“Oh, Peter, Peter! What should us do if anything was to happen to ye out on the cruel sea!” she cried, as she held my hand and rubbed her eyes with her apron.
The next day the Good Intent went out of harbour, and I began in earnest the seafaring life I was destined to lead.
Chapter Eight.
My first voyage.
Wind south-south-west. The North Foreland had been rounded; the countless craft, of all sizes and rigs, generally to be found off the mouth of the Thames, had been cleared, and the Good Intent, with studding-sails alow and aloft, was standing across the German Ocean.
Jim and I soon found our sea-legs, and were as well able to go aloft to reef topsails as the older hands. We were already well up to the ordinary duties of seamen, and could take our place at the helm with any of them.
“Mr Gray was not mistaken about thee, laddie,” said the captain to me one day as I came aft to the wheel. “Go on as thou hast begun; obey God, and thou wilt prosper.”
I was much pleased with this praise, for the old man was not given to throwing words away. While I steered he stood by telling me not only what to do then, but how to act under various circumstances. At other times he made me come into the cabin and gave me lessons in navigation to fit me to become a mate and master. Jim, being unable to read, and showing no aptitude for learning, had not the same advantages. We both of us lived forward with the men, some of whom were a little jealous of the favour I received, and not only played me tricks, ordered me to do all sorts of disagreeable jobs, and gave me a taste of the