They both shook hands warmly and kindly with Lyal, and promised to send him a spare chest, with such things as could be collected; for of course he had but a scanty outfit. As they were going, I put out my hand also.
“You’ll let me shake hands, sir, won’t you?” said I. “There’s many a kind act you’ve done me, Captain Gale, from the time I was a little helpless lad till now; and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and may Heaven bless you, sir.”
“Why, what’s all this about?” exclaimed my kind captain, “You have your papers, Jack, and you cannot, as an apprentice, be touched.”
“But the papers won’t protect me, sir; I am no longer an apprentice,” I answered. “Not long ago, I got a mate to look over them for me, and I was, I find, out of my apprenticeship a month ago.”
“There is no use giving in without an attempt to escape; I’ll see what can be done,” he answered. “May I not take this man with me, sir?” he asked, turning to Captain Hudson, who stood on the quarter-deck, and of course had not heard this part of our conversation.
“Send his papers and his chest likewise,” was the only answer the captain of the Syren deigned to give.
Before the brig’s boat shoved off, I went over the side, and sent many a message to Peter Poplar and the rest of my shipmates. I regretted leaving the brig, but I was more sorry at the thought of parting from Peter than for any other reason.
As I looked at the Dolphin with the eye of that affection which a seaman soon gains for a vessel in which he is tolerably happy, I observed that the man-of-war’s boat was already alongside. In a short time she shoved off, and pulled back to the corvette. There were several chests, and five people besides her crew in her. I rubbed my eyes. Could I believe them? Among the people sat Peter Poplar! He sprung up the side, and was soon engaged in shaking hands with several of the Syren’s crew.
“What! are you pressed, Peter?” said I to him; and in my heart I could not be very sorry to have him with me.
“Not exactly that either,” he answered. “You see, Jack, I found that you were pressed, or would be to a certainty, and I did not like to have one whom I had nursed up almost from a baby on the salt waters, so to speak, altogether out of my sight, though you are big enough now to take care of yourself; so, says I to myself, Well, if they take me, I’ll go with a free will—I don’t mind. However, when the lieutenant picked out the men he would like to have, and who have no protection, he passed me over, thinking that, on account of my age, he could not touch me. But among the men he chose was poor Bill Jackson, who has a wife and small family at Halifax, and who only came the voyage from his love for Captain Stenning, and was going to give up the sea and live on shore with his wife’s relations up the country. I never saw a poor fellow so cut up and broken-hearted when he saw all his hopes blown to the winds, and knew that, for many a long year, he might not see his wife or little ones. He knows well the ups and downs of a sailor’s life, and that very likely he might never see them again. I know that I could not stand his grief. Captain Gale did all he could to get the lieutenant to let him off, but nothing would do. The only answer was, ‘His Majesty wants seamen, and seamen he must have.’