: Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks Setting forth David Forsyth's Adventures in America's Battles on Sea and Desert with the Buccaneer Princes of Barbary with an Account of a Search under the Sands of the Sahara Desert for the Treasure-filled Tomb of Ancient K

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xception. The wharf and river had been my play region since earliest childhood. There were a number of yawls and cutters which the boys of the town were allowed to use when their owners did not require them, and in these we held mimic warfare, playing at buccaneers, or pretending that we were Yankee sailors fighting off English press-gangs. Sometimes a kindly skipper would allow us to explore his vessel, and there was always an old sailor of deck or dock willing to show a lad how to tie a rope or haul in a sail. Thus I became familiar with sailing ships from stem to stern and from the main royal truck to the keel.

MY FIRST VOYAGE

One night in May, Murad sent word to me that we were to sail at four o'clock the next morning. I went to bed as usual, but before the hall clock struck three I was out of my window with my luggage and on my way to the ship. When I went aboard I found that all of the confusion of spare rigging, rope, sails, hawsers, oakum and merchandise that I had noted on the deck the day before, had been cleared away.

All of the crew were Baltimore men. Some of them were honest, goodhearted fellows. Others were ruffians. I recognized Steve Dunn and some of his gang among the crew. Baltimore had evidently become too hot to hold such rascals.

Samuel Childs, who had sailed under Commodore Barney, took me under his wing, although he swore that I should have been keelhauled for going to sea without asking the advice of the rector or the commodore.

"But," I protested, "they are both out of the city, and if they knew the reason I had for going, they would approve."

"I don't like to see the skipper taking such an interest in you," Samuel said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Bludsoe, the mate, is a fine man. You can trust him as you would a father. But these Orientals--I question their motives. True, Murad was a skipper in the Sultan's navy, but he's hiding something. He's more than a mere captain. We older men can take care of ourselves, but you've had no experience with men. You'd better stick close to me aboard ship, and closer still when we land!"

Samuel was our chantie man, and good service he did in stimulating us to work the windlass in hauling up the anchors--sometimes buried so deep in the mud at the sea's bottom that it needed the liveliest sort of chantie to inspire our hearts and strengthen our sinews. The secret of the swift way in which we heaved up the anchor, cleared away lashings, pumped the ship, unreeved the running gear, and mastheaded the topsails lay in the fact that the chantie caused us to work in unison. No matter how tired we were, our spirits rose and the blood coursed as we worked to the chantie Samuel roared forth:

"Way, haul away; Oh, haul away, my Rosey. Way, haul away; O, haul away, Joe!"

There being a fine breeze from the shore, we made sail at the wharf and headed out to sea. As the wind increased, all sail was made, topmast stun'sail booms were run out, stun'sails spread, anchors secured, and all movable things on deck were made fast. When we hove the log it was seen that we were doing better than ten knot, a rate of speed that made Murad well satisfied with his ship.

We were mustered aft--watches were to be chosen. There were ten able seamen, three ordinary seamen, and one boy--myself. The men were divided between the port and starboard watches. Mr. Bludsoe, the chief officer, was in command of the port watch. Mr. French, the second officer, was in charge of the starboard watch. When we were not attending to the sails, we were kept busy scraping, painting, tarring and holy-stoning.

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