Marco had observed, all the morning, that when the coach canted to one side or the other, on account of the unevenness of the road, the sailor always started and looked anxious, as if afraid it was going to be upset. He wondered that a man who had been apparently accustomed to the terrible dangers of the seas, should be alarmed at the gentle oscillations of a stage-coach. "Are you afraid that we shall upset?" asked Marco. "Yes," said the sailor, "over some of these precipices and mountains; and then there'll be an end of us." The sailor said this in an easy and careless manner, as if, after all, he was not much concerned about the danger. Still, Marco was surprised that he should fear it at all. He was not aware how much the fears which people feel, are occasioned by the mere novelty of the danger which they incur. A stage-driver, who is calm and composed on his box, in a dark night, and upon dangerous roads, will be alarmed by the careening of a ship under a gentle breeze at sea,--while the sailor who laughs at a gale of wind on the ocean, is afraid to ride in a carriage on land. "An't you a sailor?" asked Marco. "Yes," replied his companion. "I shouldn't think that a man that had been used to the sea, would be afraid of upsetting in a coach." "I'm not a _man_" said the sailor. "What are you?" said Marco. "I'm a boy. I'm only nineteen years old; though I'm going to be rated seaman next voyage." "Have you just got back from a voyage?" asked Marco. "Yes," said the sailor. "I've been round the Horn in a whaler, from old Nantuck. And now I'm going home to see my mother." "How long since you've seen her?" asked Marco. "O, it's four years since I ran away." Here the sailor began to speak in rather a lower tone than he had done before, so that Marco only could hear. This was not difficult, as the other passengers were at this time engaged in conversation. "I ran away," continued the sailor, "and went to sea about four years ago." "What made you run away?" asked Marco. "O, I didn't want to stay at home and be abused. My father used to abuse me; but my mother took my part, and now I want to go and see her." "And to see your father too," said Marco. "No," said the sailor. "I don't care for him. I hope he's gone off somewhere. But I want to see my mother. I have got a shawl for her in my chest."