DURING the pleasant year I spent with Mr.
Robertson, in the lively village of Portobello, the country was
horror-stricken by the expose of the ghoulish traffic of
murdering innocent persons to supply food for the dissecting
scalpel, in which Burke and Hare played prominent parts in
Edinburgh, the scene of Burke's expiation on the scaffold for
the crime, while Hare, turning King's evidence, escaped the
gallows, to suffer a living death in Canada.
The tie of consanguinity is not easily broken
in Scotland. A cousin, with that people, must be a good many
times removed before he can be allowed to slide into the ocean
which is considered common to humanity. Taking a few days of
recreation at home, I soon found employment with Alexander Glen,
Castle street, Edinburgh, a cousin o' my father's o' the German
type. There's no knowing how far the elastic tie was stretched —
it was still unbroken ; and it was only necessary to mention the
name of John Johnston to find a place in his thriving business.
Mr. Glen's business lay among the elite of the New Town, among
whom was Sir Walter Scott, whose mansion was on the north
section of the same street, at which it became my
duty to call daily, to supply his family with the staff of life.
On one occasion I essayed (as was usual) to approach the' larder
for the purpose of relieving myself of my burthen of six
quartern loaves, at a time when all the servants were engaged up
stairs. Sir Walter's favorite hound, Maida, disputed my
approach, and, on attempting to elude his vigilance, he placed
my helpless arm between his potent jaws, and there held me in
durance till the cook made her appearance and indulged in a
hearty laugh at my expense, and then Maida took his matted place
on the landing of the kitchen stairs, his sentry-box when on
guard. The charm of that classic precinct passed away at the
demise of that genial soul, whose daily steps, in wonted
exercise, made sacred the very stones on which he trod, and
which is now adorned by the Gothic taste of Kemp, in that
matchless monument in memory of the immortal Scott.
In the' meantime my half-brother, Alexander,
after many years' service in the Royal artillery, had
distinguished himself at the taking of the island of Ceylon from
the Dutch. While as flag sergeant, being engaged in special
service, the command of the detachment fell to him by the fall
in battle of the commissioned officers intrusted with the
expedition, the object of which, requiring some strategic
delicacy, was attained to the satisfaction of the officer in
command, a report of which was, by his orders, transmitted to
the commander-in-chief, His Grace the Duke of Wellington, who
was pleased to offer Alexander, as a mark of his approval, his
choice of a commission in the Royal artillery, or a barrack
sergeantcy, or a master gunnership in any one of our home
strongholds. Not relishing the atmosphere of an officer's mess
to one who has risen from the ranks, he had the good sense to
choose the lesser of the twin favors. The Iron Duke at that time
held the office of master-gunner of the ordnance. The master-gunnership
of Leith fort was the first fruits of the Duke's favors, and
this was rendered the more agreeable by the residence in that
fort of his brother-in-law, David Davidson, and his delightful
family. This fort is advantageously situated on the rising
ground west of North Leith, near the fishing village of
Newhaven, commanding a fine extensive
view of the busy Firth, the Isle of Inchkeith and the Kingdom o'
Fife. H. M. S. Ramilies, eighty-four guns, then guarded the
commerce of the northern capital, the flitting visits to and
from Stirling of the first of the forthcoming numerous family of
steamers which had the courage to risk a taste of the stormy
Firth, added another subject of interest. Here, in a visit of
three weeks at this bewitching spot, my unconquerable passion
for the sea was engendered, a passion which nothing short of
sea-sickness could subdue.
After a lapse of a few years from this visit,
while working with Mr. Glen, I engaged to work with a Mr.
Wright, of the Coalhill, Leith, for no other reason than to be
near the shipping. This step I soon regretted, not only on
account of the good feeling existing between Mr. Glen and
myself, but the influence of disparagement to the coarse nature
of Mr. W. as compared to Mr. Glen.
The only redeeming feature of the change was
the companionship of my fellow-workman, David Bonner who, as far
as one can judge for themselves, was the very counterpart of the
subscriber. He had the advantage of age (two years), of
education, and in wild vagaries. It required about two weeks to
combine our serial architectural capacities so as to enable us
to launch out in the business of castle building. Each held the
other in the highest estimation for practical wisdom, and
whatsoever was suggested by the one was clinched by the other as
the one thing needful. In the course of our cogitations we at
length resolved to see the world; that the sea being the highway
of nations, we should take that road; that inasmuch as it was
impossible to get shipped in Leith, we should start for
Newcastle-on-Tyne for that purpose; that it would be more
agreeable to go the one hundred miles by water than by land;
that a boat lying keel uppermost at Hillesfield may be sold for
ten shillings; that we buy said boat and stick a pole in her to
which we can fasten a biscuit bag for a sail. Our prospective
voyage was designed to be one of pleasure. Old Boreas was to put
on his best behavior. We were to be very careful never to sail
so far from the land that we could not, if necessity required
it, just pull our bit boatie ashore and take our snooze on dry
land, and await the morning breeze from the north to help us on
our journey. We gave up our situations with Mr. Wright, and
found our purchase money for the boat entirely lost, inasmuch as
it proved beyond our strength to move her, and got laughed to
scorn on asking assistance from practical men. "Why," they said,
"that old hulk has been so long a stranger to salt water that on
an attempt to re-launch her she would fall to pieces." Still so
impatient were we for the sea that we hired a boat for our
experimental trip to the island of Inchkeith. Weather fine and
tide serving, the passage to the island was delightful, and to
add to our pleasure while on the island a splendid frigate
passed so close to us as to enable us to perceive every movement
of the busy crew upon her deck. Up to that period in my life I
had never witnessed anything so bewitchingly fascinating as that
moving picture. My wild, unthinking brain and heart followed in
her wake. And now the wind, freshening and veering to the
southwest, together with the adverse tide, admonished us to the
oar. The closing scene of that voyage was made to stand in
bitter contrast with that of the early day. Three hours' hard
pulling began to convince us that wind and tide ahead were too
much for our unskillful seamanship, and might lead to our
undoing. The schemes of the voyage to Newcastle were borne by
that breeze to the German ocean, never more to be dreamed of
again. Our soft, unsailor-like hands became crowded with
egg-like blisters, and still a hard mile to row, and the clouds
of night rapidly descending. At dusk we reached the harbor and
found the captain in a surly mood, pacing the deck of his little
Thurso sloop, from whom we hired the boat. He met us with a
vocabulary which I have since learned presented itself in the
shape of much approved maritime oaths. I confess to having
understood one of his expressions when he sputtered out in
Scandinavian idiom: "I hope to go to------somewhere if I ever
lend my boat to d------d land lubbers again." Now this was
simply an outburst of anger brewed an hour ago in the
supposition that his yawl had gone to the locker of Davy Jones.
No matter what had become o' the two idiots who tempted him with
their halfcrown for a bit sail in the Firth. He thought, in his
broad Christian charity, that as far as the boys were concerned
they might as well be out of the way.
There are actions during the spring-time of
life which will shrink from the scrutiny of one's riper years.
Exemption from this test, I believe, is confined to the few.
Still there may be such whose blunders figure as an exception to
the rule of an otherwise fairly spent morning of life. In my own
retrospect I find, alas! an entire reversal in the order of
things. I am humiliated to find blundering unmistakably the rule
and wise action the exception. Could there be a better specimen
found than the present to show to what folly youth can descend
when left untrammeled? Behold two fellows, respectively 17 and
15 years old, brooding over their sunk wealth in the shape of
(not an elephant, but) a cast-off yawl as inert as the Bass Rock
to their appliances within reach.
