Where Strongest Tide Winds Blew, Page 2

  II.

  IN DAYS OF INNOCENCE.

  As I peer into the dim past that haunts the scenes of my childhood inAberdeen, Scotland, a thousand memories troop by like the scenes of apanorama with the footlights turned low; and when I contemplate themin a meditative hour it leaves me with as lonesome a feeling as if Ihad listened to the old time song, "Home Sweet Home," which I haveheard a thousand times in distant climes, sometimes sung to crowdedaudiences at the opera, and again by the pioneer as he rattled hisprairie schooner over the plains.

  It is a song that never grows old and never will so long as men leavethe home of their childhood, around whose hearthstones still playghost-like, the recollections of bye-gone years, tenderly touchingtheir sympathies as they pause for a moment in their monied pursuitsin other lands.

  SOUNDING THE DEPTHS]

  The old red school house on Princeton street, with the tall lankfigure of Ellwood for its presiding master and who believed in andpracticed the command of the Holy Writ: "Spare the rod and spoilthe child," was to me in those years of tenderness, a dismalcontemplation. But Sundays had a brighter hue when Mother woulddress me in full Highland suit of tartan, and adorn my cap with aneagle feather, surmounted with a brooch of the design of an armwith a dagger, bearing the motto, "We fear nae fae." With my smallclaymore and buckled shoes and plaid, how proudly I would walk upto the barracks at Castle Gate, where the sentry would salute me,and give me permission to enter.

  But those days had their troubles as well as pleasures. The West Northstreet boys had a grievance against those of the East North street andone Saturday both sides met in battle array, armed with woodenswords, near the North church at Queen street. After a determinedresistance West North street was victorious, when someone presented uswith a flag. It was a common piece of bunting, but to our young heroesit was something to be looked up to and defended with our lives beforethe honor of West North street should be sullied.

  That banner cost us many a headache, and many a soiled suit of clothesafter the usual Saturday battle. On one occasion we sallied forth asusual to the battlefield, carrying our banner, and shouting derisivelyat our foe. The enemy had been reinforced and after a hard struggle,they captured our flag and carried it off in triumph to East Northstreet.

  Our fellows were a crest-fallen lot, as we sat on the steps of thechurch looking the picture of dejection. However, a few days later, Isummoned the boys to meet in an old building in Ferrier's Lane. Therewere fifteen of us and we came armed with our wooden swords. Aftermuch debate over the loss of our flag, a committee was appointed tonotify the East North street fellows, that we were ready to offerbattle, and dared them to meet us the following Saturday and bring thecaptured flag. They accepted the challenge. When we met again in theold building by the hazy and flickering light of a tallow candle, withupraised swords we swore to re-capture our flag, uphold the honor ofour street or die in the attempt. I was chosen captain on thisoccasion, and never did a general rack his brain more for a plan ofsuccess than I did to win this battle. Finally I hit upon a stratagemand after school submitted it to all. It was to proceed to the usualplace of battle, but at the corner of Queen street five boys were tobe stationed out of sight, and when both armies met they were to rushin on their standard bearer and capture the flag. We met, and even tothis day I shudder at the ferocity of that battle. Twice I was knockeddown; several times our street was on the retreat when someoneshouted--"Remember our oath!" and then another desperate rush, andalong with the charge of the five secreted ones which so surprised theEast North street boys that they finally yielded, and we carried offour flag in triumph. John Taylor's head was cut, John Ingerham's eyeswere black, my right knee cap was out of place and six or eight otherswere more or less wounded. The boys of East North street fared aboutthe same. Good old Doctor Ellis living in King street witnessed thefight, but he kept my secret, for I told Mother that I was hurt inrunning a race.

  And so those delightful days of early boyhood passed like one longsummer day. But a change came. My father died and in a few monthsmore, my loving Mother, after a lingering illness, passed away. I thenleft the home of my childhood to live with my older brother, James.

  Although every possible kindness was shown me, there was lacking amother's love, a mother's sympathy and cheering words, things thattouch the tender chords of a boy's heart. At that time I was sent tothe Ledingham Academy, but it was useless. The golden veil throughwhich I had looked out on the world was lifted, the chain of love andaffection broken. I saw the great ships come with their strange menfrom other ports of the world. I saw them unfurl their snowy sails andspeed over the blue waters bound for the shores of other climes. Iwatched them until they were but a speck of white down on the bluehorizon, and I longed to be on board--to feel the ship roll upon thebillows and hear the wind whistling through the rigging, to climbaloft and view the limitless expanse of ocean and feel that I was apart of these white specters of the sea.

  One day I saw in the windows of Knox & Co., a sign which read:

  "Two apprentices wanted for the sea."

  I went in and told them I wanted to become a sailor. About this timeanother lad about one year older than myself came in on the sameerrand. An old gentleman, after surveying us both for some moments,remarked that in his opinion we were too young, but told us to wait afew minutes as Captain McKenzie would be in soon.

  When Captain McKenzie came in he asked us if it was with the consentof our parents that we made application. Being answered in theaffirmative by James Mitchell, the other boy, I answered that myfather and mother were dead, but my brother would sign the necessarypapers.