I formed the resolution, therefore, to abide in my mother’s—soon to be Mr Leary’s—house, until circumstances should force me to leave it; and that such circumstances would ere long arise, I had a painful presentiment. As will be found in the sequel, my presentiment was too faithfully fulfilled.
Volume One—Chapter Two.
A Sudden Change of Character.
Never have I witnessed a change so great and sudden as came over Mr Leary, after his marriage with my mother.
He was no longer the humble journeyman—with the deportment of a respectable young fellow striving to retain a situation, and gain friends by good conduct. The very day after the wedding, his behaviour was that of a vain selfish overbearing plebeian, suddenly raised from poverty to wealth. He no longer spoke to me in his former feigned tone of kindness, but with threats, in a commanding voice, and in accents far more authoritative, than my father had ever used to me.
Mr Leary had been hitherto industrious, but was so no longer. He commenced, by employing another man to work in the shop with me, and plainly expressed by his actions that his share in the business was to be the spending of the money we might earn.
Up to that time, he had passed among his acquaintances as a temperate man; but in less than three weeks after his marriage, he came home drunk on as many occasions; and each time spoke to my mother in an insulting and cruel manner.
I took no trouble to conceal from Mr Leary my opinion of him and his conduct; and it soon became evident to all, that he and I could not remain long as members of the same family.
Our difficulties and misunderstandings increased, until Mr Leary declared that I was an ungrateful wretch—unworthy of his care; that he could do nothing with me; and that I should remain no longer in his house!
He held a long consultation with my mother, about what was to be done with me—the result of which was, that I was to be sent to sea. I know not what arguments he used; but they were effectual with my mother, for she gave consent to his plans, and I was shortly after bound apprentice to Captain John Brannon, of the ship “Hope,” trading between Dublin and New Orleans.
“The sea is the place for you, my lad,” said Mr Leary, after the indenture had been signed, binding me to Captain Brannon. “Aboard of a ship, you will learn to conduct yourself in a proper manner, and treat your superiors with respect. You are going to a school, where you will be taught something—whether you are willing to learn it, or not.”
Mr Leary thought, by sending me to sea, he was obtaining some revenge for my ill-will towards him; but he was mistaken. Had he known what pleasure the arrangement gave me, he would, perhaps, have tried to retain me a little longer working in the shop. As I had already resolved to leave home, I was only too glad at being thus sent away—instead of having the responsibility of an indiscretion resting on myself. I had but one cause for regret, and that was leaving my mother, brother, and sister, to the tender mercies of a man like Mr Leary.
But what was I to do? I was not yet fourteen years of age, and could not have protected them from him by staying at home. The hatred between us was mutual; and, perhaps, when his spite was no longer provoked by my presence, he might treat the rest of the family better. This was the only thought that consoled me on parting with my relatives.
I could do nothing but yield to circumstances, leave them to their destiny, whatever that was to be, and go forth upon the world in search of my own.
My brother bore our father’s name, William Stone. He was a fair-haired, blue-eyed boy, with a mild, gentle disposition, and was liked by everyone who knew him. He never did an action contrary to the expressed wishes of those who had any authority over him; and, unlike myself, he was always to be found when wanted. He never tried to shirk his work, or absent himself from school.
My little sister, Martha, was a beautiful child, with curly flaxen hair, and I never gazed on anything more beautiful than her large deep blue eyes, which seemed to express all the mental attributes of an angel.
It pained me much to leave little Martha—more than parting either with my mother or brother.
My mother wished to furnish me with a good outfit, but was prevented from doing so by Mr Leary—who said that he could not afford the expense. He declared, moreover, that I did not deserve it.
After my box was sent aboard the ship, and I was ready to follow it, little Willie and Martha were loud in their grief, and I had to tear myself away from their presence.
When it came to parting with my mother, she threw her arms around me, and exclaimed, “My poor boy, you shall not leave me!”
Mr Leary gave her a glance out of his sinister eyes, which had the effect of suddenly subduing this expression of grief, and “we parted in silence and tears.”
Often, and for hours, have I thought of that parting scene, and wondered why and how Mr Leary had obtained so great an influence over the mind of my poor mother.
I once believed that she had a will of her own, with the courage to show it—an opinion that had been formed from observations made during the life of my father, but since her marriage with Mr Leary, she seemed afraid of giving utterance to a word, that might express independence, and allowed him, not only to speak but think for her.
I knew that she had much affection for all of us, her children—and her regret at thus sending me, at so early an age to encounter the hardships of a long voyage must have been deep and sincere.
I know that her heart was nearly breaking at that moment. The expression of her features, and the manner in which she wrung my hand, told me so; and yet the passion of my grief was not equal in power to that of her fear for the frowns of Mr Leary.
My amiable step-father accompanied me to the ship, which was lying in Dublin Bay; and on our way thither, he became much excited with drink. He was so elated with whiskey, and with the idea that I was going away, that he did not speak to me in his usual unpleasant tone. On the contrary, he seemed all kindness, until we had got aboard the ship.
“Now my little ‘Rolling Stone,’” said he, when about to take leave of me, “you are going to have plenty of rolling now, and may you roll so far away, as never to roll across my path again.”
He appeared to think this was very witty, for he was much amused at what he had said, and laughed long and loudly.
I made no reply, until he was in the boat, which was about to shove off from the ship, when, looking over the bulwarks, I called after him.
“Mr Leary! if you ill-use my mother, brother, or sister, in my absence, I will certainly kill you when I come back.”
Mr Leary made no reply, further than to answer me with a smile, that a hyena might have envied.
Volume One—Chapter Three.
Stormy Jack.
There have been so many stories told of the sufferings of boys, when first sent to sea, that I shall not dwell long on those that befell myself.
What a world to me was that ship! I little knew, before it became my home, how many great men there