VENTURES ON THE ROAD.--WELCOMED AT HOME.--CONFESS MY LOVE FOR THE
LITTLE REBEL.--TOM'S GRIEF FOR HIS MOTHER'S DEATH.--HEAR OF CAPTAIN
COOK'S DEATH.--VISIT TO LONDON.--THE GORDON RIOTS.--ENCOUNTER WITH THE
MOB.--SAVE AN OLD GENTLEMAN IN HIS CARRIAGE.--GIVE HIM MY NAME.--WONDER
WHO HE CAN BE.--JOIN THE CHARON, CAPTAIN THOMAS SYMONDS.--SAIL FOR WEST
INDIES.

Seldom, I suspect, have two rough-looking subjects made their appearance
at an inn in the great City of London than Tom Rockets and I must have
seemed when we arrived there by the Deal heavy coach on the evening of
the 22nd of March, 1780. Our faces were of the colour of dark copper,
and our beards were as rough and thick as holly bushes, while Tom
sported a pig-tail and love-locks, which he flattered himself would
prove the admiration of all the belles in his native village. They, at
all events, drew forth not a few remarks from the little errand-boys in
the streets of London, as we heard such remarks as, "There go two sea
monsters!" "Where can those niggers have come from?" "Look there, at
that sailor man with a bit of a cable fastened on to his pole!" More
than once Tom turned to try and catch hold one of the little jackanapes,
but he was off so fast down some lane or other that even Tom could not
overtake him. I advised him to give up the attempt, and to take their
impertinence coolly. I kept Tom by me wherever I went, for I felt
pretty certain that, should I once lose sight of him, he might never
find his way back to me.

I cannot stop to describe all the sights we saw, and the places we
visited in the mighty metropolis. The town was talking a great deal of
a duel which had taken place the very morning of our arrival in Hyde
Park between Lord Shelbourne and Colonel Fullerton. The quarrel was
about some reflection which the latter gentleman had cast upon his
lordship. On the second shot the colonel hit Lord Shelbourne, who fell
to the ground, but the wound was not considered dangerous. I bethought
me of the duel I had fought when I was a boy, and that these two great
people were very little wiser than I was then.

As soon as we could get places in the old coach we started for Falmouth,
intending to visit the remainder of the sights on our way back to the
ship. Away we rumbled, one fine morning, on board the big coach, as Tom
called it, with a guard behind well armed with a huge blunderbuss and a
brace of horse pistols. We stopped to change horses at