rging her cargo. Captain
Dean then told me that he hoped I would sail with him, but that, as the
ship required a thorough repair, it would be some weeks before she could
be at sea again, and that in the meantime he would advise me to employ
myself usefully; and he recommended me to take a trip in a trader to
Halifax or Saint John's, for the sake of gaining information regarding
the navigation of those seas.

"A person who wishes to be a thorough sailor (and if a man is not a
thorough sailor he has no business to be an officer)," he observed,
"will seek every opportunity of making himself well acquainted with the
navigation of every sea he visits, the appearance of the coasts, the set
of the currents, the rise and fall of the tides, the prevailing winds,
and the weather to be expected at different seasons. He will go afloat
in every sort of craft, and be constantly considering how he would act
under all possible circumstances. He should never weary of making
inquiries of other seamen how they have acted, and the result of what
they have done. As navigation was not brought to the perfection it has
now attained under many centuries, so no man will become a perfect
seaman unless he diligently gathers together the information possessed
by all whom he meets, at the same time weighing well their opinions, and
adopting them after duly comparing them with others."

I have always remembered Captain Dean's advice, and I advise all young
sailors to follow it; indeed, it strikes me that it is applicable to
most relations in life.

I looked about for a vessel, but could not find one. Meantime, by the
captain's kindness, I remained on board, though he and Mary went to live
in lodgings on shore, as, of course, in the state the ship was in, she
could have no comfort even in her own cabin. About three or four days
after our arrival, I saw a ship ascend the river and come to an anchor
not far from where we were lying. Prompted by curiosity, I was looking
at her through a telescope, when I observed a group of people on the
deck who were gazing apparently with the curiosity of strangers at the
shore. A little apart from them stood a form I thought I recognised. I
pointed my glass steadily at him. I felt certain that I could not be
mistaken. It was Silas Flint. Then all on the raft, instead of
perishing, as it was supposed they would, might have been saved, as he
had escaped. I was truly glad, and, borrowing the dinghy from th