Fiction > Book editions > London, 1886 - Kidnapped

I GO TO SEA IN THE COVENANT OP DYSART.            63
was a growl of quarrelling all day long from berth to
berth; and as I was never allowed to set my foot on
deck, you can picture to yourselves how weary of my
life I grew to be, and how impatient for a change.
And a change I was to get, as you shall hear; but
I must first tell of a conversation I had with Mr. Riach,
which put a little heart in me to bear my troubles.
Getting him in a favourable stage of drink (for indeed
he never looked near me when he was sober) I pledged
him to secrecy, and told him my whole story.
He declared it was like a ballad; that he would do
his best to help me; that I should have paper, pen, and
ink, and write one line to Mr. Campbell and another to
Mr. Rankeillor; and that if I had told the truth, ten
to one he would be able (with their help) to pull me
through and set me in my rights.
"And in the meantime," says he, "keep your heart
up. You're not the only one, I'll tell you that. There's
many a man hoeing tobacco over-seas that should be
mounting his horse at his own door at home; many and
many! And life is all a variorum, at the best. Look
at me: I'm a laird's son and more than half a doctor,
and here I am, man-Jack to Hoseason!"
I thought it would be civil to ask him for his story.
He whistled loud.
"Never had one," said he. "I liked fun, that's all."
And he skipped out of the forecastle.