Ran Away To Sea

CHAPTER ONE.

I was just sixteen when I ran away to sea.

I did not do so because I had been treated unkindly at home. On the
contrary, I left behind me a fond and indulgent father, a kind and
gentle mother, sisters and brothers who loved me, and who lamented for
me long after I was gone.

But no one had more cause to regret this act of filial disobedience than
I myself. I soon repented of what I had done, and often, in after life,
did it give me pain, when I reflected upon the pain I had caused to my
kindred and friends.

From my earliest years I had a longing for the sea--perhaps not so much
to be a sailor, as to travel over the great ocean, and behold its
wonders. This longing seemed to be part of my nature, for my parents
gave no encouragement to such a disposition. On the contrary, they did
all in their power to beget within me a dislike for a sea life, as my
father had designed for me a far different profession. But the counsels
of my father, and the entreaties of my mother all proved unavailing.
Indeed--and I feel shame in acknowledging it--they produced an effect
directly opposite to that which was intended; and, instead of lessening
my inclination to wander abroad, they only rendered me more eager to
carry out that design! It is often so with obstinate natures, and I
fear that, when a boy, mine was too much of this character. Most to
desire that which is most forbidden, is a common failing of mankind; and
in doing this, I was perhaps not so unlike others.

Certain it is, that the thing which my parents least desired me to feel
an interest in--the great salt sea--was the very object upon which my
mind constantly dwelt--the object of all my longings and aspirations.

I cannot tell what first imbued me with a liking for the sea, for I had
such a liking almost from the years of childhood. I was born upon the
sea-shore, and this fact might explain it; for, during my early life,
when I was still but a mere child, I used to sit at the window and look
with admiring eyes on the boats with their white sails, and the
beautiful ships with their tall tapering masts, that were constantly
passing and repassing. How could I do otherwise than admire these grand
and glorious structures--so strong and so graceful? How could it be
otherwise, than that I should imbibe a longing to be on board of them,
and be carried afar over yonder bright blue water?

As I grew older, certain books had chanced to fall into my hands, and
these related to the sea--they told of lovely lands that lay upon its
shores--of strange races of men and animals--of singular plants and
trees--of palms and broad-leaved figs--of the banyan and the baobab--of
many things beautiful and wonderful. These books strengthened the
inclination I already felt to wander abroad over the ocean.