“Can you mend it?” he asked.
I told him that I could complain.
“To whom?” he said. “You have no one to complain to—no friend in the place. Now let me advise you to do as I do. When you can’t cure a thing, grin and bear it; but if you see your way out of a fix, then go tooth and nail at it, and don’t let anything stop you till you’re clear. That’s my maxim, youngster; but there’s no use kicking against the pricks—it wears out one’s shoes, and hurts the feet into the bargain. Now, soon after I took my passage in this here Black Swan, I guessed I had made a mistake; but what would have been the use of my going to law about it? I knowed better. I should only have sent my last dollar to look after the many which have gone to prove I was first cousin to a set of people, who would all rather have heard my father was drowned years ago than have set eyes on me. I tell you, Peter, you must grin and bear it, as you’ll have to do many things as you get through life.”
I found that my friend practised what he preached; for so completely were his finances exhausted by his law expenses, that he had to husband all his resources to enable him to return home. In board and lodging he was worse off than I was; and, as he said, he was accustomed to camp out at night, to save the expense of a bed. He used to amuse himself in the day by walking about to look out for a snug place to sleep in at night, either in the city or its neighbourhood, and he seldom occupied the same spot two nights running. He assured me, and I believed him, that it was far pleasanter than sleeping in the close atmosphere of a crowded room; and it reminded him faintly of his beloved prairies, on which he had spent the greater part of his life. The chief portion of every day, for a week before the ship was reported ready for sailing, I passed with my new-found friend; and, as may be supposed, I did not again offer my valuable services to the mate of the Black Swan, nor was any inquiry made after me by her worthy captain.
Chapter Five.
At last I was informed by Mr Cruden that I might transfer my chest and myself on board the Black Swan. Accordingly, the old porter wheeled the former down to the docks, while I walked by its side. I gave the old porter a shilling for his trouble: his eye brightened, and he blessed me, and muttered something about wishing that I had fallen into better hands; but he was afraid, apparently, of saying more, and casting another glance at me, I suspect of commiseration, he tottered off to his daily avocations. My chest, which was a very small one, was stowed away by one of the seamen under a bunk in the forecastle. I thought that I was to have a cabin under the poop, and to mess with the captain; but when I made inquiries, no one could give any information, and the captain was nowhere to be seen. Everything on board appeared in the wildest confusion; and I must own that I got most unaccountably in everybody’s way, and accordingly got kicked out of it without the slightest ceremony.
Silas had not arrived, so I could not go to him for information. I therefore climbed up out of the way, to the boat, placed amidships, on the top of the booms. Soon afterwards the emigrants’ bag and baggage began to arrive. I was amused by observing the odd and mixed collection of things the poor people brought with them, some of the more bulky articles of which were not admitted on board. The Jew harpies were on the quays ready to snap them up, giving little or nothing in return. I thought that it was a great pity that there were no means to enable these poor people to obtain better information before they left home, to have saved them the expense of dragging so much useless lumber about with them. I pitied them, not because they were going to another land where they could get food and employment, but for their helpless ignorance, and the want of any one fit to lead or direct them, as also for the treatment they were receiving at the hands of the countrymen they were leaving for ever.
Many of them resented bitterly the impositions practised on them; and I saw some of them, with significant gestures, take off their shoes and shake the dust over the ship’s side as they stepped on board, while they gave vent to their feelings in oaths not lowly muttered. Henceforth, instead of friends and supporters, they were to be foes to England and the English—aliens of the country which should have cherished and protected them, but did not. Such things were—such things are: when will they cease to be? What a strange mixture of people there were, from all parts of the United Kingdom—aged men and women; young brides and their husbands; mothers with tribes of children, some with their infants still unweaned—talking many different dialects, weeping, laughing, shrieking, and shouting! At last they got their berths allotted to them, and they began to stow away their provisions and baggage between decks. Some kept going backwards and forwards from the ship to the shore, and no notice being given, many of them were left behind when the ship hauled out of dock, and had to come on board in boats, at a considerable expense, after being well frightened at the thoughts that we had sailed without them.