Chapter 15 - The Boy Tar by Mayne Reid
Running Away
It was near night when we arrived at the farm; and I took care during the remainder of the evening to act as naturally as if there was nothing unusual in my thoughts. Little dreamt my relatives and the domestics of the farmhouse—little dreamt they of the big design that lay hid within my bosom, and which at intervals, when I reflected upon it, caused my heart to heave again.
There were moments when I half repented of my purpose. When I looked upon the familiar faces of home—for after all it was home—the only home I had—when I reflected that I might never see those faces again; when I reflected that some of them might grieve for me—some I knew, would grieve—when I pondered upon the deception I was practising upon all of them, I in full possession of a design of which they knew nothing; I say when these thoughts were in my mind, I half repented of my purpose. I would have given the world for a confidant, while thus wavering; and no doubt, had I had one who would have advised me against going, I should have remained at home—at least, for that time—though, in the end, my wayward and aquatic nature would have carried me to sea all the same.
You will, no doubt, think it strange that under these circumstances I did not seek out Harry Blew, and take his advice. Ah! that is just what I should have done, had Harry been within reach, but he was not: the young waterman was a waterman no more. He had become tired of that sort of life months ago, had sold his boat, and gone off as a regular sailor before the mast. Perhaps if Harry Blew had been still at home, I should not have so much wished to go abroad; but from the time that he left, I longed every day to follow his example; and whenever I looked seaward over the bay, it was with a yearning that it would be impossible to explain. A prisoner, looking through the bars of his prison, could not have felt a greater longing to be free, than I to be away, far away, upon the bosom of the bright ocean. Had the young waterman only been there to counsel me, perhaps I might have acted differently; but he, my best friend, was gone.
And now I had no confidant to whom I might impart my secret. There was one young fellow, a farm-servant, whom I thought I might have trusted. I was fond of him, and I believe I was a favourite with him as well. Twenty times I had it on my tongue’s end to tell him of my intention, but as often I checked myself. I did not fear that he would betray me, provided I gave up my design of running away; but I fancied he would advise me against it, and in the event of my persisting, then he might betray me. It would be of no use, therefore, seeking counsel from him, and I kept the design to myself.
I ate my supper, and went to bed as usual.
You will expect to hear that I got out of bed, and stole away in the night.
Not so. I kept my bed till the usual hour for rising, though I slept scarce a wink. The thought of my important purpose kept me awake, and during the few snatches of sleep I had, I dreamt of big ships and rolling seas, of climbing up tall masts, and dragging black, tarry ropes, till my fingers were in blisters.
I had at first partly made up my mind to take my departure in the night, which I could easily have effected without danger of disturbing any one. There were no burglars in our quiet little village, nor had any been heard of for years, so that most people left their outside doors on the latch. The door of my uncle’s house was on that night particularly free of egress, for, it being summer, and the weather extremely hot, it had been left “on the jar.” I could have slipped out without causing it even to creak.
But though so very young, I was not without some powers of ratiocination; and I reasoned that if I ran away in the night, I should be missed at an early hour of the morning, and consequently sought for. The searchers, or some portion of them, would be pretty certain to follow me to the seaport town, and find me there as a matter of course. I should be in no better position than if I had given John the slip on the preceding day. Moreover, it was but five or six miles to the town—I should go over the ground in two hours at most—I should arrive too early, before the people of the ship would be stirring—the captain would be a-bed, and therefore I could not see him to offer myself as a volunteer in his service. These were the considerations that induced me to remain at home until morning, although I waited impatiently for the hour.
I ate my breakfast along with the rest. Some one observed that I looked pale and “out of sorts.” John attributed it to my journey of the preceding day, under the hot sun; and this explanation seemed to satisfy every one.
After breakfast I was afraid I should be ordered to some work—such as driving a horse, from which I might not easily get off—some one might be set to a task along with me, who might report me too soon if I should absent myself. Fortunately there was no work fit for me on that particular day, and I was not ordered about anything.
Taking advantage of this, I brought out my sloop, which I was occasionally in the habit of amusing myself with during hours of leisure. There were other boys who had sloops, and schooners, and brigs, and we used to have races over the pond in the park. It was Saturday. There was no school on Saturday, and I knew that some of these boys would repair to the pond as soon as they had breakfasted, if not sooner. This would be a capital excuse for my going there; and with the sloop ostentatiously carried I passed through the farmyard, and walked in the direction of the park. I even entered the enclosure, and proceeded to the pond, where, as I had conjectured, I found several of my companions with their little ships going, in full sail.
“Oh,” thought I, “if I were to declare my intentions! what a stir it would make if the boys only knew what I was about to do with myself?”
I was welcomed by the boys, who seemed glad to see me once more among them. The reason of this was, that of late I had been kept almost constantly at work, and found but few occasions when I could join them at play, and I believe I had formerly been a play favourite with most of them.
But I remained among them only during the time in which the fleet made one voyage across the lake—a miniature regatta, in which my own sloop was conqueror—and taking the little vessel under my arm, I bade them good-day, and left them.
They wondered at my going away so abruptly, but I found some excuse that satisfied them.
As I crossed the park wall, I glanced back upon the companions of my childhood, and the tears ran down my cheeks as I turned away from them for ever.
I crouched along the wall, and soon got into the high road that led from our village to the seaport town. I did not remain upon the road, but crossed it, and took into the fields on the opposite side. My object in doing this was to get under cover of some woods that ran for a good distance nearly parallel to the direction of the road. Through these I intended to travel, as far as they would screen me from observation; for I knew that if I kept on the road I should run the chance of being passed or met by some of the villagers, who would report having seen me, and thus guide the pursuit in the right direction. I could not guess at what hour the ship might weigh anchor, and therefore I could not make my time for absenting myself from the village. This had been the thought that troubled me all the morning. I feared to arrive too soon, lest the vessel might not sail until I should be missed, and people sent after me. On the other hand, I dreaded lest I might reach the port too late, and find the ship gone. This would have been a disappointment worse than to be taken back, and whipped for the attempt at running away—at least, so I should have considered it at the time. I say, then, that this was the thought that had annoyed me all the morning, and still continued to do so; for it no longer occurred to me that there was any danger of my being refused once I offered myself on the ship. I had even forgotten that I was so small a boy. The magnitude of my designs had magnified me, in my own estimation, to the dimensions of a man.
I reached the woods, and traversed them from end to end unseen. I met neither ranger nor gamekeeper. When I had passed through the timber, I took into some fields; but I was now at a good distance from the road, and I was less afraid of meeting any one who knew me. I could tell how far I was from the road, by keeping the sea in sight, for I knew that the former ran close to the beach.
The tall spires of the seaport town at length came in sight, and by these I was enabled to guide myself in the proper direction. After crossing a great many drains and ditches, and scrambling through numerous hedges—here and there making a bit upon private roads that ran in the right course—I arrived on the outskirts of the town. I made no pause there, but directing my steps among the houses, I soon found a street that led towards the quay. I saw the tall masts as I approached, and wildly beat my heart as my eyes rested upon the tallest of all, with its ensign drawn up to the main truck, and floating proudly in the breeze.
I took note of nothing more; but, hurrying forward, I scrambled over the broad plank staging; and having crossed the gangway, stood upon the deck of the Inca.