Chapter 8 - Page 2

letter-of-marque, while then in town.

Neb had received private instructions, and my sea dunnage, as well as
his own, was on board the Wallingford--low enough the wreck had
reduced both to be--and money obtained from Mr. Hardinge was used to
purchase more. I now began to look about me for a ship, determined to
please my eye as to the vessel, and my judgment as to the voyage. Neb
had orders to follow the wharves on the same errand. I would sooner
trust Neb than Rupert on such a duty. The latter had no taste for
ships; felt no interest in them; and I have often wondered why he took
a fancy to go to sea at all. With Neb it was very different. He was
already an expert seaman; could hand, reef and steer, knot and splice,
and was as useful as nine men in ten on board a vessel. It is true, he
did not know when it became necessary to take in the last reef--had no
notion of stowing a cargo so as to favour the vessel, or help her
sailing; but he would break out a cask sooner than most men I ever met
with. There was too much "nigger" in him for head-work of that sort,
though he was ingenious and ready enough in his way. A sterling fellow
was Neb, and I got in time to love him very much as I can conceive one
would love a brother.

One day, after I had seen all the sights, and had begun to think
seriously of finding a ship, I was strolling along the wharves on the
latter errand, when I heard a voice I knew cry put, "There, Captain
Williams, there's just your chap; he'll make as good a third-mate as
can be found in all America." I had a sort of presentiment this
applied to me, though I could not, on the instant, recall the
speaker's name. Turning to look in the direction of the sounds, I saw
the hard countenance of Marble, alongside the weather-beaten face of a
middle-aged shipmaster, both of whom were examining me over the
nettings of a very promising-looking armed merchantman. I bowed to
Mr. Marble, who beckoned me to come on board, where I was regularly
introduced to the master.

This vessel was called the Crisis, a very capital name for a craft in
a country where crisises of one sort or another occur regularly as
often as once in six months. She was a tight little ship of about four
hundred tons, had hoop-pole bulwarks, as I afterwards learned, with
nettings for hammocks and old junk, principally the latter; and showed
ten nine-pounders, carriage-guns, in her batteries. I saw she was
loaded, and was soon given to understand that her shipping-articles
were then open, and the serious question was of procuring a
third-mate. Officers were scarce, so many young men were pressing into
the navy; and Mr. Marble ventured to recommend me, from near a
twelvemonth's knowledge of my character. I had not