One year, more or less,
might be of small consequence to others, but it was everything to
me. It was now just a year since we sailed from Boston, and, at
the shortest, no vessel could expect to get away under eight or
nine months, which would make our absence two years in all. This
would be pretty long, but would not be fatal. It would not
necessarily be decisive of my future life. But one year more might
settle the matter. I might be a sailor for life; and although I
had pretty well made up my mind to it before I had my letters from
home, yet, as soon as an opportunity was held out to me of
returning, and the prospect of another kind of life was opened to
me, my anxiety to return, and, at least, to have the chance of
deciding upon my course for myself, was beyond measure. Beside
that, I wished to be ``equal to either fortune,'' and to qualify
myself for an officer's berth, and a hide-house was no place to
learn seamanship in. I had become experienced in hide-curing, and
everything went on smoothly, and I had many opportunities of
becoming acquainted with the people, and much leisure for reading
and studying navigation; yet practical seamanship could only be
got on board ship, therefore I determined to ask to be taken on
board the ship when she arrived.
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