I was therefore "hinted off;" but with
due respect to my captain, who is still living, I should have been
sent on board of my ship and cautioned against the bad habits of the
natives of North Corner and Barbican; and if I could not be admitted
to the mysterious conversation of a captain's table, I should have
been told in a clear and decided manner to depart, without the
needless puzzle of an innuendo, which I did not and could not
understand.
I returned on board about eight o'clock, where Murphy had gone before
me, and prepared a reception far from agreeable. Instead of being
welcomed to my berth, I was received with coldness, and I returned to
the quarter-deck, where I walked till I was weary, and then leaned
against a gun. From this temporary alleviation, I was roused by a
voice of thunder, "Lean off that gun." I started up, touched my hat,
and continued my solitary walk, looking now and then at the second
lieutenant, who had thus gruffly addressed me. I felt a dejection of
spirits, a sense of destitution and misery, which I cannot describe. I
had done no wrong, yet I was suffering as if I had committed a crime.
I had been aggrieved, and had vindicated myself as well as I could. I
thought I was among devils, and not men; my thoughts turned homeward.
I remembered my poor mother in her agony of grief, on the sofa; and my
unfeeling heart then found that it needed the soothings of affection.
I could have wept, but I knew not where to go; for I could not be seen
to cry on board of ship.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50