Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 07
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 07
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"After my arrival in Greenock from my voyage to America," he
began--"that land of promise, where I had been carried as a Palantine--I
had no wages to receive; for I had wrought my passage home--that is,
given my labour for my food and room in the vessel, and was not entered
as one of the crew. A miserable passage it was; for the captain being as
complete a tyrant as ever walked a deck, the crew were ill-used, and, of
course, sulky and dissatisfied; and, humble and obedient as I was, the
bad humour of every one was put forth upon me. The little seamanship I
had been so eager to acquire in my voyage out, now stood me in great
stead, and saved me many a kick and blow. Rough and severe as my masters
were, my progress was rapid. Young and nimble as a monkey, with a quick
eye and good memory, I was no despicable seaman before we reached the
Cumbraes. Even the captain, after a severe squall we had off the west of
Ireland, commended me, saying, 'Square, you are worth your room and
victuals!' Yet of room I had little, and my victuals were no boast.
Hammock or bedding I had none; but that mattered not to me, who had no
rest. I was in no watch, but was called up or started with a rope's-end
at the pleasure of every one, when there was anything to do, from the
cable tier, or wherever I had stretched my weary limbs to snatch an
hour's sleep. Still I bore up with a cheerful heart; for hard lying and
scanty fare were nothing new to me, and I hoped soon to tread the shores
of my native land. Well, I had only two dollars and a-half in my pocket
when I left Greenock to walk to Auld Reekie. My step was as light as my
heart. Towards sunset of the second day, I reached the city; and, before
I thought of rest, I had visited all my former haunts. But a very few
days served to dissipate my pleasing dreams of home. I had, for years
before I left Edinburgh, been looked upon as one too many in the city by
those who knew me as a dependant; and doubtless, when I disappeared,
they had felt relieved of a load they bore but lightly. I had returned
as poor as I departed; and they looked upon me with frowns, upbraiding
me with folly for my return from a place where I had a chance of
succeeding.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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