Chapter 21 - Page 2

"nigger gollies" that often escaped from the fellow
involuntarily.

"What do you mean by that uproar, on the mizen-royal yard," I called
out angrily--for the _style_ of my ship had now become an object
of concern with me. "Keep silence, sir, or I'll find a way to instruct
you in the art."

"Lord!--masser Mile--" cried the negro, pointing eagerly towards the
schooner--"there go Pretty Poll."

It was our old craft sure enough, and I hailed her, incontinently.

"Pretty Polly, ahoy!"

"Halloo!"

"Where are you bound, sir; and when did that schooner get in from the
Pacific?"

"We are bound to Martinique--The Poll got home from the South Seas
about six months since. This is her third voyage to the West Indies,
since."

Here then was the certainty that the cargo sent home, and the letter
with it, were all safe. I must be expected, and the owners would soon
hear of my arrival. We were not kept long in doubt; for, as the ship
entered the Hudson, a boat approached, and in her were two of the
principal members of our firm. I had seen them, and that is all; but
my own letters, and the report of the officer who brought home the
schooner, had told them all about me. Could Nelson, after his victory
of the Nile, have walked into the King of England's private cabinet
with the news of his own success, his reception would not have been
more flattering than that I now received. I was "Captain
Wallingforded" at every sentence; and commendations were so intermixed
with inquiries about the value of the cargo, that I did not know which
to answer first. I was invited to dine the very next day by both the
gentlemen in the same breath; and when I raised some objections
connected with the duty of the ship, the invitations were extended
from day to day, for a week. So very welcome is he who brings us
gold!

We went alongside of a North River wharf, and had everything secure,
just as the sun was setting. The people were then allowed to go ashore
for the night. Not a soul of them asked for a dollar; but the men
walked up the wharf attended by a circle of admiring landlords, that
put them all above want. The sailor who has three years' pay under his
lee, is a sort of Rothschild on Jack's Exchange. All the harpies about
our lads knew that the Crisis and her teas, &c. were hypothecated to
meet their own ten and twenty dollar advances.

I dressed myself hurriedly, and ordered Neb to imitate my example. One
of the owners had kindly volunteered to see Major Merton and Emily to
a suitable residence, with an alacrity that surprised me. But the
influence of England, and Englishmen, in all