When I got in, in the Normandy, it happened
as usual, though I took a short swing only. Mr. Everdy, our old mate in
the Erie, was working gangs of stevedores, riggers, &c., ashore; and when
I went and reported myself to him, as ready for work in the Normandy
again, he observed that her gang was full, but that, by going up-town next
morning, to the screw-dock, I should find an excellent job on board a
brig. The following day, accordingly, I took my dinner in a pail, and
started off for the dock, as directed. On my way, I fell in with an old
shipmate in the navy, a boatswain's-mate, of the name of Benson. This man
asked me where I was bound with my pail, and I told him. "What's the use,"
says he, "of dragging your soul out in these liners, when you have a
man-of-war under your lee!" Then he told me he meant to ship, and advised
me to do the same. I drank with him two or three times, and felt half
persuaded to enter; but, recollecting the brig, I left him, and pushed on
to the dock. When I got there, it was so late that the vessel had got off
the dock, and was already under way in the stream.
My day's work was now up, and I determined to make a full holiday of it.
As I went back, I fell in with Captain Mix, the officer with whom I had
first gone on the lakes, and my old first-lieutenant in the Delaware, and
had a bit of navy talk with him; after which I drifted along as far as the
rendezvous.
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