Next day, my brother's friend, whom I choose to call Mr. Jones,
accompanied me down to the docks among the shipping, in order to get
me a place. After a good deal of searching we lighted upon a ship for
Liverpool, and found the captain in the cabin; which was a very handsome
one, lined with mahogany and maple; and the steward, an elegant looking
mulatto in a gorgeous turban, was setting out on a sort of sideboard
some dinner service which looked like silver, but it was only Britannia
ware highly polished.

As soon as I clapped my eye on the captain, I thought myself he was
just the captain to suit me. He was a fine looking man, about forty,
splendidly dressed, with very black whiskers, and very white teeth, and
what I took to be a free, frank look out of a large hazel eye. I liked
him amazingly. He was promenading up and down the cabin, humming some
brisk air to himself when we entered.

"Good morning, sir," said my friend.

"Good morning, good morning, sir," said the captain. "Steward, chairs
for the gentlemen."

"Oh! never mind, sir," said Mr. Jones, rather taken aback by his extreme
civility. "I merely called to see whether you want a fine young lad to
go to sea with you. Here he is; he has long wanted to be a sailor; and
his friends have at last concluded to let him go for one voyage, and see
how he likes it."

"Ah! indeed!" said the captain, blandly, and looking where I stood.
"He's a fine fellow; I like him. So you want to be a sailor, my boy, do
you?" added he, affectionately patting my head. "It's a hard We, though;