We two have since
      very frequently talked the matter over—but never without a
      shudder. In one of our conversations Augustus frankly confessed
      to me, that in his whole life he had at no time experienced so
      excruciating a sense of dismay, as when on board our little boat
      he first discovered the extent of his intoxication, and felt
      himself sinking beneath its influence. CHAPTER 2


      In no affairs of mere prejudice, pro or con, do we deduce
      inferences with entire certainty, even from the most simple data. It might be supposed that a catastrophe such as I have just
      related would have effectually cooled my incipient passion for
      the sea. On the contrary, I never experienced a more ardent
      longing for the wild adventures incident to the life of a
      navigator than within a week after our miraculous deliverance. This short period proved amply long enough to erase from my
      memory the shadows, and bring out in vivid light all the
      pleasurably exciting points of color, all the picturesqueness, of
      the late perilous accident. My conversations with Augustus grew
      daily more frequent and more intensely full of interest. He had a
      manner of relating his stories of the ocean (more than one half
      of which I now suspect to have been sheer fabrications) well
      adapted to have weight with one of my enthusiastic temperament
      and somewhat gloomy although glowing imagination. It is strange,
      too, that he most strongly enlisted my feelings in behalf of the
      life of a seaman, when he depicted his more terrible moments of
      suffering and despair. For the bright side of the painting I had
      a limited sympathy. My visions were of shipwreck and famine; of
      death or captivity among barbarian hordes; of a lifetime dragged
      out in sorrow and tears, upon some gray and desolate rock, in an
      ocean unapproachable and unknown. Such visions or desires—for
      they amounted to desires—are common, I have since been assured,
      to the whole numerous race of the melancholy among men—at the
      time of which I speak I regarded them only as prophetic glimpses
      of a destiny which I felt myself in a measure bound to fulfil. Augustus thoroughly entered into my state of mind. It is
      probable, indeed, that our intimate communion had resulted in a
      partial interchange of character. About eighteen months after the period of the Ariel’s disaster,
      the firm of Lloyd and Vredenburgh (a house connected in some
      manner with the Messieurs Enderby, I believe, of Liverpool) were
      engaged in repairing and fitting out the brig Grampus for a
      whaling voyage. She was an old hulk, and scarcely seaworthy when
      all was done to her that could be done. I hardly know why she was
      chosen in preference to other good vessels belonging to the same
      owners—but so it was. Mr. Barnard was appointed to command her,
      and Augustus was going with him. While the brig was getting
      ready, he frequently urged upon me the excellency of the
      opportunity now offered for indulging my desire of travel. He
      found me by no means an unwilling listener—yet the matter could
      not be so easily arranged. My father made no direct opposition;
      but my mother went into hysterics at the bare mention of the
      design; and, more than all, my grandfather, from whom I expected
      much, vowed to cut me off with a shilling if I should ever broach
      the subject to him again. These difficulties, however, so far
      from abating my desire, only added fuel to the flame. I
      determined to go at all hazards; and, having made known my
      intentions to Augustus, we set about arranging a plan by which it
      might be accomplished. In the meantime I forbore speaking to any
      of my relations in regard to the voyage, and, as I busied myself
      ostensibly with my usual studies, it was supposed that I had
      abandoned the design. I have since frequently examined my conduct
      on this occasion with sentiments of displeasure as well as of
      surprise. The intense hypocrisy I made use of for the furtherance
      of my project—an hypocrisy pervading every word and action of my
      life for so long a period of time—could only have been rendered
      tolerable to myself by the wild and burning expectation with
      which I looked forward to the fulfilment of my long-cherished
      visions of travel. In pursuance of my scheme of deception, I was necessarily obliged
      to leave much to the management of Augustus, who was employed for
      the greater part of every day on board the Grampus, attending to
      some arrangements for his father in the cabin and cabin hold. At
      night, however, we were sure to have a conference and talk over
      our hopes. After nearly a month passed in this manner, without
      our hitting upon any plan we thought likely to succeed, he told
      me at last that he had determined upon everything necessary. I
      had a relation living in New Bedford, a Mr. Ross, at whose house
      I was in the habit of spending occasionally two or three weeks at
      a time. The brig was to sail about the middle of June (June,
      1827), and it was agreed that, a day or two before her putting to
      sea, my father was to receive a note, as usual, from Mr. Ross,
      asking me to come over and spend a fortnight with Robert and
      Emmet (his sons). Augustus charged himself with the inditing of
      this note and getting it delivered. Having set out as supposed,
      for New Bedford, I was then to report myself to my companion, who
      would contrive a hiding-place for me in the Grampus. This
      hiding-place, he assured me, would be rendered sufficiently
      comfortable for a residence of many days, during which I was not
      to make my appearance. When the brig had proceeded so far on her
      course as to make any turning back a matter out of question, I
      should then, he said, be formally installed in all the comforts
      of the cabin; and as to his father, he would only laugh heartily
      at the joke. Vessels enough would be met with by which a letter
      might be sent home explaining the adventure to my parents. The middle of June at length arrived, and every thing had been
      matured. The note was written and delivered, and on a Monday
      morning I left the house for the New Bedford packet, as supposed. I went, however, straight to Augustus, who was waiting for me at
      the corner of a street. It had been our original plan that I
      should keep out of the way until dark, and then slip on board the
      brig; but, as there was now a thick fog in our favor, it was
      agreed to lose no time in secreting me.