United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Fiction
As the years rolled on their number decreased, but at the time of which
I write they were quite numerous, and in winter filled the jails and
poor-houses to over-flowing. Like ourselves, they had an aversion to
winter travel, but started out in the spring. You will remember that we
left home in the spring, and consequently were beginning our journeys
at the same time as these tramping idlers began theirs.
They pretended to be seeking work, but were careful never to find it.
In summer they wanted a job at shoveling snow, and in winter professed
to be hay-makers. People living along the highways had suffered much
from the beggary and depredation of this class of individuals, and
consequently it is more the wonder that our host so readily accepted
our story and gave us the hospitality of his house. It must have been
that the frank and honest faces of David and myself served as our
passports on that occasion.
We found Mr. Johnson's house without difficulty, were received at first
in the same suspicious manner as on the night before, and afterwards
with the same open-handed hospitality. In the morning we walked rapidly
into Boston, and, not knowing where to go, headed straight for the
water-front and the ships that lay there.
As we crossed the bridge from Charlestown to Boston, our curiosity was
roused at the sight of the vessels anchored in the harbor or lying at
the piers. We had never before seen a ship; the largest floating craft
of any kind that had ever greeted our eyes were the row-boats on the
Merrimac River, and the cargo-boats that plied occasionally between
the falls along that stream. Neither kind of craft was numerous, and
all were the merest pigmies compared with the vessels we saw after we
reached Boston.
As we stood looking at a ship at the head of one of the wharves, a man
came up and spoke to us. He asked who we were, and where we had come
from; to both of which questions we promptly replied. Then he said,--
"I suppose you've come to Boston to find a ship, haven't you?"
"Yes, sir." I answered; "that's what we've come for. Can you tell us of
a ship that is going to sea right away?"
"Yes, I can," he answered; "this ship right here, the Washington, is
going to sail just as soon as she can get a crew. How old are you?"
We told our ages, and added that we knew nothing about ships at all,
but thought we could learn.
"Oh, you'll learn quick enough," he answered, "there's no fear of that.
I'll go aboard with you, and see if the captain will take you along.
Come ahead, boys, this way, come along."
He started in the direction of the ship, which was tied up to the
wharf, and we followed. He led us up the gang-plank, and very quickly
we found ourselves standing on the deck of what seemed to us a colossal
craft.
"Stay here a minute," said our new-found friend, "while I find the
captain;" and away he went in search of that individual.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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