tle, in front of the respective bunks, and
covered nearly the whole space of the floor. The floor itself did not
leave room for me to lie down--besides it was often wet by dirty water
being spilled upon it, or from the daily "swabbing" it usually received.
The only place I could rest--with some slight chance of being left
undisturbed--was in some corner upon the deck; but there it was at times
so cold I could not endure it, for I had no blanket--no covering but my
scanty clothes; and these were nearly always wet from washing the decks
and the scud of the sea. The cold compelled me to seek shelter below,
where if I stretched my weary limbs along the lid of a chest, and closed
my eyes in sleep, I was sure to be aroused by its surly owner, who would
push me rudely to the floor, and sometimes send me out of the forecastle
altogether.

Add to this that I was almost constantly kept at work--by night as by
day. I may say there was no drudgery--no "dirty work"--that was not
mine. I was not only slave to captain, mates, and carpenter, but every
man of the crew esteemed himself my master. Even "Snowball" in the
"caboose"--as the cook was jocularly termed--ordered me about with a
fierce exultation, that he had one white skin that he could command!

I was boot-black for the captain, mates, and carpenter, bottle-washer
for the cook, and chamber-boy for the men--for it was mine to swab out
the forecastle, and wait upon the sailors generally.

Oh! it was a terrible life. I was well punished for my one act of
filial disobedience--well rewarded for my aspirations and longings for
the sea. But it is just the role that many a poor sailor boy has to
play--more especially if like me he has run away to sea.

CHAPTER THREE.

For many long days and nights I endured this terrible oppression without
complaining--not but that I could have complained and would, but to what
purpose? and to whom? There was none to whom I might appeal--no one to
listen to my tale of woe. All hands were equally indifferent to my
sufferings, or at least seemed so, since no one offered either to take
my part, or say a word in my favour.

At length, however, an incident occurred which seemed to make me in some
measures the protege of one of the sailors, who, though he could not
shield me from the brutalities of the captain or mate, was at least able
to protect me from the indignities I had hitherto suffered at the hands
of the common men.

This sailo