WHO AND WHAT I AM.—MY EARLY LIFE.—LEAVING HOME, AND WHY I LEFT IT.

I am a modest, bashful sort of man, though I say it myself, and have been a sailor for a goodly number of years. Perhaps on board a ship I am not so bashful, and especially when in command of her. I don't feel altogether at home on shore, although I've given up the sea, and propose to spend the rest of my life on land. I was born on the 25th of November, 1783, the day of the evacuation of the city of New York by the British, at the end of the Revolutionary War.

It is proper to say that my arrival into the United States (and the world) on that day attracted much less attention throughout the country than did the departure of our enemies, but there's nothing surprising in that. I suppose you might have found, a few years ago, a good many people throughout these United States who were born on the same day as George Washington; but they haven't attracted any attention, while he has filled the eyes of the world. At any rate, he filled the stomachs of the British with all the fighting they wanted when they came here to subjugate the colonies.

My name is John Crane, or, rather, Captain Crane, at your service. I am, or rather was, a sea-captain, and for a pretty fair time too. People keep on calling me "Captain," although I've given up sea life and settled down on shore. But that's the way of things generally; which, after all, isn't so bad. If a man has done something and won a handle to his name, I think it is fair to let him keep it, and so I never correct folks when they call me Captain Crane. But when I sign a paper of any sort, no matter whether it's a letter to anybody or a legal document, I always write "John Crane," and nothing more. I never stick Captain on in front of it, as some do that I know.

Since I settled down on land I've told a good many of my experiences to neighbors and friends, and they've urged me to write a book. I've hesitated a good while about it,—there's where my bashfulness comes in,—but, after all, I don't see why I shouldn't do as others have done. There's many a book on sea life by men who have never been on blue water a tenth part as much as I've been there.

I can't spell very well, that was always a weak point with me; but I'll leave it to the printer to correct my spelling, and also my grammar, if I slip up in it. I never had a chance for much schooling; I had a little of the three R's, Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic, but precious little it was.

I was born among the hills of New Hampshire, in the township of Pembroke, about fifty miles from Portsmouth, a seaport of that State, and sixty or seventy miles from Boston.

As my birth occurred on what we may consider the last day of the War for Independence, I can't be supposed to remember anything about it of my own knowledge, but my earliest recollections are very much concerned with it. It was the great topic of conversation among the people in the region where I lived. My father, and nearly every other man in the neighborhood, had fought in the Continental Army, and they were very fond of "fighting their battles o'er again" in front of their firesides. My father was a soldier from the beginning of the war until 1777, when he was badly wounded and came home. It was late in 1778 when he recovered, but he wasn't able to go back to the army again. So he married, and you'll know about his family farther on. My early life was one of hardship. My parents had a small farm which we cultivated,—father and mother, and three brothers of us,—with our own hands. In fact, we could not well do otherwise, as we were too poor to hire any help. When he was twenty-one years old, James, my eldest brother, left home, went to a neighboring town, where he hired out with a farmer, and in less than a year was married to the farmer's daughter. Luckily for him, his wife's father had a good-sized farm, and she was an only child. So it happened that the newly married pair settled down on the farm to take care of the old folks; and in due time, when they were gathered to their fathers, my brother and his wife fell into possession of the farm and the property connected with it.

My second brother followed the example of the first, except that he did not marry a farm along with his girl. I was seventeen years old at the time he became engaged. Months, yes, I may say years, before this event, I had thought and dreamed about going to sea. Neither of my brothers cared for it, but I believe I was a born sailor if there ever was one. I longed to look upon the ocean and sail upon it, and felt that I would gladly pass the whole of my life on the waters. I read all that I could find about it; but I'm sorry to say that books were scarce in our neighborhood, and opportunities for reading were very small. I was greatly impressed by various passages in the Bible referring to the sea, especially the one in the Psalms which reads,—

"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep."

So, when the family was talking about my second brother's future prospects, I suggested that it was time for me to be doing something, and if father and mother consented, I would go to sea. There was some objection at first; but finally it was agreed and settled upon that my second brother should bring his bride to the house, and the twain would live there and care for the old folks, just as my elder brother and his wife were caring for her parents, while I would go to sea.

Then the question arose, "Should I go from Portsmouth or from Boston?" It was finally decided that as Boston was the larger place, and had a greater amount of shipping than Portsmouth, I had better go to Boston, and sail from there.

It was along in winter when this decision was reached. My departure was deferred until spring, not that there was very much for me to do at home in that season of the year, but because the traveling would be very bad when the roads were covered with snow and the weather cold. As the time approached for me to leave home I began to feel reluctant at going away. One day I was talking with David Taylor, one of my friends and schoolmates, at least he was my schoolmate for eight or ten weeks every year, and about my own age.

When I told him I was going to sea he jumped at the idea, and said he would like to go too; like myself, he had thought and dreamed about the ocean, and nothing would suit him better than sailing over it. He said he would speak to his father that very evening, and try and get his consent. The Taylor family was situated very much like mine, and I thought it quite likely that David would have no difficulty in obtaining the paternal permission.

The next morning, when we met at school, David shook his head, and said,—

"I'm afraid I can't go with you, John. I spoke to father last night, and what do you think he said?"

"From the way you talk, David," said I, "I suppose he wouldn't listen to your going to sea."

"Yes, that's it exactly. He said I had better stay at home, and if there wasn't room for me on the farm I could hire out among the neighbors. 'There's Major M'Clary,' said he, 'who has a big farm, and hires half a dozen hands most of the time, and a dozen of them in haying-time. You can hire out with him, I know. I fought under him at Bunker Hill, and I know he'd be willing to help along a son of mine.'"

"Well," I answered, "what did you say to that?"

"I told him I didn't want to hire out as a farm hand, and possibly be a hired man all my life. I'd rather go away and try to do something in the world, and I believed there was a chance for me if I'd only try it."

"We didn't have a very long talk about it," continued David; "but at the end of what we had to say father remarked that he would think it over, and perhaps would see Mr. Crane and talk with him about it."

"That's all right, David," I said, "that's all right. If Mr. Taylor has consented to think it over and talk with my father, I'm pretty sure that you'll go with me in the spring. I haven't seen much of the world, and don't know many folks in it; but when a man is willing to consider a thing, and talk about it with somebody else who has already considered it, it shows that he's a reasonable being, and I feel sure my father will make Mr. Taylor understand that it will be better for you to go out into the world than stay here at home. There are already too many mouths to feed in your family, and you'll have to go away from home very soon, anyway."

Then I told David some of the things I had read about the sea and a sailor's life. I told him particularly of the prize money that was obtained whenever a ship-of-war captured an enemy's vessel. Then I spoke of the wages that sailors obtained, especially after they got to be mates and captains; in fact, I dwelt a good deal more on the captain's wages than I did on those of the mariner before the mast. I had already said the same things to my father and mother, and that was one of the reasons why they consented to my going to sea. My mother, bless her loving heart! believed that her son would come home a captain before the end of the year.

Ambitious as I was, I could not take her rosy view of the case, but I did not undeceive her. My father was less sanguine; but of course he was proud of his son, and believed I would succeed. A mother's love and hopes are always far greater than a father's, but in saying this I do not mean to cast any aspersion upon the head of our family. He was affectionate to us all; and though he was severe at times, he was always kind and just.

Well, it was not long before Mr. Taylor and his wife came to our house and spent an evening. I was sent on a visit at Mr. Taylor's in order to have me out of the way during the conference, and my brother Charles went to call on the girl to whom he was engaged. The evening was an anxious one for both David and myself, and the time passed slowly. We tried to lay plans and talk of our future, but it was very difficult to do this when we did not know whether David would be permitted to accompany me or not. I went home at half-past eight o'clock, the time agreed upon, and met David's father and mother about half-way between our two houses.

I stopped and talked with them a moment, said that I had had a pleasant visit at their house, and they in return said they had passed an agreeable evening at my home. I hoped they would tell me what decision had been reached, but they said not a word on the subject that was uppermost in my heart. I had half a mind to ask them, but concluded that it would be impertinent for me to do so. So I bade them good-night, and proceeded on my way.

When I reached home my mother had gone to bed, and my father was just going. With some hesitation I asked if it had been determined whether David would go to sea or not.

"No," was the reply, "it hasn't yet been decided positively, as Mr. Taylor said he must sleep on it. He would never decide anything of such importance without sleeping on it at least one night."

"Do you think he will consent?" I asked.

"I hardly know what to say on that point," replied my father; "but I think he will say yes when the time comes to decide. He is just as sorry to have David go away from home as we are to have you go; but he realizes that his farm is small, like ours, there are several mouths to feed, and times are very hard. I think you may take it for granted that David will go to sea with you, but don't be too certain about it."

With that my father bade me good-night, and I went away to my bed in the garret. We boys slept up under the roof, for the reason that there was no other convenient place for us to sleep in. The roof was so low that we had to stoop, except directly under the ridge-pole, in order to avoid hitting our heads. The place was hot in summer, but cool enough in winter, as there were plenty of cracks to let in the air and cold. In the place where I lay the roof was not more than two feet above me; and many a night, when rain was falling, I have been lulled to sleep by the pattering of the drops on the roof.

I did not see David the next day, as for some reason or other he did not come to school. The second morning afterwards he was there bright and early; and before he spoke I could see by the luster of his eye, and the pleased expression on his face, that the decision had been reached, and was in favor of what he wanted to do. As he rushed toward me he said,— "What do you suppose father told me this morning?"

"I don't suppose anything about it," said I; "I know that he gave his permission for you to go to sea with me."

"Yes, that's it exactly," he replied; "but how did you find it out?"

"A little bird from the sky told me," I answered evasively; "never mind how I found it out; I'll tell you sometime."

In the five or ten minutes that passed before the teacher arrived and school was called to order, we talked as rapidly as our tongues would permit. We had a great deal to say, and we said it quickly. It was the same at the noon recess, when we strolled off together and indulged in that boyish occupation of building castles in the air. In imagination we went to sea together, as boys do in the story books; we did our duty faithfully and zealously, and were rewarded by rapid promotion. In less than three years we were both captains of ships, and regretted that the United States did not possess a powerful navy, so that we might both reach the grade of commodore or admiral before we had attained the age of twenty-five. At least, that was David's view of the matter; but I suggested to him that I never read of an admiral under fifty or sixty years at least. This cooled his ardor somewhat, but by no means discouraged him.

The winter wore on, and spring arrived in due time. Meanwhile, the traveling outfits for David and myself were prepared. In our township there were two or three women whose husbands were killed during the Revolution, and who supported themselves by making clothing for men and boys in cases where the garments could not be made by their wives or mothers. Usually my mother made the clothing for my father and the boys, and an economical method was pursued, a suit of clothes doing duty through the whole masculine part of the family.

Father would have a new suit of homespun, and when it became a little shabby it was made over for my brother James. After him it was made over for my second brother Charles, and after Charles for myself. Being the youngest, I was permitted to wear the suit out, and it was a pretty bad looking lot of garments by the time I was through with it. Sometimes I had a suit that had been made for Charles, but never do I remember having a brand new one.

As I was going away from home it was deemed important that I should have a specially good suit. Consequently, Mrs. Green was called in to construct it, and I was very proud of the garments when they were finished. It was the best suit of clothes I had ever possessed, and I wore them to church every Sunday after their completion until my departure. Extra stockings and an extra shirt completed my wardrobe; and these, with the new suit of clothes, made a fairly good bundle, which I was to carry on my shoulder. The last suit which brother Charles had discarded was made over for me to wear on my journey, so that when I was ready to leave home I presented quite a respectable appearance.

When the time came for us to start it was a great pain for me to say good-by to parents and brothers. I was anxious enough to go, and my young head and heart were full of ambition and of high hopes for the future. But at the same time I realized that I might be going away never to return; and, though none of us said so, I'm sure that the same thought was in every mind.

My mother broke down and cried when I kissed her farewell; my father made a great effort to preserve his composure, but I could see the tears standing in his eyes as he shook my hand and gave me his blessing with a choked voice. I learned afterward that when I stepped out of the door he yielded to his sorrow, as my mother had already done, and sank speechless and almost fainting into a chair. It was practically the same at David's house; yes, there was more grief there than at my own home, as David had two sisters, while I had none. The girls were very fond of their brother, and when the time came for him to bid them good-by they were so heart-broken that they were unable to speak.

I am not ashamed to say that I cried, and bitterly too, when I left my father's house. I said so to David before the day was out, and he frankly acknowledged that he had cried too when he left home.

Mr. Taylor's house was nearer to Boston than was my father's; and so it was agreed that David would watch for me on the morning when we were to start, and come out and join me as I passed. You may wonder why I did not go into the house to say good-by to the Taylor family. The fact is, I foresaw that I might not be wanted there at that moment, and so I called at David's house the evening before, partly to arrange our plans, but more especially to say good-by to the Taylors. You already understand that I was much attached to David, and I will add that I was especially fond of his eldest sister, who was a year younger than himself. To say good-by to her was no small effort for me, and I felt that it would be better for us to make our adieus in the evening, rather than in the morning, when the whole household would be plunged in grief at David's departure.