyage home and back, more speedily accomplish what was now the aim of my existence—to make a sum sufficient to enable me to remain at home for the rest of my days. I was now advancing in life. I had seen a great deal of hard service, and I began to long for rest. Such is the desire implanted in the bosom of all men—rest for the mind, rest for the body, rest for the soul. In youth, when health, and vigour, and animal spirits are at their highest, it is not developed, but when age comes on, and the body begins to feel the symptoms of decay, the mind grows weary and the spirits flag. Then rest is sought for—rest is looked for as the panacea for all evils. Yet who ever found rest in this world—perfect tranquillity and joy? No one. Still that such is the fact I had yet to learn. Yet, would a beneficent Creator have implanted the desire in the human heart without affording the means of gratifying it? Certain I am that He would not; but thus, in his infinite wisdom, he shows us the vanity of this world, and points to another and a better, where assuredly it may be found.
I took an opportunity of mentioning the subject of my thoughts to the captain, and he promised me that, if no other of the crew left when the ship was full, should we fall in with another wanting hands, he would comply with my wish, and, moreover, invest my share of the profits of the voyage as I might direct.
We had been for some time on the ground I have spoken of when we found ourselves in a perfect calm. By slow degrees the usual sea went down, and even the swell of the mighty ocean subsided. The crew sat lazily about the deck—some making air-nets for hats, others pointing ropes, working a mouse, or making a pudding, or a dolphin, or turning in a gasket; some leaned idly over the rail, and others slept still more idly below; while a few, not altogether unmindful of our old shipmate’s instructions, were bending over their books or using their pencils. Some also were carving with their knives strange devices on bones, or cutting out rings from the shell of the tortoise.
“Ah, I wish we had Ned Newman aboard here!” exclaimed one. “He would soon set us all alive.”
“Why can’t you set yourselves alive?” said Tom Knowles, looking up from his work on a rope he had in hand. “Idle chaps are always talking of getting some one else to do what they ought to do for themselves. Just try now. Let’s try a stave at all events. Come, I’ll strike up.”