were it not that the most common of all inquiries, respecting every man who comes before the public, is, “who is he? whence did he proceed? who were his parents?” &c., i would not detain the reader with any account of my humble ancestors and their circumstances. but, since men naturally expect this information, and would hence consider my narrative imperfect without it, i shall take the liberty to introduce them.
my father’s occupation was that of valet de chambre to lord william fitzroy, son of the duke of grafton. my recollections concerning him are few and indistinct, as he died while i was yet scarcely three years old. one little incident alone reminds me of wearing a mourning dress as a memento of sorrow for his death. returning from the parish church in walthamstow, i observed the larger boys amusing themselves by swinging across the rails of the fences; endeavoring to join in their amusement, my hands slipped, and falling into a muddy ditch, i nearly finished my course, ere it was well begun, by a violent death. a benevolent stranger, however, rescued me, and once safe, my grief for the sad condition of my little black frock was excessive and inconsolable. a trifling cause for sorrow, to be sure, yet men and women often grieve for causes equally contemptible.
although my personal remembrances of my father’s death are so indistinct, yet the frequent mention made of him by my mother, has left the pleasing impression on my mind that he died a christian. “i have thought of my numerous sins, but god has forgiven them all. be not troubled, for the lord will provide for you and your children. you need not fear to leave me, for i am not alone; god is with me, though you are out of the room,” were among his dying expressions; when, after fourteen months endurance of the pains which accompany a slow consumption, he approached “that bourne from which no traveller returns.” i expect to find my honored father in heaven.
wanstead, in essex, about seven miles from the great metropolis of england, was the town, and 1798 the year, of my birth. were it necessary to designate the place more particularly, it might be said that the part of wanstead where i first struggled into being, was called nightingale place; a most musical name, conferred in honor of the nightingales which abounded in the vicinity.
two years subsequently to my father’s demise, my mother became an inmate of the family of lady francis spencer, daughter of the duke of grafton, and wife of lord spencer. as a consequence of this event, i was deprived of a mother’s care and consigned to the charge of my aunt turner, whose family amounted to the very respectable number of twenty-two sons and two daughters. the transfer of a child from the care of its parent to that of another person, may appear, at first sight, to be a very unimportant incident; but trifling as it seems, it often exerts an influence which very materially changes the destiny of the child: it was so in my case. most of my cousins were sailors, and some of them were constantly returning home, bringing, with true sailors’ munificence, the pleasing and curious productions of distant climes as presents to their parents and friends; then, seated round the bright hearth-side, they used to tell of wild adventures and hair-breadth escapes, spinning out the winter evening’s tale to the infinite delight of their willing listeners. poor fellows! three of them died at sea; two more, john and richard, perished in the ill-fated blenheim, a seventy-four gun ship of the british navy, which went down off the cape of good hope, with seven hundred as brave men on board as ever trod a plank. notwithstanding these sad recollections, and[9] though none perceived it, my three years’ residence among these “sailors bold” decided the nature of my future calling; it captivated my imagination and begat a curiosity, which ultimately led me to make my “home upon the bounding deep.”
an orphan is ever exposed to changes. the loss of either parent calls for a degree of sympathy and kindness from others, which they are rarely willing to expend except on their own. such is the almost universal selfishness of human nature. my experience affords a verification of the truthfulness of the remark. for some cause or other, it became inconvenient for me to remain with my kind aunt turner, and my next home was with a widowed aunt, at wanstead, where i did not meet with the same kindness of treatment. the breaking of a cup, or any of the thousand-and-one offences found in the list of juvenile defects, was sure to bring upon me the infliction of the rod; and, what was equally painful, my most economical aunt exacted the full payment for all these losses from the little pocket money i obtained by holding a horse, running errands, or as new-year and christmas presents; thus gratifying her temper and her covetousness at once, besides embittering, to some extent, the boyish hours of my unfortunate self.
there is no evil in the management of children to be more deprecated than that species of treatment which tends to destroy their happiness. correction for obvious faults, in a proper manner, is essential to their proper moral training; but a habit of incessantly scolding them for every little accident or offence, only serves to excite the growth of evil passions and to make them dislike their home; things to be avoided as much as scylla and charybdis by the careful mariner. the influence of such mal-treatment follows the child through life, like an evil genius, materially affecting his views of life and the temper of his mind. for aught that now occurs to me, but for this unkindness, my early predilection for the sea would have died within me; while, as it was, i panted to enjoy the freedom my fancy painted in its pictures of sailor life. to add to my sorrows, my mother removed my sister, who had been my cheerful companion and true friend, to a lady’s school at woodstock, in oxfordshire, for the twofold purpose of affording her greater literary advantages, and of being able to see her more frequently.
several incidents occurred during my abode here, which tended to increase my growing desire. a smart, active sailor, over six feet in height, and well-proportioned, one day presented himself at my aunt’s door. he told us he had been to america, where he had seen a young man named george turner, who was her nephew and my cousin. he proceeded to tell many fine stories about him, and at last inquired if she should not like to see him, and if she should know him.
“i don’t know as i should,” said my aunt, “he has been away so long.”
“well, then,” replied he, “i am george turner!”
this fine, bold seaman, then, was my own cousin, son to my aunt turner; he had been eleven years at sea, and, after visiting his parents, took this method of surprising his aunt. most likely he has made this adventure the subject of many a forecastle yarn since then. while he remained he was so jolly, so liberal, and so full of pleasant stories, that i began to feel quite sure that sailors were noble fellows.
we were also favored with a visit from an uncle, then visiting europe from the west indies. he was one of two brothers, who were educated at greenwich for the navy. one of them had entered the british navy, and by dint of merit and hard service rose to the possession of a commission in the service, but ultimately perished at sea. this one had chosen the merchant service, but afterwards settled at antigua. he took me with him to london, and carried me over the west india docks; he being well acquainted with many of the captains, they treated me with playful attention, inquiring if i did not wish to be a cabin-boy, and the like. when i returned to wanstead, it was with a stronger desire than ever to be a sailor. my uncle went to trinidad, and died shortly after.
a very pleasant piece of intelligence greeted me soon after these incidents; it was nothing less than my removal from the care of my unkind aunt to the roof of my mother. weary of her widowhood, she had again become a wife. my new parent was a widower with one son; a carpenter by occupation, in the employ of the duke of marlborough. great was my joy when this fact was communicated to my young mind. i hailed it as a deliverance from bondage, and with beaming eyes and cheerful face hurried to bid adieu to my classmates in the day and in the sunday school—a sad proof of the unfitness of my aunt for her task; since a child properly treated, will love its home too well to quit it without a tear; and if parents and guardians wish to prevent their children from being wanderers and stragglers through the wide world, let me bid them exert the utmost effort to make their home pleasant. throw a charm round it, make it enchanted ground, cause it to become, in the language of a living poet,
“the fairy ring of bliss”
and then your children will love it too well to wander.
but i was now about to leave wanstead, and, although delighted to be rid of the surveillance of a cross old relation, there were some things which threw an air of sadness occasionally over my mind. there were many pleasant associations connected with the place; its beautiful park, with herds of timid deer grazing under its tall oaks, upon whose green old heads the sun had shone for centuries; the venerable mansion, seated like a queen amid the sylvan scene; the old parish church, with its gorgeously painted windows, to which i had often walked on the sabbath with my fellow-scholars in the sabbath school, and beside whose deep-toned organ i had sat listening to the learned priest; the annual hunt at easter, in which i had often joined the crew of idle lads that gave chase to the distracted deer; and the pleasant walks, made cheerful by the songs of innumerable birds, in epping forest, were all to be left—perhaps forever. this thought made me somewhat sad, but it was swallowed up in the joy i felt when my mother appeared to conduct me to bladen, some sixty miles from london, which was the place of her abode since her marriage.
behold me then, gentle reader, seated with my mother on the outside of a stage-coach, with some ten fellow-passengers. the stage-coach of england is quite a different vehicle from the carriage known by that name in america. true, it is drawn by four horses, and it runs on four wheels, but here the likeness ends; instead of being built to carry twelve persons inside, it carries but six, while outside it has seats for twelve. three or four passengers ride very comfortably behind, in what is called the basket, which is the territory of the guard, as the boot before is of the coachman. all mail coaches, and all others travelling in the night, carry a guard, or an armed man, for the purpose of protecting the coach from the attacks of footpads or highway robbers.
the dullness of our journey was somewhat relieved, after a long season of silence, by the distress of an unfortunate passenger, who, falling asleep, nodded so violently, that his hat, supposing it was receiving notice to quit, very unceremoniously took leave of the skull it covered, and plunged into the mud. the outcry of the poor passenger, who was soon waked by the wind sporting amid his hair, and his unavailing requests to stop the stage, put us all into good humor with ourselves and with each other.
we had another source of relief in the antics of a wild, hair-brained sailor. from spinning yarns, which looked amazingly like new inventions, he would take to dancing on the roof of the coach; at the foot of a hill he would leap off, and then spring up again with the agility of a monkey, to the no small amusement of the passengers. the more i saw of this reckless, thoughtless tar, the more enamored i became with the idea of a sea life; and thus this journey to my mother’s new abode was another link in the chain that decided my future destiny in the drama of life. how strangely and imperceptibly do small events tend to unexpected results. a match may fire a city and lay desolate the work of ages; a single leak may sink a bark and carry desolation to a hundred firesides—and trifles in the daily scenes of human life, give character to our immortality. we cannot, therefore, too carefully watch the influence of small events, especially on young minds.
at woodstock, famed in the annals of england as the scene of the loves of king henry and rosamond clifford, we quitted our stage companions, and proceeded on foot to bladen, two miles distant. our road lay through blenheim or woodstock park, which we entered through the triumphal arch, a spacious portal, erected to the memory of john, duke of marlborough, by sarah, his duchess. on entering the park, which is nearly twelve miles in circumference, one of the most beautiful prospects imaginable disclosed itself. blenheim palace, which is among the most magnificent piles of architecture in england, appeared in front; on the left were to be seen a part of the village of woodstock, and on the right a broad and spacious lake, crossed by a superb bridge; a lofty column on the rising ground, erected in honor of john, duke of marlborough, on which is the statue of that noble warrior; a delightful valley, hills, plantations, herds of deer feeding, shady groves and ancient trees, all conspired to render the scene enchantingly beautiful.
blenheim palace, or castle, was built at the public expense, in the reign of queen anne, and was given, with its annexed demesnes, in concurrence with the voice of parliament, to john, duke of marlborough, as a testimony of royal favor and national gratitude for his successes over the french and bavarians; particularly for his victory at blenheim, on the banks of the danube, on the 2d of august, 1704.
crossing the park towards bladen, we were met by my father-in-law, who received me with a kindness which prepossessed me at once in his favor; he conducted us home, where, to my no small gratification, i met my sister.
my father-in-law appeared to be in comfortable circumstances. he resided in a very neat house, built of stone, shaded by a noble apricot tree, and ornamented with a small but pretty garden. this, together with another similar tenement, was his own property. to add to my satisfaction, i perceived that he was very kind to my mother, and also to myself. she one day expressed a desire to have the cold stone floor of the kitchen removed, and boarded instead; my father, at considerable expense, gratified her wish; this assured me of his regard for her comfort.
with the village itself, i was equally well pleased. though containing few houses, it was delightfully pleasant. fine farms, with large flocks of quiet sheep grazing on their hill-sides; expansive fields, surrounded with fragrant hawthorn hedges; and old farm-houses, with their thatched roofs, and massive wheat ricks, met the pleased eye on all sides; while cultivated gardens and numerous wild flowers, especially the modest cowslip and humble violet, scented the air and perfumed the breeze. thus far, perhaps, bladen was equal to wanstead; but in its moral aspects it was inferior. there was far less regard for the sabbath; less attention to the moral culture of the young, than at the latter place. that blessed institution, which has vivified and renewed the church, which has filled her with the vigorous pulsations of youth—from which, as from some prolific nursery, she has obtained the plants, which now stand on her mountain-tops like the tall cedars of lebanon—the modest, unassuming sabbath school was not there. consequently, the sabbath was spent in roaming about the fields, in amusements, in visiting, in taking excursions to a place called ramsden, some seven miles distant. true, there was a parish church, with two clergymen belonging to its altars, but there was service only once every sunday within its ancient walls. during lent, however, both priests and people were more religious; the church was better attended; the children were examined as to their knowledge of the church catechism! they were even excited to diligence in committing it to memory by the inducement of reward. a bible and two prayer books were given to the lads who excelled in answering the questions. at the first lent examination after my coming to bladen, the bible, the highest prize, was awarded to me, and the second year the minister assigned me the task of hearing the others recite—a striking proof of the benefit of sunday school instruction; it gave me both a moral and mental superiority over all my compeers in the little village of bladen. this special attention to religion only lasted during the term of lent; when, with a return to the use of meat, the people returned to the neglect of the sabbath.
the inhabitants of bladen were very social in their habits. they held an annual feast, called bladen feast, to which they invited their friends from other towns; it commenced on sabbath and continued three days. eating, drinking, talking, fortune-telling, gambling, occupied three days of wassail and jollity; after which the visitors returned to their respective towns, and the people to their occupations. the neighboring villages gave similar feasts in their turn. they were occasions of much evil and folly.
my time flew very rapidly and pleasantly away for two or three years, until, like most children, i began to sigh for deliverance from the restraints of home. i had already left school, and for some time, being now about thirteen years of age, had been em[ployed in the pleasure-grounds of blenheim palace. this, however, was too tame a business for a lad of my spirits. i had heard tales of the sea from my cousins; my mother had filled my mind with the exploits of my grandfather; my imagination painted a life on the great deep in the most glowing colors; my mind grew uneasy; every day, my ordinary pursuits became more and more irksome, and i was continually talking about going to sea; indeed, i had made myself unhappy by being so discontented.
little do lads and young men know of the difference between the comfort of a parent’s roof and the indifference, unkindness, and trouble they invariably experience, who go out into the world, until they have made the experiment. they paint everything in bright colors; they fancy the future to be all sunshine, all sweets, all flowers, but are sure to be wofully disappointed, when once away from the fireside of their infancy. let me advise young people, if they wish to escape hardships, to be contented, to remain quietly at home, abiding the openings of providence, obeying the wishes of their parents, who not only have their best good at heart, but, however they may think to the contrary, actually know what is most for their advantage.
my passion for a seaman’s life was not a little increased by a soldier, who was sergeant to a company in lord francis spencer’s regiment of cavalry. seated by my father’s hearth-side, this old soldier, who had once been a sailor, would beguile many an evening hour with his endless tale, while i sat listening in enrapt attention. my mother, too, heedlessly fanned the flame by her descriptions of the noble appearance of the ships she had seen when at brighton. besides this, a footman at blenheim house used to sing a song called “the poor little sailor boy;” which, although somewhat gloomy in its descriptions, only served to heighten the flame of desire within me, until i could think of nothing else, day or night, but of going to sea.
finding my desires so strong, my kind-hearted mother mentioned them to lady spencer. just at that time, her brother, lord william fitzroy, who was then expecting the command of a frigate, and with whom my departed father had lived as valet, happened to visit blenheim, previously to going to sea. anxious to serve my mother, lady spencer mentioned me to lord fitzroy. he sent for me. trembling in every joint, i was ushered into his presence. he inquired if i should like to go to sea. “yes, my lord, i should,” was my ready answer. he dismissed me, after some further questionings; but was heard to say, before he left, that he would take me under his care, and see to my future advancement.
these dazzling prospects not only well nigh turned my brain, but decided my parents to send me to sea. to have their son an officer in the navy was an unlooked-for honor; and they now entered into my plans and feelings with almost as much ardor as myself. alas! we were all doomed to learn how little confidence can be placed in the promises of nobles!
not long after lord fitzroy’s departure, we received a letter stating the fact of his appointment to his majesty’s frigate macedonian, which, being out of dock, was rapidly preparing for sea. this intelligence was the signal for bustle, excitement, preparation, and i know not what. friends and gossips constantly crowded in to administer their gratuitous advice; some predicting, to my infinite delight, that certainly so smart a boy would make a great man; others wore very grave countenances, and gave certain expressive shrugs of the shoulders, while they told of flogging through the fleet, or of being “seized up” for merely a look or a word; in short, but for a strong conviction in my own breast that this was all said for effect, it is doubtful whether they would not have succeeded in deterring me from my purpose.
at last, after much ado, the long-expected day arrived when i was to bid farewell to home and friends, to venture abroad upon an unknown future. it would only vex the reader by its common place character, or i would reveal all the nice little acts of parental, brotherly and neighborly affection which took place. suffice it to say, that my parting was very much the same as that of all other boys of twelve, when they leave home for the first time—a mixture of hopes and fears, of tears and smiles, of sunshine and cloud.
attended by my mother and her infant daughter, on the 12th day of july, 1810, i turned my back on the quiet hamlet of bladen. henceforth my lot was to be cast amid noise, dissipation, storms and danger. this, however, disturbed my mind but little; brushing away a tear, i leaped gaily on to the outside of the coach, and in a few minutes, enveloped in a cloud of dust, was on my way to london, filled with the one absorbing idea, “i am going to sea! i am going to sea!” should the reader take the trouble to read the following chapters, he will learn the mishaps, hardships, pleasures and successes that befell me there; and though my narrative may not be filled with the witching tales, and romantic descriptions, that abound in the works of the novelist, it shall at least commend itself to his notice for its truthfulness.
