At length a mortal sickness attacked the poor widow, and Jack was left an orphan, houseless and hungry, to druggie with the hard world. The furniture and clothes his mother possessed were seized for rent, and he was carried off to become an inmate of the workhouse. He knew not where he was going, but he thought the people very harsh and unkind. He was let out the next day to follow a coffin to a pauper's grave. They told him his mother slept beneath that low green mound. When far, far away over the blue ocean, often would his memory fly back to that one solitary spot, to him the oasis in life's wilderness. No relation, no friend had he. A pauper he lived for many a day, picking oakum and wishing to be free. That workhouse had a master, a stern, hard man. An old companion, captain of an African trader, came to see him. As they sipped their brandy and water--"I want a boy or two aboard there," said Captain Gullbeak, "one o' mine fell overboard last week and was drownded." "You may have as many on 'em as you like, perwided you takes care they none on 'em come back again on the parish. The guardians don't approve of that ere joke." "Not much fear of that, I guess," replied the captain with a grin; "they has a knack of dying uncommon fast out there in Africa. It's only old hands like me can stand it do ye see." So it was settled that little Jack was to be a sailor. Jack was asked if he would like to go to sea. Would a sky-lark in a cage like to be free? He knew also that his father was lost at sea, and he thought he might find him; so he said "Yes." The guardians were informed of the lad's strong desire to go to sea. His resolution was highly approved of, and leave was granted him to go. So under the tender care of Captain Gullbeak, of the _Tiger_ brig, poor Jack commenced his career as a seaman--in mind still a child, in stature a big lad. The only thing he regretted was being separated so far from his mother's grave. Away over the ocean glided the African trader. Hard had been Jack's life in the workhouse--much harder was it now. Every man's hand seemed against him. A cuff or a rope's end was his only reward for every service done his many masters. Occasionally in the workhouse he did hear prayers said and a discourse uttered, somewhat hard to understand, perhaps. Now, blaspheming, scoffing, and obscenity were in every sentence spoken by those around him. What words can describe the dark foul hole into which Jack had to creep at night to find rest from his grief in sleep. It was in the very head of the vessel. The ceaseless murmur of the waves was ever in his ears, and as the brig plunged into the seas the loud blows the received on her bows made his heart sink within him, and it was long before he could persuade himself that his last hour was not near at hand.