either to London or back to Hull as we thought fit.

Had I now had the sense to have gone back to Hull, and have gone
home, I had been happy, and my father, as in our blessed Saviour's
parable, had even killed the fatted calf for me; for hearing the
ship I went away in was cast away in Yarmouth Roads, it was a great
while before he had any assurances that I was not drowned.

But my ill fate pushed me on now with an obstinacy that nothing
could resist; and though I had several times loud calls from my
reason and my more composed judgment to go home, yet I had no power
to do it. I know not what to call this, nor will I urge that it is
a secret overruling decree, that hurries us on to be the
instruments of our own destruction, even though it be before us,
and that we rush upon it with our eyes open. Certainly, nothing
but some such decreed unavoidable misery, which it was impossible
for me to escape, could have pushed me forward against the calm
reasonings and persuasions of my most retired thoughts, and against
two such visible instructions as I had met with in my first
attempt.

My comrade, who had helped to harden me before, and who was the
master's son, was now less forward than I. The first time he spoke
to me after we were at Yarmouth, which was not till two or three
days, for we were separated in the town to several quarters; I say,
the first time he saw me, it appeared his tone was altered; and,
looking very melancholy, and shaking his head, he asked me how I
did, and telling his father who I was, and how I had come this
voyage only for a trial, in order to go further abroad, his father,
turning to me with a very grave and concerned tone "Young man,"