We soon heard people in pursuit of us, and their shouts roused the people in the houses near, and sailors and boarding-house keepers came out into the streets and alleys to see what the commotion was all about. We ran on blindly, dodging some who would have stopped us, and not knowing where to look for safety and shelter, when a great, burly fellow in a crimson waistcoat and fur cap seized us by the collars and stayed our progress.
“Whither bound, you rascals?” he said.
“Oh, please, sir, we’ve left the workhouse, and want to go to sea,” we panted out.
“Come along,” he said, and shoved us before him into a gloomy court, and then into a door, and after that through passages, some dark and some dimly lighted, and up and down broken and slippery stairs, until at last we came into a small room, which was lighted by a couple of tallow candles stuck into bottles. On one side was a bunk like a ship’s, and in the middle a deal table, on which were a bottle and glasses.
“There,” said our guide; “I don’t think the beadles’ll catch you now. ’Twould puzzle them to find their way here. Now, let’s have a look at you, and see whether you’re worth keeping, or ’twould pay best to get a reward for taking you back.”
“Oh, don’t take us back,” we cried, for though the appearance of our companion was not calculated to inspire confidence, we knew that we should be severely punished if we were taken back to the workhouse, and that the chance of getting to sea would be farther off from us than ever.
“Stow that,” he said. “First and foremost, how old are ye, and what can ye do?”
“Please, sir, our names are Bill Seaman and Sam Hawse, and we can do shoemaking and carpentering, and we’re fourteen.”
“A snab and a chips. Which is which? Now, one at a time. Seaman, what are you?”
“I’ve learned shoemaking, sir.”
“And you, Hawse, are a carpenter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you seems likely, and I’ll keep you a day or two. Come along with me,” and opening a door he went into a long room, at one end of which was a sort of stage, where a man was roaring out a song to the accompaniment of an old fiddler, and which was full of sailors drinking and smoking and eating.
In one corner of this room was a narrow staircase, up which our conductor took us, and after passing through rooms full of beds, up other flights of stairs, and along passages, we came at last to a small den or cupboard, whose sloping ceiling told us it was close under the roof. Here the man with the red waistcoat told us we could sleep, and giving us a blanket to wrap ourselves in, shut and locked the door, leaving us in the dark.
Bill and I were too frightened to say much, so we rolled ourselves up in the blanket as best we might, and tried to sleep.
Next day we feared we had been forgotten, for we heard all sorts of noises below us, but no one came near us, and we began to think we had done a very foolish thing in running away, as in the workhouse, though the food was not always to our taste, still there was enough, and it came at regular hours.
We tried to attract attention by hammering at the door and shouting, and when that was of no avail we tried to find some means of getting out; but we could not find any, for the whole of the place was carefully boarded.
At last we heard voices and footsteps outside, and the man with the red waistcoat opened the door and said to some one who accompanied him: “There, you can lie hid there till she’s sailed; it’s the snuggest stow in the place. Why,” said he in astonishment, “there’s them two kids. Blow my eyes, I’d forgotten them. D’ye think your old man would give anything for them?”
The newcomer, who was a sailor of a somewhat forbidding aspect, said, “I shouldn’t wonder; boys is useful. He might give a sov. or two for the pair, and what with kit and advances, as he calls it, make ’em work the v’yge for nought.”
“That’ll do; when d’ye say the Golden Fleece sails?”
“Why, she’s hauled out of dock, and sails next tide.”
“But won’t he wait for hands? How many of you have run?”
“Some half-dozen.”
“So that’s it; I can give him the men and these boys too.”
“Don’t give me up.”
“No, you dunderhead; you’re worth more ashore than afloat. How many advance notes have you cashed in a month?”
“Five.”
“Well, that does me well enough.”
The newcomer took our place in the cupboard, but he was supplied with food and drink and a light, which had not been granted to us; and the man with the red waistcoat told us to follow him.
I said, “Please, sir, give us something to eat.”
“Bless me, you must be hungry,” he said. “I’d clean forgotten you. Now come along, and you shall have a blow-out.”
We followed the man down to a sort of kitchen in a cellar, where three or four women were at work, and he told them to give us something to eat.
A tin dish full of broken victuals was given to us, and we were told to sit in a corner and eat it.
Whilst we were doing so, the women occasionally came and laughed at us for the way we devoured our food; but seeing how hungry we were, when the first dishful was finished they gave us more.
At last our hunger was appeased; and then we were made to help as best we could these women, who told us they were the cooks of the place, which was one of the largest seamen’s lodging-houses in the place, and was kept by the man in the red waistcoat, whose name was Crump.
In the kitchen we passed the day, but about dusk we were sent for to Mr. Crump’s sanctum, where we found him and a decently-dressed, sailor-like man whom he called Captain Haxell, but whose face looked like some bird of prey, his eyes were so sharp and dark and his nose so hooked and pointed.
“There are the lads now, captain,” said Mr. Crump, as the kitchen wenches had told us to call him, “and I think you’ll find them smart and handy.”
“Stand up, and let’s see you,” said the captain. “So you wish to go to sea? Where are your friends? Got none, d’ye say? Stow that. Now, your names.”
We told him our names, and he answered, “Pursers’ names both, you young rascals; but, come now, I admire spirit in lads, and though there’s some risk, I’ll take you as ’prentices.—Got any ’prentice forms, Crump?”
“Yes, captain,” answered that worthy, and produced two sheets of paper on which was some writing, which Captain Haxell told us to sign, and which he put in his pocket.
After this Crump took us to another room, where were sailors’ slops of all kinds, and gave us each a blue shirt and trousers, cap, and jacket.
We put them on, and asked for the shirts and trousers we took off to be sent back to the workhouse, as it would not be honest to keep them.
Mr. Crump gave a grin, and said our wishes should be attended, which made us very happy, for the idea of stealing even the shirts and trousers had been weighing heavy on our mind; but I am now afraid that the workhouse authorities never saw those trousers or shirts again.
Captain Haxell, when we returned, said, “Ah! that’s the style, my young sailors.—Now, Mr. Crump, how about the men?”
“All right, captain; I’ve them handy, and a wagon to take them and their chests down, and the lads too.”
Mr. Crump went out, and soon a certain amount of noise was heard in the passage outside the little den where we were, as if heavy things were being carried along, and then when it was quiet again Mr. Crump came in and said, “All ready, captain. Now, pay me.”
“Oh, I’ll pay you on board; come along of me.”
“No, I’m too old a bird for that; I’m not going to be paid with the fore-topsail. Pay down here, or not a soul leaves.”
Captain Haxell tried persuasion, and said he had left all his money aboard, and to go to the ship and come back would cause him to lose a tide.
“Can’t help that,” said Crump. “Pay or leave; them’s my words.”
At last, seeing that Mr. Crump was obdurate, Captain Haxell took a pocket-book out of his breast-pocket, and handed over some banknotes.
“There, that’s right—honest seaman and no fraud,” said Crump. “Now have a glass before you start,” and, suiting the action to the word, he filled a couple of tumblers from a bottle that stood on the table.
The two worthies drank together, and then Captain Haxell, telling us to follow him, left the room and went to a sort of yard, where a covered wagon with a horse ready harnessed to it was waiting.
“Tumble in,” said our captain, for so we now must call him, and accordingly we clambered up into the hind part, and found it lumbered with sea-chests and drunken or drugged men; while Captain Haxell, mounting the box, told the driver to go to the water-side.
Here we found a boat waiting, into which we had to get, and to assist in placing the men and other contents of the wagon in her.
The boat pulled off to a ship lying some little distance out with her topsails loosed, and when we arrived alongside men and chests were hoisted in, and we scrambled up as well as we could.
Captain Haxell, as soon as the boat was clear, called to the mate to hoist the topsails, brace the yards abox, and weigh.
The orders and the noise seemed confusing enough to both Bill and me, and we were shoved and hustled about, and blamed for being useless, and also for being in the way; but at last the ship was under way, and we were standing off the land with all sails set.