transcribe "not a cent
of money shall you receive."

He stepped ashore, and walked with rapid strides up the wharf. I went
forward, and seating myself on the windlass, burst into tears!

It struck me as hard and unjust that I should be deprived of my
well-earned wages, unless on condition of committing an unworthy act,
at which my soul revolted. My decision, however, was taken. Although
the loss of my money would have subjected me to inconvenience perhaps
distress I resolved to submit to any ills which poverty might inflict,
rather than comply with the wishes and advice of this unprincipled man,
who should have acted towards me as a faithful monitor and guide.

I remained in this disconsolate condition for about an hour, when
Captain Turner returned on board. As he stepped leisurely over the
gangway, he greeted me with a benignant smile, and beckoned me to the
quarter deck.

"Well, Hawser," said he in his blandest manner, as if he sought to atone
for his coarse language and dishonorable conduct a short time before,
"so you refuse to do as others do take a false oath? You are too
sanctimonious by half, and you will find it out some day. You are an
obstinate little fool, but may do as you like. Here is another paper;
look over it, and see if it will suit you."

I opened the paper; it was a true statement of my claim against the
government for wages. In the course of the day, the ship's company
proceeded in a body to the office of the government agent, swore to our
several accounts, and received our money.

The amount which fell to my share was not large. I purchased some
clothes, paid a few trifling debts that I had contracted while subjected
to the "law's delay," which Shakespeare, a keen observer of men and
manners, classes among the most grievous of human ills, and had a few
dollars left.

After my experience of a sailor's life, after the treatment I had
received, the miserable fare on which I had barely existed during a
portion of the time, and the disgusting specimen of nautical morality I
had met with in Captain Turner, it will not be considered surprising
if my views of a sailor's life had been a little changed during my last
voyage. I entertained some doubts whether "going to sea," instead of
being all poetry and romance, was not rather a PROSY affair, after all;
and I more than once asked myself if a young man, of correct deportment
and industrious habits, who could find some good and respectable
busines