Читать книгу The Life and Adventures of John Nicol, Mariner - John Nicol - Страница 7

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I NO SOONER had the money that was due me in my hat than I set off for London direct and, after a few days of enjoyment, put my bedding and chest on board a vessel bound for Leith. Every halfpenny I had saved was in it but nine guineas, which I kept upon my person to provide for squalls. The trader fell down the river but, there being no wind and the tide failing, the captain told us we might sleep in London, only to be sure to be on board before eight o'clock in the morning. I embraced the opportunity and lost my passage.

As all my savings were in my chest, and a number of passengers on board whom I did not like, I immediately took the diligence to Newcastle. There were no mails running direct for Edinburgh every day, as now. It was the month of March, yet there was a great deal of snow on the ground; the weather was severe, but not so cold as at St John's. When the diligence set off there were four passengers: two ladies, another sailor and myself. Our lady companions, for the first few stages, were proud and distant, scarcely taking any notice of us. I was restrained by their manner. My companion was quite at home chatting to them, unmindful of their monosyllabic answers. He had a good voice and sung snatches of sea songs, and was unceasing in his endeavours to please. By degrees their reserve wore off and the conversation became general. I now learned they were sisters who had been on a visit to a relation in London and were now returning to their father, who was a wealthy farmer. Before it grew dark we were all as intimate as if we had sailed for years in the same ship. The oldest, who appeared to be about twenty, attached herself to me and listened to my accounts of the different places I had been in with great interest. The youngest was as much interested by my volatile companion.

I felt a something uncommon arise in my breast as we sat side by side. I could think of nothing but my pretty companion. My attentions were not disagreeable to her and I began to think of settling, and how happy I might be with such a wife. After a number of efforts I summoned resolution to take her hand in mine. I pressed it gently. She drew it faintly back. I sighed. She laid her hand upon my arm, and in a whisper inquired if I was unwell. I was upon the point of telling her what I felt, and my wishes, when the diligence stopped at the inn. I wished we had been sailing in the middle of the Atlantic, for a covered cart drove up and a stout hearty old man welcomed them by their names, bestowing a hearty kiss upon each. I felt quite disappointed. He was their father. My pretty Mary did not seem to be so rejoiced at her father's kind salutation as might have been expected.

My companion, who was an Englishman, told me he would proceed no farther, but endeavour to win the hand of his pretty partner. I told him my present situation, that my chest and all I had was on board the Leith trader, and no direction upon it. On this account I was forced to proceed as fast as possible or I would have remained and shared his fortunes with all my heart. I took leave of them with a heavy heart, resolving to return. I could perceive Mary turn pale as I bade her farewell, while her sister looked joy itself when Williams told them he was to proceed no farther. Before the coach set off, I made him promise to write me an account of his success, and that I would return as soon as I had secured my chest and seen my father. He promised to do this faithfully. I whispered Mary a promise to see her soon, and pressed her hand as we parted. She returned the pressure. I did not feel without hope. When the farmer drove off, Williams accompanying them, I only wished myself in his place.

When the coach reached Newcastle, I soon procured another conveyance to Edinburgh and was at Leith before the vessel. When she arrived I went on board and found all safe. I then went to Borrowstownness, but found my father had been dead for some time. This was a great disappointment and grief to me. I wished I had been at home to have received his last blessing and advice, but there was no help. He died full of years; and that I may be as well prepared when I shall be called hence is my earnest wish. After visiting his grave and spending a few days with my friends, I became uneasy at not hearing from Williams. I waited for three weeks; then, losing all patience, I set off myself to see how the land lay. I took leave of home once more, with a good deal of money in my pocket, as I had been almost a miser at home, keeping all for the marriage, should I succeed.

The spring was now advancing apace, when I took my passage in a Newcastle trader and arrived safe at the inn where I had last parted from Mary. It was night when I arrived and, being weary, soon went to bed. I was up betimes in the morning. When I met Williams, he was looking very dull.

I shook hands, and asked, 'What cheer?'

He shook his head, and said, 'Why, Jack, we are on the wrong tack, and I fear will never make port. I had no good news to send, so it was of no use to write. I was at the farmer's last night. He swears, if ever I come near his house again, he will have me before the justice as an idle vagrant. My fair jilt is not much concerned, and I can scarce get a sight of her. She seems to shun me.'

I felt a chillness come over me at this information, and asked him what he meant to do.

'Why, set sail this day. Go to my mother, give her what I can spare, and then to sea again. My store is getting low here. But what do you intend to do, Jack?'

'Truth, Williams, I scarce know. I will make one trip to the farm, and if Mary is not as kind as I hope to find her I will be off too.'

Soon after breakfast I set off for the farmer's with an anxious heart. On my arrival I met Mary in the yard. She seemed fluttered at sight of me but, summoning up courage as I approached, she made a distant bow and coldly asked me how I did. I now saw there was no hope and had not recovered myself when her father came out, and in a rough manner demanded what I wanted and who I was. This in a moment brought me to myself and, raising my head, which had been bent towards the ground, I looked at him. Mary shrunk from my gaze but the old man came close up to me, and again demanded what I wanted.

'It is of no consequence,' I answered. Then, looking at Mary, 'I believe I am an unwelcome visitor—it is what I did not expect—so I will not obtrude myself upon you any longer.'

I then walked off as indifferent to appearance as I could make myself, but was tempted to look over my shoulder more than once. I saw Mary in tears and her father in earnest conversation with her.

I made up my mind to remain at the inn the rest of that day and all night, in hopes of receiving an appointment to meet Mary. I was loath to think I was indifferent to her—and the feeling of being slighted is so bitter I could have quarrelled with myself and all the world. I sat with Williams at the window all day. No message came. In the morning we bade adieu to the fair jilts with heavy hearts—Williams for his mother's and I for London.

After working a few weeks in London at my own business, my wandering propensities came as strong upon me as ever, and I resolved to embrace the first opportunity to gratify it, no matter whither, only let me wander. I had been many times on the different wharfs looking for a vessel, but the seamen were so plenty there was great difficulty in getting a berth.

I met by accident Captain Bond, who hailed me and inquired if I wished a berth. He had been captain of a transport in the American war. I had favoured him at St John's.

I answered him, 'It was what I was looking after.'

'Then, if you will, come and be cooper of the Leviathan Greenland ship. I am captain. You may go to Squire Mellish and say I recommend you for cooper.'

I thanked him for his goodwill, went, and was engaged and on board at work next day.

We sailed in a short time for the coast of Greenland, and touched at Lerwick, where we took on board what men we wanted. In the first of the season we were very unsuccessful, having very stormy weather. I at one time thought our doom was fixed. It blew a dreadful gale and we were for ten days completely fast in the ice. As far as we could see all was ice, and the ship was so pressed by it everyone thought we must either be crushed to pieces or forced out upon the top of the ice, there ever to remain. At length the wind changed and the weather moderated, and where nothing could be seen but ice, in a short time after, all as far as the eye could reach was open sea. What were our feelings at this change it were vain to attempt a description of—it was a reprieve from death.

The horrors of our situation were far worse than any storm I ever was in. In a storm upon a lea-shore, there, even in all its horrors, there is exertion to keep the mind up, and a hope to weather it. Locked up in ice, all exertion is useless. The power you have to contend with is far too tremendous and unyielding. It, like a powerful magician, binds you in its icy circle, and there you must behold, in all its horrors, your approaching fate, without the power of exertion, while the crashing of the ice and the less loud but more alarming cracking of the vessel serve all to increase the horrors of this dreadful sea-mare.

When the weather moderated we were very successful and filled our ship with four fish. I did not like the whale-fishing. There is no sight for the eye of the inquisitive after the first glance and no variety to charm the mind. Desolation reigns around: nothing but snow, or bare rocks and ice. The cold is so intense and the weather often so thick. I felt so cheerless that I resolved to bid adieu to the coast of Greenland for ever, and seek to gratify my curiosity in more genial climes.

We arrived safe in the river and proceeded up to our situation. But how strange are the freaks of fate! In the very port of London, as we were hurrying to our station, the tide was ebbing fast when the ship missed stays and yawed round, came right upon the Isle of Dogs, broke her back and filled with water. There was none of us hurt and we lost nothing as she was insured. I was one of those placed upon her to estimate the loss sustained amongst the casks, and was kept constantly on board for a long time.