He stepped ashore, and walked with rapid strides up the wharf. I went forward, and seating myself on the windlass, burst into tears! It struck me as hard and unjust that I should be deprived of my well-earned wages, unless on condition of committing an unworthy act, at which my soul revolted. My decision, however, was taken. Although the loss of my money would have subjected me to inconvenience perhaps distress I resolved to submit to any ills which poverty might inflict, rather than comply with the wishes and advice of this unprincipled man, who should have acted towards me as a faithful monitor and guide. I remained in this disconsolate condition for about an hour, when Captain Turner returned on board. As he stepped leisurely over the gangway, he greeted me with a benignant smile, and beckoned me to the quarter deck. "Well, Hawser," said he in his blandest manner, as if he sought to atone for his coarse language and dishonorable conduct a short time before, "so you refuse to do as others do take a false oath? You are too sanctimonious by half, and you will find it out some day. You are an obstinate little fool, but may do as you like. Here is another paper; look over it, and see if it will suit you." I opened the paper; it was a true statement of my claim against the government for wages. In the course of the day, the ship's company proceeded in a body to the office of the government agent, swore to our several accounts, and received our money. The amount which fell to my share was not large. I purchased some clothes, paid a few trifling debts that I had contracted while subjected to the "law's delay," which Shakespeare, a keen observer of men and manners, classes among the most grievous of human ills, and had a few dollars left. After my experience of a sailor's life, after the treatment I had received, the miserable fare on which I had barely existed during a portion of the time, and the disgusting specimen of nautical morality I had met with in Captain Turner, it will not be considered surprising if my views of a sailor's life had been a little changed during my last voyage. I entertained some doubts whether "going to sea," instead of being all poetry and romance, was not rather a PROSY affair, after all; and I more than once asked myself if a young man, of correct deportment and industrious habits, who could find some good and respectable business on shore, would not be a consummate fool to "go to sea." I deliberated anxiously on the subject, and finally determined to return to my home in New Hampshire, and visit my friends before I undertook another voyage. The schooner Lydia, of Barnstable, commanded by Captain Burgess, an honest, noble-hearted son of Cape Cod, was the only vessel in Savannah at that time bound for Boston. I explained to him my situation, told him I was anxious to get home, and asked as a favor that he would allow me to work my passage to Boston.