got acquainted with nautical terms, and contracted a love for the
sea, which a lapse of thirty years has but little diminished.

It will easily be conceived that my life was a life of hardship. I was
not only a "ship-boy on the high and giddy mast," but also in the cabin,
where every menial office fell to my lot: yet if I was restless and
discontented, I can safely say, it was not so much on account of this,
as of my being precluded from all possibility of reading; as my master
did not possess, nor do I recollect seeing during the whole time of my
abode with him, a single book of any description except the Coasting
Pilot.

As my lot seemed to be cast, however, I was not negligent in seeking
such information as promised to be useful; and I therefore frequented,
at my leisure hours, such vessels as dropt into Torbay. On attempting to
get on board one of these, which I did at midnight, I missed my footing,
and fell into the sea. The floating away of the boat alarmed the man on
deck, who came to the ship's side just in time to see me sink. He
immediately threw out several ropes, one of which providentially (for I
was unconscious of it) entangled itself about me, and I was drawn up to
the surface, till a boat could be got round. The usual methods were
taken to recover me, and I awoke in bed the next morning, remembering
nothing but the horror I felt when I first found myself unable to cry
out for assistance.

This was not my only escape, but I forbear to speak of them. An escape
of another kind was now preparing for me, which deserves all my notice,
as it was decisive of my future fate.

On Christmas day, 1770, I was surprised by a message from my godfather,
saying that he had sent a man and horse to bring me to Ashburton; and
desiring me to set out without delay. My master as well as myself,
supposed it was to spend the holydays there; and he, therefore, made no
objection to my going. We were, however, both mistaken.

Since I had lived at Brixham, I had broken off all connexion with
Ashburton. I had no relation there but my poor brother,[D] who was yet
too young for any kind of correspondence: and the conduct of my
godfather towards me did not entitle him to any portion of my gratitude,
or kind remembrance. I lived, therefore, in a sort of sullen
independence on all I had formerly known, and thought without regret, of
being abandoned by every one to my fate. But I had not been overlooked.
The women of Brixham, who trav