Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone

“I was going to say one place was as good as another, but it a’nt. This ship is no place for me. After we reach New Orleans I shall leave it, and if ever I come across eyther the first breezer, or carpenter, ashore, they’ll both larn what they never knew afore, and that’s manners. When two men are fighting, another has no right to interrupt either of ’em with a blow of a mallet, and the man who does so has no manners, and wants teachin’.”

I was pleased to hear Stormy say that he intended to leave the ship, for the idea of doing so myself had often entered my thoughts, and had been favourably entertained.

I had no great hopes of finding a better home than I had on board the ship, but I had been placed there by Leary, and that was sufficient reason for my wishing to leave her. He had driven me from my own home, and I would not live in one of his choosing.

I resolved, therefore, to take leave of the ship if Stormy would allow me to become his companion, and even if he should not, I had more than half determined upon running away.

Volume One – Chapter Four.

A Change of Calling

Two days before we reached New Orleans, Stormy Jack expressed some sham contrition for what he had done, with an inclination to return to his duty. He was liberated, and once more the deck was enlivened by the sound of his rough manly voice giving the necessary orders for working the ship.

I found a favourable opportunity of telling him, that I should like to go along with him. At first he objected to aid me, and urged me to remain, as a reason for my doing so, urging the argument: that a boy serving his apprenticeship was much better off than one wandering about without a home.

To me this argument was worth nothing. The idea of remaining for seven years in a situation chosen for me by Mr Leary, was too absurd to be seriously entertained for a moment. I told Stormy so; and he finally consented that I should go with him.

“My reason for objecting at first,” said he, “was because I did not like to be troubled with you; but that’s not exactly the right sort o’ feeling for a Christian to steer by. One should expect to have some trouble with those as need a helping hand, and I don’t know why I should try to shirk from my share of it.”

I promised Stormy that I would try not to cause him any trouble, or as little as possible.

“Of course you will try,” said he, “or if you don’t, I’ll teach you manners.”

Stormy’s threat did not alarm me; and our conversation at the time ended – leaving me well pleased with the prospect of getting clear of the ship, by his assistance.

Stormy’s return to duty was only a pretence. It was done to deceive the officers – so that he might the more easily find an opportunity of escaping from the ship.

Two days after our arrival in the port of New Orleans, he was allowed liberty to go ashore; and I was permitted to accompany him. The Captain probably supposed that the wages due to Stormy would bring him back; and the suspicion, that a boy like myself should wish to leave the ship, had never entered into his mind.

Several of our shipmates went ashore along with us; and the first thing we all thought of was, what the reader will readily imagine, to find a place where strong drink was sold. This is usually a sailor’s first thought on going ashore after a voyage.

After having taken two or three glasses with our shipmates, Stormy gave me a wink, and sidled towards the door. I followed him; and slipping unperceived into the street, we turned a corner, and kept on through several streets – until we had arrived at another part of the city. The little that Stormy had drunk had by this time only sharpened his appetite for more.

“Here I am,” said he, “with clear twelve shillings in my pocket. What a spell of fun I could have, if ’twas not for you! Seven weeks without a spree, and now can’t have it because I’ve you to take care of. Thought ’twould be so. Rowley, my boy! see what I’m suffering for you. You are teaching me manners, whether I’m willing to larn ’em or not.”

I allowed the sailor to go on uninterrupted with his storm of complaints, although there was a reflection in my mind, that if I was keeping him from getting drunk, the obligation was not all on my side.

Stormy had but twelve shillings, and I half-a-crown, which the Captain had given to me before coming ashore.

It was necessary that something should be done, before this money should be all spent.

Under ordinary circumstances, the sailor need not have felt any apprehension, about being out of money. He could easily get employment in another vessel; but as matters stood, Stormy was afraid of being caught, should he attempt to join another ship – before that from which he had deserted had taken her departure from the port. If caught, Stormy knew he would be punished; and this rendered him a trifle serious.

The next day we passed in wandering about the city – taking care to avoid all places where we would be likely to meet with any of the officers, or men of the ship “Hope.”

Stormy’s thoughts were all day in a fearful storm, commingled with anxiety as to what we should do to make a living.

“On your account, Rowley,” said he, “I’m not misinclined for a spell on shore, if I could find anything to do, but that’s the trouble. There’s not much work ashore, that be proper for an honest man to bear a hand in. What little of such work there is here, is done by darkies, while white men do all the cheating and scheming. Howsomever, lad, we must try to get at something.”

The next day Stormy did try; and obtained work at rigging a new ship, that had just been launched. The job would last for a month. The wages were good; and the storm in Stormy’s mind had now subsided into an agreeable calm.

We sought a cheap lodging-house, not far from where his work was to be performed; and that evening the sailor indulged in a pipe and a glass, from which he had prudently refrained during all the day.

I was unwilling that the burden of supporting me should be borne by my generous protector; and being anxious to do something for myself, I asked him what I should go about.

“I’ve just been thinking of that,” said he, “and I believe I’ve hit upon an idea. Suppose you sell newspapers? I see many lads about your age in that business here; and they must make something at it. It’s not hard work, besides it appears to be very respectable. It is a lit’rary business, as no boy should be ’shamed of.”

I approved of the plan, and joyfully agreed to give it a trial.

It was arranged that the next morning I should go to the office of a daily paper – buy a bundle of copies; and try to dispose of them at a profit.

Early the next morning, Stormy started off to his work on the ship, and I to a newspaper office.

I reached the place too early to get out the papers; but found several boys waiting like myself. I joined their company, listened to them, and was much interested in their conversation, without very clearly comprehending what they were talking about.

I could distinctly hear every word they said; but the meaning of the words I knew not, for the most of them were slang phrases – such as I had never heard before.

I could see that they were very fast boys – much faster than I was – although the “Rolling Stone” had not been for several years rolling through the streets of Dublin, without learning some city sharpness.

I entered into conversation with two of the boys, in order to find out something of the business of news-vending; and could see from their manner that they regarded me, as they would have said, “not all thar.”

They pretended to give me such information as I required; but I afterwards learnt that they had not told me one word of truth.

When the papers were published, I went in with the others, put down a half dollar, and received in exchange the correct number of copies. I hurried out, walked some distance from the office, and commenced offering my wares for sale.

On turning down a wide street, I met three gentlemen, each of whom took a copy out of my hands and gave me a picayune in return.

I was doing business for myself – buying and selling; and in my soul arose a feeling of independence and pride that has never been so thoroughly awakened since.

I passed along the street, till I came to a large hotel, where I saw two other gentlemen under the verandah.

I went up to them, offered my goods as before, and each took a newspaper. As one of them offered me payment for his copy, I had hardly the strength to hand him the paper and take his money. I nearly dropped to the pavement. The man was Captain Brannon, of the ship “Hope,” to whom I had been apprenticed!

I moved away from him as fast as my trembling limbs would carry me; and the glance which I could not help throwing over my shoulder, told me that I had not been recognised.

This was the man, who had promised to treat me as he would his own son; and yet during a long voyage had taken so little notice of me, that I could thus transact business with him, without being recognised!

By twelve o’clock my work for the day was finished; and I returned to the lodging-house with a dollar in picayune pieces – having made a hundred per cent on my capital.

I was at that hour the happiest boy in New Orleans.

I was happy, yet full of impatience, as I waited through the long afternoon for the return of Stormy Jack.

There was pride and pleasure in the anticipation of his approval of my exertions, when I should show him the money I had made. It was the first money I had ever earned – my only transactions with the circulating medium before that time, having been to spend it, as fast as it could be obtained from a fond father.

I entered into an elaborate calculation by an arithmetical rule I had learned under the name of “reduction,” and found that I had made in one day, by my own exertions, over two shillings of English money.

I had pride – pride in my ability to make money at all, and pride in my scholastic acquirements, which enabled one so young to tell how much had been gained, for I was not able to comprehend fully the amount, until I had brought it into shillings and pence.

With burning impatience I waited for the return of Stormy. Being fatigued, however, I fell asleep, and dreamt of having made a fortune, and of having had a fight with Mr Leary, in which that gentleman – to make use of Stormy’s favourite expression – had been “taught some manners.”

When I awoke, I looked eagerly at a clock. It was past seven in the evening, and Stormy Jack had not returned!

He had been due more than an hour. The happiness I had been all day indulging in, suddenly forsook me; and a sickening sensation of loneliness came over my soul.

I sat up waiting and watching for him until a very late hour – in fact until I was driven to bed by the landlady; but Stormy did not return.

Volume One – Chapter Five.

God Help Us!

No week of my life ever seemed so long, as that night spent in waiting for the return of Stormy Jack. It was not until the sun beams were gushing through my window in the morning, that I was able to fall asleep.

By nine o’clock I was up, and out upon the streets in search of my companion and protector. My search was continued all day without success.

I did not know the name of the ship on which he had gone to work; and therefore I had no clue to his whereabouts. In fact I had such a slight clue to guide me, that my search was but little less than the pursuit of folly.

I did not like to believe that Stormy had wilfully deserted me.

In my lone and friendless condition, with the memory of the way in which I had left my mother, to have thought so, would have made me desirous of dying. I had rather think that some serious accident had happened him, than that he had abandoned me to my fate, to avoid any further trouble I might give him.

Another idea occurred to me. He might have been found by some of the officers of the “Hope,” and either taken aboard, or imprisoned for deserting. This was so probable, that for awhile I was tempted to go back to the ship and resume my duties.

Reflection told me, that if he had fallen into the hands of the captain, he would not leave me alone in a city like New Orleans. He would tell the captain where I was staying, and have me sent for and brought aboard.

The only, or what seemed the best thing I could do, was to return to the lodging-house, and there await the event.

After a long weary day spent in vain search for my lost companion, I carried this idea into effect, and went back to the lodging-house. As I anticipated, Stormy had not returned to it.

The landlady was a woman of business; and fancied, or rather believed, that my responsible protector had deserted me, leaving her with a boy to keep, and a bill unpaid.

She asked me if I had any money. In reply, I produced all I had. All but one “picayune” of it was required, for the payment of the score we had already run up.

“Now, my lad,” said she, “you had better try to find some employment, where you will earn a living. You are welcome to stay here to-night, and have your breakfast in the morning. You will then have all day to-morrow to find another home.”

The next morning, after I had swallowed my breakfast, she came to me and bid me an affectionate “good bye.” It was a broad hint that she neither expected, nor wished me to stay in her house any longer.

I took the hint, walked out into the street, and found myself in a crowd, but alone, with the great new world before me.

“What shall I do?” was the question set before a full committee of my mental faculties, assembled, or awakened, to deliberate on the emergency of the moment.

I could be a newsvendor no longer: for the want of capital to invest in the business.

I could return to the ship, and perhaps get flogged for having run away; but I was so disappointed in the treatment I had received at the hands of the captain, that nothing but extreme suffering could have induced me to seek protection from him.

The restraint to which I had been subjected on board the ship, seemed partly to have emanated from Mr Leary, and for that reason was to me all the more disagreeable.

I wandered about the streets, reflecting on what I should do until both my brain and legs became weary.

I sat down on some steps leading to the door of a restaurant. My young heart was still strong, but beating wildly.

Over the door of a grocer’s shop in front of me, and on the opposite side of the street, I read the name “John Sullivan.” At sight of this familiar name, a glimmering of hope entered into my despairing mind.

Four years previous to that time, the grocer with whom my parents used to deal had emigrated to America. His name was John Sullivan. Was it possible that the shop and the name before me belonged to this man?

I arose, and crossed the street. I entered the shop, and inquired of a young man behind the counter, if Mr Sullivan was at home.

“He’s up stairs,” said the youth. “Do you wish to see him in particular?”

I answered in the affirmative; and Mr Sullivan was called down.

The man I hoped to meet was, when I saw him last, a little man with red hair; but the individual who answered the summons of the shop boy, was a man about six feet in his stockings, with dark hair and a long black beard.

I saw at a glance, that the grocer who had emigrated from Dublin and the man before me were not identical, but entirely different individuals.

“Well, my lad, what do you want?” asked the tall proprietor of the shop, looking down on me with a glance of curious inquiry.

“Nothing,” I stammered out, perhaps more confused than I had ever been before.

“Then what have you had me called for?” he asked, in a tone that did little to aid me in overcoming my embarrassment.

After much hesitation and stammering, I explained to him that from seeing his name over the door, I had hoped to find a man of the same name, with whom I had been acquainted in Ireland, and who had emigrated to America.

“Ah!” said he, smiling ironically. “My father’s great-grandfather came over to America about two hundred and fifty years ago. His name was John Sullivan. Perhaps you mean him?”

I had nothing to say in answer to this last interrogation, and was turning to leave the shop.

“Stop my lad!” cried the grocer. “I don’t want to be at the trouble of having come downstairs for nothing. Supposing I was the John Sullivan you knew – what then?”

“Then you would tell me what I should do,” I answered, “for I have neither home, friends, nor money.”

In reply to this, the tall shopkeeper commenced submitting me to a sharp examination – putting his queries in a tone that seemed to infer the right to know all I had to communicate.

After obtaining from me the particulars relative to my arrival in the country, he gave me his advice in exchange. It was, to return instanter to the ship from which I had deserted.

I told him that this advice could not be favourably received, until I had been about three days without food.

My rejoinder appeared to cause a change in his disposition towards me.

“William!” said he, calling out to his shop-assistant, “can’t you find something for this lad to do for a few days?”

William “reckoned” that he could.

Mr Sullivan then returned upstairs; and I, taking it for granted that the thing was settled, hung up my hat.

The grocer had a family, living in rooms adjoining the shop. It consisted of his wife and two children – the eldest a girl about four years of age.

I was allowed to eat at the same table with themselves; and soon became well acquainted with, and I believe well liked by, them all. The little girl was an eccentric being, even for a child; and seldom said a word to anyone. Whenever she did speak, she was sure to make use of the phrase, “God help us!”

This expression she had learnt from an Irish servant wench, who was in the habit of making frequent use of it; and it was so often echoed by the little girl, in a parrot-like manner, that Mr Sullivan and his wife – at the time I joined the family were striving to break her from the habit of using it.

The servant girl, when forbidden by her mistress ever to use the expression in the child’s presence, would cry out: “God help us, Mem! I can’t help it.”

Whenever the words were spoken by little Sarah – this was the child’s name – Mrs Sullivan would say, “Sarah, don’t you ever say that again. If you do, you shall be locked up in the cellar.”

“God help us!” little Sarah would exclaim, in real alarm at the threat.

“There you go again. Take that, and that,” Mrs Sullivan would cry, giving the child two or three slaps on the side of the head.

“Oh mother! mother! God help us!” little Sarah would cry out, altogether unconscious of the crime she was committing.

Every effort made, for inducing the child to refrain from the use of this expression, only caused its more frequent repetition; and often in a manner so ludicrous, as to conquer the anger of her parents, and turn it into laughter.

When I had been about five weeks with Mr Sullivan, I was engaged one morning in washing the shop windows, and accidentally broke a large and costly pane of plate glass. A sudden shock came over my spirits – one more painful than I had ever experienced. Mr Sullivan had been so kind to me, that to do him an injury, accidentally or otherwise, seemed the greatest misfortune that could happen to me.

He was upstairs at the time; and I had not the moral courage to face him. Had I waited for him to come down, and see what had been done, he might have said something that would have pained me to hear; but certainly nothing more serious would have happened, and all would have been well again.

I must have a disposition constitutionally inclined to absconding. To run away, as my mother had often told me, must be my nature. I would rather believe this than otherwise, since I do not wish to be charged with the voluntary indiscretion of deserting a good home. It was only an overwhelming sense of the kindness with which I had been treated, and the injury I had inflicted on my benefactor, that caused me to dread an encounter with Mr Sullivan.

Perhaps a boy with a smaller sense of gratitude and less sensitiveness of soul, would have acted differently; and yet would have acted right: for it is always better to meet a difficulty boldly, than to flee in a cowardly manner from the responsibilities attending it.

Little Sarah Sullivan happened to be in the shop at the time I broke the window. I heard her exclaim, “God help us!”

I did not stay to hear any more: for in six seconds after, I had turned the nearest corner; and was once more homeless in the streets of New Orleans.

Volume One – Chapter Six.

Once More upon the Ocean!

I did not dislike a sea life; and would not have been dissatisfied with any situation on a ship, providing it had not been procured for me by Mr Leary.

On running away from Mr Sullivan’s shop, my inclination was to leave New Orleans in some ship; but, unfortunately, I knew not the proper manner of going to work to accomplish my desires.

I walked along the levee, till I reached a ship, that was just being hauled from the wharf – evidently for the purpose of standing down the river and out to sea.

I stepped aboard intending to apply for work; and after looking around for a while, I observed a man who, to all appearance, was the captain.

When asked to give me some situation in the ship, he appeared too busy to pay any attention to my request.

I was on a vessel proceeding to sea; and, knowing my ability to make myself useful, I determined not to go ashore without a hearing.

I walked forward; and amidst the confusion of getting the ship under way – where there was so much to be done – I found work enough to do; and took much care, while doing it, to keep out of the way of others – which, to a boy aboard of a ship, is a task of some difficulty.

No one seemed to take any notice of me that afternoon or evening; and about nine o’clock at night I laid down under the long boat, fell asleep, and slept till morning.

I turned out at the earliest hour, and lent a hand at washing the decks; but still no one seemed to know, that I was not one of the ship’s company!

At eight o’clock the crew were mustered, and divided into watches. My name was not called: and the captain observing the circumstance, requested me to walk aft.

“Who are you?” asked he, as I drew near.

Something whispered me not to undervalue myself, but to speak up with confidence; and in answer to his demand, I told him that I was a Rolling Stone.

“A Rolling Stone, are you?” said the captain. “Well, what have you rolled here for?”

“Because I wanted to go somewhere,” I answered.

He then asked me if I had ever been at sea; and, on learning the name of the ship I had deserted, he said that she had sailed the week before, or he would have sent me back to her.

He concluded his examination, by giving the steward orders to look after me – telling him that I could assist in the slop work to be done in the cabin.

To this arrangement I decidedly objected, declaring that I was a sailor, and would not be made a cuddy servant!

I have every reason to believe, that this declaration on my part elevated me several degrees in the captain’s good opinion.

He replied by expressing a hope, that I would not aspire to the command of the ship; and if not, he would see what could be done for me.

The vessel was bound for Liverpool with cotton; and was owned by the captain himself, whose name was Hyland.

I was never better treated in my life, than on board that ship.

I was not assigned to any particular occupation, or watch; but no advantage was taken of this circumstance, on the captain’s part, to make me do too much, or by me to do too little.

I was generally on deck all the day; and whenever I saw anything useful that I could do, it was done.

In this way, both watches had the aid of my valuable services – which, however, were not always sufficiently appreciated to prevent a few sharp words being applied to me. But a boy aboard of a ship soon learns to take no notice of such trifles.

I was ordered to mess with the sailmaker, who – as I afterwards learnt – was directed by the captain to look well after me.