FullReads

At night he slept under haystacks or hedges, or in empty barns, and thus in time he reached Portsmouth, sore-footed, weary, and hungry, for during the last day his wallet had been empty.

Wandering down the High Street, he passed through a large gateway, and out on a common, from whence he caught sight of the blue sea, and several huge ships floating on it, but they were too far out to reach, and he had no money to pay for a boat; and he would have gained nothing had he reached them, for a poor ragged boy like him would not have been received on board. So he went back the way he had come. He asked several people if they could tell him how he could get on board ship, but they must have thought that he was silly, for they smiled and passed on.

He had begun to think that he should never obtain his wishes, when close to the Southsea Gate he saw an old apple-woman sitting at her stall. She brought his mother to mind. She looked kind, too, so he asked her. Something in his manner touched Old Moll’s heart. She asked him several questions, and then said, “Sure, yes; there’s what they call a training-ship for boys–the old —, off the Dockyard, at Portsea. They, maybe, will take you. Here’s sixpence to get aboard; and here– you look hungry, lad–is some gingerbread and apples–they’ll do you good; and now God speed you! Go straight on–you can’t miss the way, and come and tell me some day how you’ve fared.”

Ned went on through narrow lanes and dirty streets, till he came near the shore of the harbour, which was crowded with vessels of all sizes.

“If one won’t have me, surely another will,” he said to himself, as he gazed with wonder at some of the line-of-battle ships. “They must want a precious number of people to fill those great things.”

He now began to inquire which was the old —, where boys were received. He was told that he couldn’t see her from there–that she was higher up the harbour; but none of the boatmen he spoke to seemed disposed to take him on board. In vain he promised his sixpence. He had gone out to the end of one of the slips from the Common Hard, when two seamen and a sailor lad came down, carrying baskets, evidently full of provisions, and directed one of the boatmen who had just refused him to take them on board the old —. As they were stepping into the wherry, the boatman beckoned to Ned, and told him that he could now go. He took his seat next to the lad, who, in spite of his own clean white trousers, and blue shirt with worked collar, and fresh straw hat, seemed in no way to despise his ragged dress. In a kind tone he asked Ned why he was going on board. Ned told him.

“Hope you’ll succeed, mate,” he observed. “A year ago, I was like you– only paler and thinner, and maybe fewer clothes to my back–and trembled when I went aloft; and now there are not many aboard can reach the main-truck from the deck before me, or lay out smarter on a yard.”

The tide was against them, so that Ned had time to tell his new acquaintances a good deal of his history before they reached the ship. They all seemed to take an interest in him, especially the lad–a fine, strong ruddy-faced young fellow of sixteen.

“Well, just do you ask for Bill Hudson–that’s me–after you’ve seen the first lieutenant and the doctor; and then I’ll tell you what to do,” said the latter. “You might lose yourself, do ye see, otherwise, about there.”

When they arrived alongside the huge ship, and Ned proffered his sixpence, the men wouldn’t let him pay it, but helped him up the side through the entrance port, when he found himself, for the first time, on the main-deck of a man-of-war. While Bill Hudson went to find the proper person to take him to the officers for examination, he was lost in wonder, looking at the huge guns, with their polished gear, the countless number, it seemed, of boys and men moving about–all so cleanly and neatly dressed–and the spotless decks, white as a wooden platter.