My father at the time kept an inn called the “Jolly Waggoner,” just out of the town, on the Caister Road, and as it was early spring, the various caravans were moving from their winter quarters, and their owners painting and gilding up their properties ready for the round of the fairs, which in Norfolk commence in the spring and run right through the months, till Christmas and heavy snows put a stop to them for the year. At the side of the “Jolly Waggoner” was a large piece of spare ground, upon which might frequently be seen four or five caravans being repaired and painted; my father uniting in his own person the businesses of painter, publican, carpenter, and smith; so that with one thing and another he made a very fair living in a quiet way. Well, a couple of days before _The Ladybird_ was to sail with a general cargo to the Faroe Isles, the skipper, towards evening, came down to my father’s house to settle about my premium money, and to give me an opportunity of signing my indentures. Captain Cooper, that was his name, was a jolly, genial man, full of fun and merriment, and had the name for being a most able seaman; and as he was part owner of the vessel, my father had no doubt that I should be in good and safe hands. They were old schoolmates and life-long friends, so, as Captain Cooper remarked, it would only be leaving one father on shore to serve under another at sea--a kind of nautical foster-father. I was delighted when the indenture was pushed across the table to receive my signature, and though I made a big blot to start with, I afterwards signed my name very well, which was more than I could say for either of my two fathers, for their hands were so stiff, and the pen so scratchy, that they made very laborious work of it. The captain wrote his name as much with his jaws as with his pen, for sticking his tongue into his cheek, he elongated and rolled his lower jaw in a most curious manner, apparently forming each letter with the tip of his tongue on the inside of his cheek, and then simultaneously scrawling in the same slow manner with the quill pen on the parchment before him. My father signed with a big cross, so his task was soon over, but still not before he had made the pen give a big splutter, just as a sea-rocket does when it touches the water, and the ink flew in spray from bottom to top of the important document. By the time the witnesses had signed their names, and spattered their share of ink over the indenture, the whole thing was highly decorated, and looked for all the world like a map of some large city, showing by black dots the positions of the various places of interest. After such a Herculean task, much refreshment was required, supplied, and in due course consumed.