Chapter 3 - Page 2

any of us.
The next morning all seemed right, and Bill began to be himself again;
often wishing, however, that the anchor was aweigh, and the ship turning
out of the harbour. We soon got at work, and began to work down to the
mouth of the haven, with a light breeze. The moment we were clear of the
points, or head-lands, we could make a fair wind of it up channel. The ship
was in stays, pretty well down, tinder Pendennis, and the order had been
given to swing the head yards. Bill and Cooper were pulling together at
the fore-top-sail brace, when the report of a musket was heard quite near
the ship. Bill let go the brace, turned as white as a sheet, and
exclaimed, "I'm gone!" At first, the men near him thought he was shot, but
a gesture towards the boat which had fired, explained his meaning. The
order was given to belay the head braces, and we waited the result
in silence.

The press-gang was soon on board us, and its officer asked to have the
crew mustered. This humiliating order was obeyed, and all hands of us were
called aft. The officer seemed easily satisfied, until he came to Bill.
"What countryman are _you_?" he asked. "An American--a Philadelphian,"
answered Bill. "You are an Englishman." "No, sir; I was born--" "Over
here, across the bay," interrupted the officer, with a cool smile, "where
your dear wife is at this moment. Your name is ______ ______, and you are
well known in Falmouth. Get your clothes, and be ready to go in the boat."

This settled the matter. Captain Johnston paid Bill his wages, his chest
was lowered into the boat, and the poor fellow took an affectionate leave
of his shipmates. He told those around him that his fate was sealed. He
was too old to outlive a war that appeared to have no end, and they would
never trust _him_ on shore. "My foot will never touch the land again," he
said to Cooper, as he squeezed his young friend's hand, "and I am to live
and die, with a ship for my prison."

The loss of poor Bill made us all sad; but there was no remedy. We got
into the offing, and squared away for the river again. When we reached
London, the ship discharged down at Limehouse, where she lay in a tier of
Americans for some time. We then took in a little ballast, and went up
opposite to the dock gates once more. We next docked and cleaned the ship,
on the Deptford side, and then hauled into the wet-dock in which we had
discharged our flour.

Here the ship lay part of May, all of June, and most of July, taking in
freight for Philadelphia, as it offered. This gave our people a good deal
of spare time, and we were allowed to go ashore whenever we were not
wanted. Cooper now took me in tow, and