The Second Mate Of The Pilgrim Told Me That They Had
An Old Gentleman On Board Who Knew Me, And Came From The College
That I Had Been In.
He could not recollect his name, but said he was a "sort of an
oldish man," with white hair, and spent all his time in the bush,
and along the beach, picking up flowers and shells, and such truck,
and had a dozen boxes and barrels, full of them.
I thought over
everybody who would be likely to be there, but could fix upon no
one; when, the next day, just as we were about to shove off from
the beach, he came down to the boat, in the rig I have described,
with his shoes in his hand, and his pockets full of specimens.
I knew him at once, though I should not have been more surprised
to have seen the Old South steeple shoot up from the hide-house.
He probably had no less difficulty in recognizing me. As we left
home about the same time, we had nothing to tell one another;
and, owing to our different situations on board, I saw but little
of him on the passage home. Sometimes, when I was at the wheel
of a calm night, and the steering required no attention, and the
officer of the watch was forward, he would come aft and hold a
short yarn with me; but this was against the rules of the ship,
as is, in fact, all intercourse between passengers and the crew.
I was often amused to see the sailors puzzled to know what to make
of him, and to hear their conjectures about him and his business.
They were as much puzzled as our old sailmaker was with the captain's
instruments in the cabin.
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