t he has left for ever
his boyish days and stepped into manhood. I felt that I had passed that
boundary when I found myself rated as an able seaman on board the
_Syren_ sloop of war. I was now under a far stricter system of
discipline than I had been accustomed to. At first I felt it somewhat
galling; but I soon saw that without the greatest regularity it would be
impossible to keep order among the crew of a ship even of the size of
the _Syren_.

My early days I had spent on board a merchantman, and had met with many
adventures somewhat strange and exciting. I did not expect to meet with
fewer in my new career, though they would probably be of a different
character. The result of my last, in which I had aided in rescuing two
of my countrymen from captivity, had proved most satisfactory. Jacob
Lyal, one of them, was now with me, and I knew he would speak well of me
among my new shipmates. The other, Captain Stenning, late master of the
_Dolphin_, was on board that vessel, and, I hoped, would soon be enabled
to rejoin his wife and family in Halifax. Captain Gale, her present
master, would also, I knew, speak favourably of me to my first commander
in the _Rainbow_, Captain Helfrich, whenever he should fall in with him.
I pity the man who does not desire to be thought well of by those who
know him, and who does not feel that he deserves their good wishes. I
certainly had not made many friends, but those I had found were true and
fast ones; and a great source of satisfaction to me was the having with
me Peter Poplar, my first and best friend--that true-hearted seaman who
had saved me from starvation--who had tended me as a father in my
boyhood and youth--who had given me a profession which would enable me
to support myself while health and strength remained--and who had ever
endeavoured to instil into me those true principles which would enable
me to steer clear of the rocks and quicksands to be found in my course
through life.

The wind had fallen and become fair; the helm of the corvette was put
down, the sails were trimmed, and, under a crowd of canvas such as few
merchantmen can attempt to set, we quickly ran the coast of Africa out
of sight--the last we saw of its sandy shores being over our starboard
quarter. The commander of the _Syren_, Captain Hudson, was, I found,
very much liked by the crew, as, although he was a strict officer, he
was a just one, and known to be a thorough seaman. He was a gentleman