seekfortune afresh. Perhaps, too, the fact that I was naturally a "rollingstone," might have had much to do in my determination, at length arrivedat, of bidding adieu to Lenore. There was yet another motive urging mydeparture--one which had been too long allowed to lie dormant within mybosom; my relatives were lost, and I knew not where to find them. Thisthought often arose, causing me much regret. I had as yet no reason tobelieve that they had left Liverpool; but if such should prove to be thecase, the sooner I started in search of them, the sooner would myconscience be satisfied.
I waited till my last shilling was spent; and then sold a signet ring--which I had taken from the finger of a dead Mexican, on the field ofbattle--obtaining thirty shillings for it. With this trifling sum I hada great deal to accomplish. It constituted the sole fund with which myrelatives were to be sought and found. It was the capital I had toinvest, in the business of making a fortune worthy of Lenore!
I advertised for my mother in some of the Liverpool papers; but the onlyresult was the loss of the greater part of my cash. She had probablygone after Mr Leary to Australia. Having followed him from Dublin toLiverpool, was proof that she was foolish enough to follow him to theAntipodes; and the money she had received for the lease of her house,would enable her to go there.
Had I been certain that she had sailed to Australia, I should have goneafter her; but I could scarce believe that she had been guilty of an actof folly; which even the absence of common sense would neither excusenor explain. Because she had once acted foolishly, was not positiveproof that she still continued the victim of her unfortunateinfatuation.
The mere conjecture that my mother had emigrated to Australia, would nothave been a sufficient reason for my going so far in search of her--sofar away from Lenore. Still it was certain I must go somewhere. I hada fortune to make; and, in my belief, Liverpool was the last place wherean _honest_ man would have stood any chance in making it.
My clothing had become threadbare, and my hat and boots were worn tosuch a dilapidated condition, that I became every day more ashamed topay my visits to Lenore. I at length resolved upon discontinuing them.
I arose one morning, with the determination of making a move of somekind during the day: for the life that I had been leading for the pastsix weeks could be endured no longer.
I made an excursion to the docks, where I soon succeeded in finding aberth; and shipped for the "run" in a large vessel--a "liner"--bound toNew York. This business being settled, I proceeded to the house of MrsHyland--to bid her and her daughter "good-bye."
They showed every evidence of regret at my departure; and yet they didnot urge me very strenuously to remain: for they knew something of mydisposition.
I had a long conversation with Lenore alone.
"Miss Hyland," said I, "I am going in search of a fortune--a fortunethat must be obtained by hard toil; but that toil shall be sweetened byhope--the hope of seeing _you_ again. We are both young; and theknowledge of that gives me encouragement to hope. I shall not now speakto you of love; but I shall do so on my return. I believe that we arefriends; but I wish to make myself worthy of something more than yourfriendship."
I fancied that Lenore understood me. I cannot describe the exquisitepleasure that thrilled me, as I noted the expression of her featureswhile she stood listening. It did not forbid me to hope.
"I will not try to detain you, Rowland," she answered, "but if you areunsuccessful abroad, do not remain long away. Return to us; and youwill find those who can sympathise with your disappointments. I shallpray that no harm may befall you; and that we may soon meet again."
I could perceive her bosom trembling with some strong emotion, as sheuttered these parting words.
As I took her hand to bid the final "good bye," we were both unable tospeak; and we parted in silence.
The memory of that parting cheered me through many a dark and stormyhour of my after life.
Volume One, Chapter XVI.
ATLANTIC LINERS.
Perhaps the most worthless characters, who follow the sea as aprofession, are to be found among the crews of Atlantic liners--especially those trafficking between Liverpool and New York.
These men seldom make voyages to any other ports, than the two abovementioned; and their custom is to "ship for the run" in one vessel, andreturn in another. They do not affect long voyages; and prefer thatbetween Liverpool and New York to any other.
There are several reasons for this preference on their part.
One is the facility with which--on an Atlantic liner--they can rob eachother, and steal from the passengers.
Another is, that being, even for seamen, a profligate, dissipated set,these short voyages give them more frequent opportunities of being inport--where they can indulge in the vices and habits so congenial totheir vulgar tastes.
A third reason is, the great number of emigrant-passengers carriedbetween those ports, along with the loose observance of the PassengerAct--the rules of which are less strictly enforced upon Atlantic liners,than aboard ships going on longer voyages.
It may be inferred from this, that the ruffians comprising the crews ofthe Atlantic liners, have a better opportunity of plundering thepassengers than in any other ships.
When embarking on one of these vessels to recommence my duties as aseaman, I was not encumbered with much luggage; and I was not very longin her forecastle, before discovering that this was rather an advantagethan a misfortune!
I had spent so much of my money, that I should have been absolutelyunable to buy an outfit for any other "trip" than that between Liverpooland New York.
The less a sailor takes aboard with him on such a voyage, the less willhe lose before it is terminated.
One of the crew of the ship in which I sailed, was a young seaman, whohad never made the voyage from Liverpool to New York; and thereforelacked experience of the evil doings incidental to such a trip. He hadbeen foolish enough to bring on board a large "kit" of good clothing.The first night out of port, when this young man was keeping his watchon deck, one of his comrades below took notice of his chest.
"It's locked," said the man, stretching out his hand to try the lid.
"Blast him!" cried another, "I suppose he thinks we are all thieveshere!"
"Sarve him right if he were to lose every-things that's in it,"significantly remarked a third.
"So say I," chimed in a fourth speaker, drawing nearer to the kit, inorder to be at hand in case of a scramble--which the moment after wascommenced.
The chest was turned over, all hands taking share in the act; andwithout further ado, its bottom was knocked in. Most of the sailor'seffects were pulled out, and scattered about--each of the ruffiansappropriating to himself some article which he fancied.
Amongst other things, was a new pair of heavy horseskin boots, whichwere obtained by a fellow, who chanced to stand in need of them; and whopulled them on upon the spot.
The next day, the young sailor having missed his property, of coursecreated a disturbance about it. For this, he was only laughed at by therest of the crew.
He complained to the officers.
"Had your clothes stole, have you?" carelessly inquired the first mate."Well, that's what you might have expected. Some of the boys are queerfellows, I dare say. You should have taken better care of your togs--ifyou cared anything about them."
The next day, the young sailor saw one of the men with the stolen bootsupon his feet, and at once accused the wearer of the theft. But theonly satisfaction he obtained, was that of getting kicked with his ownboots!
We had on board between three and four hundred passengers--most of themIrish and German emigrants.
Several deaths occurred amongst these poor people. Whenever one of themdied, the fact would be reported to the officers; and then the firstmate would order the sailmaker to enclose the body in a sack--for thepurpose of its being thrown overboard. This command to the sailmakerwas generally given as follows:
"Sails! there's a dead 'un below. Go down, a
nd sack 'im."
As these words were heard by the passengers--alas! too often repeated--the sailmaker was known during the remainder of the voyage by the nameof Mr Sackem; and this unfortunate functionary became an object ofmysterious dread to many of the passengers--especially the women andchildren.
Women generally have a great horror of seeing the dead body of any oftheir relatives thrown into the sea; and Mr Sackem incurred theill-will of many of the female emigrants, who were simple enough tothink that he was someway or other to blame for the bodies beingdisposed of in this off-hand, and apparently unfeeling fashion!
A young child--one of a large family of Irish people--had died onenight; and the next morning the sailmaker went into the steerage wherethe body lay--to prepare it for interment in the usual way.
The first attempt made by Mr Sackem, towards the performance of hisduty, brought upon him an assault from the relatives of the