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〃I…I think I will go to bed now； please；〃 I said； laying my band on my
father's knee； and feeling exceedingly queer。
It was high time； for the Typhoon was plunging about in the most
alarming fashion。 I was speedily tucked away in the upper berth； where I
felt a trifle more easy at first。 My clothes were placed on a narrow shelf at
my feet； and it was a great comfort to me to know that my pistol was so
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handy； for I made no doubt we should fall in with Pirates before many
hours。 This is the last thing I remember with any distinctness。 At midnight；
as I was afterwards told； we were struck by a gale which never left us until
we came in sight of the Massachusetts coast。
For days and days I had no sensible idea of what was going on around
me。 That we were being hurled somewhere upside…down； and that I didn't
like it； was about all I knew。 I have； indeed； a vague impression that my
father used to climb up to the berth and call me his 〃Ancient Mariner；〃
bidding me cheer up。 But the Ancient Mariner was far from cheering up； if
I recollect rightly； and I don't believe that venerable navigator would have
cared much if it had been announced to him； through a speaking…trumpet；
that 〃a low； black； suspicious craft； with raking masts； was rapidly bearing
down upon us！〃
In fact； one morning； I thought that such was the case； for bang！ went
the big cannon I had noticed in the bow of the ship when we came on
board； and which had suggested to me the idea of Pirates。 Bang！ went the
gun again in a few seconds。 I made a feeble effort to get at my trousers…
pocket！ But the Typhoon was only saluting Cape Cod…the first land sighted
by vessels approaching the coast from a southerly direction。
The vessel had ceased to roll； and my sea…sickness passed away as
rapidly as it came。 I was all right now； 〃only a little shaky in my timbers
and a little blue about the gills；〃 as Captain Truck remarked to my mother；
who； like myself； had been confined to the state…room during the passage。
At Cape Cod the wind parted company with us without saying as
much as 〃Excuse me〃； so we were nearly two days in making the run
which in favorable weather is usually accomplished in seven hours。 That's
what the pilot said。
I was able to go about the ship now； and I lost no time in cultivating
the acquaintance of the sailor with the green…haired lady on his arm。 I
found him in the forecastle…a sort of cellar in the front part of the vessel。
He was an agreeable sailor； as I had expected； and we became the best of
friends in five minutes。
He had been all over the world two or three times； and knew no end of
stories。 According to his own account； he must have been shipwrecked at
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The Story of a Bad Boy
least twice a year ever since his birth。 He had served under Decatur when
that gallant officer peppered the Algerines and made them promise not to
sell their prisoners of war into slavery； he had worked a gun at the
bombardment of Vera Cruz in the Mexican War； and he had been on
Alexander Selkirk's Island more than once。 There were very few things he
hadn't done in a seafaring way。
〃I suppose； sir；〃 I remarked； 〃that your name isn't Typhoon？〃
〃Why； Lord love ye； lad； my name's Benjamin Watson； of Nantucket。
But I'm a true blue Typhooner；〃 he added； which increased my respect for
him； I don't know why； and I didn't know then whether Typhoon was the
name of a vegetable or a profession。
Not wishing to be outdone in frankness； I disclosed to him that my
name was Tom Bailey； upon which he said be was very glad to hear it。
When we got more intimate； I discovered that Sailor Ben； as he wished
me to call him； was a perfect walking picturebook。 He had two anchors； a
star； and a frigate in full sail on his right arm； a pair of lovely blue hands
clasped on his breast； and I've no doubt that other parts of his body were
illustrated in the same agreeable manner。 I imagine he was fond of
drawings； and took this means of gratifying his artistic taste。 It was
certainly very ingenious and convenient。 A portfolio might be misplaced；
or dropped overboard； but Sailor Ben bad his pictures wherever he went；
just as that eminent person in the poem；
〃With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes〃 …
was accompanied by music on all occasions。
The two bands on his breast； he informed me； were a tribute to the
memory of a dead messmate from whom he had parted years ago…and
surely a more touching tribute was never engraved on a tombstone。 This
caused me to think of my parting with old Aunt Chloe； and I told him I
should take it as a great favor indeed if he would paint a pink hand and a
black hand on my chest。 He said the colors were pricked into the skin with
needles； and that the operation was somewhat painful。 I assured him； in an
off…hand manner； that I didn't mind pain； and begged him to set to work at
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The Story of a Bad Boy
once。
The simple…hearted fellow； who was probably not a little vain of his
skill； took me into the forecastle； and was on the point of complying with
my request； when my father happened to own the gangway…a circumstance
that rather interfered with the decorative art。
I didn't have another opportunity of conferring alone with Sailor Ben；
for the next morning； bright and early； we came in sight of the cupola of
the Boston State House。
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CHAPTER Four
Rivermouth
It was a beautiful May morning when the Typhoon hauled up at Long
Wharf。 Whether the Indians were not early risers； or whether they were
away just then on a war…path； I couldn't determine； but they did not appear
in any great force…in fact； did not appear at all。
In the remarkable geography which I never hurt myself with studying
at New Orleans； was a picture representing the landing of the Pilgrim
Fathers at Plymouth。 The Pilgrim Fathers； in rather odd hats and coats； are
seen approaching the sav