Chapter 12 - Page 2

helm. Notwithstanding all this, we did very well, having a good
run, until we got on the coast, which we reached in the month of January.
A north-wester drove us off, and we had a pretty tough week of it, but
brought the ship up to the Hook, at the end of that time, and anchored her
safely in the East River. The Clyde must have been a ship of about three
hundred tons, and, including every one on board, nine of us sailed her
from the eastward of the Cape to her port, without any serious difficulty.

I did not stay long ashore, for the money went like smoke, but shipped in
a brig called the Margaret, bound to Belfast. This vessel struck in the
Irish channel, but she was backed off with little difficulty, and got safe
into her port. The return passage was pleasant, and without any accident.

Such a voyage left little to spend, and I was soon on the look-out for a
fresh berth. I shipped this time as mate, in a brig called the William
Henry, bound on a smuggling voyage to the coast of Spain. We took in
tobacco, segars, &c. &c., and the brig dropped down to Staten Island. Here
I quarrelled with the captain about some cotton wick, and I threw up my
situation. I knew there were more ships than parish churches, and felt no
concern about finding a place in one, up at town. The balance of my
advance was paid back, and I left the smuggling trade, like an honest man.
I only wish this change of purpose had proceeded from a better motive.

My next windfall was Jack's berth on board a beautiful little schooner
called the Ida, that was to sail for Curaçoa, in the hope of being
purchased by the governor of the island or a yacht. I expected to find my
way to the Spanish main, after the craft was sold. We got out without any
accident, going into port of a Sunday morning. The same morning, an
English frigate and a sloop-of-war came in and anchored. That afternoon
these vessels commenced giving liberty to their men. We were alongside of
a wharf, and, in the afternoon, our crew took a drift in some public
gardens in the suburbs of the town. Here an incident occurred that is
sufficiently singular to be mentioned.

I was by myself in the garden, ruminating on the past, and, I suppose,
looking melancholy and in the market, when I perceived an English
man-of-war's-man eyeing me pretty closely. After a while, he came up, and
fell into discourse with me. Something that fell from him made me distrust
him from the first, and I acted with great caution. After sounding me for
some time, he inquired if I had any berth. I told him, no. He then went
on, little by little, until he got such answers as gave him confidence,
when he let me into the secret of his real object. He said he belonged to
the frigate, and had liberty until