The propensity of young Clark to a sea-faring life remained ungratified until he was twenty years old. Much as he desired to see the world, and repulsive as was the conduct of his father to his sensitive feelings, John had no wish to run away clandestinely--to leave his affectionate mother and sisters, or to reject the monitions of his conscience. He patiently waited until the proper time should come; until he attained the period of manhood, and could go with his parent’s blessing. And then, even filial affection and true philanthropy, prevailed over a churlish and selfish temper, and prompted him to regard the welfare of his parents to his own personal interests. It was in the summer of 1778, in the twentieth year of his age, that John Clark embraced the opportunity of carrying into effect his darling purpose of life, by engaging in the transport service. But to this he was induced by higher motives than a selfish indulgence. His education had been completed, and he had spent some time copying in the town and county office of Inverness. To the close of his life he wrote in a style of uncommon neatness and accuracy. This employment furnished no income beyond ordinary expenses. The extravagance and dissipation of his father, had nearly reduced the family to want. The riches realized from their uncle Daniel’s estate, gained doubtless by fraud and extortion, from the Indians of Georgia, had made themselves wings and flown away.[2] The farm in Petty was left, but the income was barely sufficient for their support, and nothing can prosper under the management of an intemperate husband and father; and John piously and resolutely resolved to do his best in the business of his choice, to keep their heads above water. He embarked in the transport service, at low wages.[3] Finding, on his return, that his father’s extravagance was fast wasting away their means of support, and hoping to obtain in a more speedy way the means of relief, he went to Greenock and entered on board a privateer; and the voyage was so successful in capturing two valuable merchant vessels, that in less than a year he returned home with his wages and share of the prize money, amounting to more than $200. Of that business then regarded lawful and honorable in war, fifty years after, he writes thus: “This unchristian, inhuman, and almost piratical practice, was never permitted in Scotland before that war. But my moral feelings by this time began to be impaired, for my situation in life deprived me of the company of the godly, and ‘evil communications corrupt good manners.’[4] Although my conscience recoiled at doing that which I was not willing others should do to me, yet I made necessity my excuse, and pleaded the example of those who I then thought knew more and were better than I was.”