as one of Hutcheson's best. N.H.
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ON BOARD THE ESMERALDA; OR, MARTIN LEIGH'S LOG

BY JOHN CONROY HUTCHESON

CHAPTER ONE.

EARLY DAYS.

It is strange what trifling events--little things apparently in
themselves--seem to have the power of shaping our different destinies,
and colouring, so to speak, the whole course of our subsequent life!

To illustrate this, I may state without exaggeration that, had it not
been for Dr Hellyer's hat--taken in connection with the mischievous
promptings of that madcap Tom Larkyns, my special chum at the time--it
is more than probable that the grand climax which so abruptly brought my
school-days to a close might have been averted; and, in that case,
following out the argument, I should not have gone to sea; have never
started on that disastrous voyage round Cape Horn which nearly
terminated my then newly-commenced nautical career as summarily as my
whilom academical studies had been put a stop to just previously; and,
as a natural consequence, I should most certainly have never had the
opportunity or necessity for spinning the present yarn. But, perhaps,
the best plan for me to pursue, in order to make you fully understand
the matter in all its bearings, will be to "begin at the beginning," as
your regular 'longshore professional storytellers say, in the good old-
fashioned way, without any more backing and filling, and veering and
hauling, which mode of progression, as every decent sailor knows, only
tends to take a craft off her proper true course, and make lots of
leeway; whereas, if we sail on free, with a fair wind and a steady helm,
you'll soon be able to follow in my wake and form a correct opinion of
your own as to the merits of my logical conclusions.

I will now, therefore, put back again and select a fresh point of
departure after this little bit of sea lawyering; so, here goes for a
start in earnest!

My name is Martin Leigh, and my mother died shortly after I was born,
worse luck for me! My father, who was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy,
being within a year or two subsequently killed in action up the Niger
river on the west coast of Africa, I was left an orphan at a very early
age, without having ever experienced, even in my most remote childish
recollections, those two greatest of all blessings--a mother's love and
parental guidance--which many who have been more fortunate than myself
to possess