ted. It had been arranged that the luggage should first be
carried on board, and after that, we were to return for the passengers,
as we were to sail early in the morning. We pulled off with the
luggage, but on our arrival on board, I was so drunk, that the captain
would not allow me to return in the boat, and I knew nothing of what had
passed until I was roused up the next morning to assist in getting the
ship under weigh. We had been under weigh two or three hours, and were
clearing the land fast, when the gentleman passenger came on deck; I was
then coiling down a rope on the quarter-deck, and as he passed by me, I
looked at him, and I recognised him immediately as your father. Years
had passed--from a stripling he had grown a man; but his face was not to
be mistaken. There he was, apparently a gentleman of property and
consideration; and I, what was I? A drunken sailor. All I hoped was,
that he would not recognise me. Shortly afterwards he went down again,
and returned escorting his wife on deck. Again I took a furtive curious
glance, and perceived at once that she was that Miss Evelyn, whom I had
once so loved, and by my folly had lost. This was madness. As they
stood on the deck, enjoying the cool sea breeze, for the weather was
delightfully fine, the captain came up and joined them. I was so
confused at my discovery, that I knew not what I was about, and I
presume was doing something very awkwardly; for the captain said to
me--`Jackson, what are you about, you drunken hound? I suppose you are
not sober yet.' At the mention of my name, your father and mother
looked at me, and as I lifted up my head to reply to the captain, they
eyed me earnestly, and then spoke to each other in a low tone; after
which they interrogated the captain. I could not hear what they said,
but I was certain they were talking about me, and that they had
suspected, if they had not recognised me. I was ready to sink to the
deck, and, at the same time, I felt a hatred of your father enter my
heart, of which, during his life, I never could divest myself. It was
as I supposed; your father had recognised me, and the following morning
he came up to me as I was leaning over the gunwale amid ships, and
addressed me,--`Jackson,' said he, `I am sorry to find you in this
situation. You must have been very unfortunate to have become so
reduced. If you will confide your history to me, perhaps I may, when we
arrive in England, be able to