Friday, March the 31st, in the Year of our Lord 1700 and XX
This day I did quit my confinement aboard the merchantman Bluefin, and at length set my feet upon dry ground after many weeks at sea, arriving at last upon the isle of St. Albion, and within the harbor town they call Port Dominion.
As I take pen to paper, my heart is divided betwixt curiosity and hope, mingled with a measure of shock and dread, and already, I confess, a growing distaste for the place. In truth, I do feel myself a fool for consenting to come hither, much less to engage in the employ for which I am retained. Yet since I am here, I purpose to keep a faithful account of my days, of what mine eyes behold and mine ears discern, and of those matters of consequence which I may gather as intelligence.
And because this is the beginning of my journal, it is meet that I declare my name and estate, that those who in time to come may light upon these pages shall know somewhat of the man who writ them.
I am called Benedict Marlowe, aged eight and twenty years, unmarried, born of honest and godly parents, Thomas and Martha Marlowe of Dean in England, in the reign of our Sovereign Lady Queen Anne. I am the third of six children: Oliver and Elias being my elder brethren, myself the middle, with Amos my younger brother, and two sisters, Alice and Agnes. My mother did bear two other babes that God in His providence saw fit to take in their infancy; they lie in consecrated earth of our parish yard, and their souls, I trust, are at peace in heaven.
My brother Oliver took the soldier’s life, desiring a commission; the last word we had of him was from Liverpool, and naught since. Mayhap he hath prospered, yet we know not. Elias, being of studious mind, aspired to physic, but our family could not furnish the expense of his schooling; thus he is bound apprentice to a leatherworker in Blackpool. Amos, poor lad, could never find his footing; failing of the seminary, he turned wanderer, living by odd employments, his small earnings soon squandered in taverns. My father will not speak his name, holding him a disgrace, whilst my mother ceases not to pray for his safety. My sister Alice is soon to wed a tradesman of Liverpool, a widower much her senior, whose first wife was slain in a hapless accident with a runaway cart. Though the match secures her worldly provision, I fear it brings her little joy. Agnes, is still young, but within a span of a few short years shall be of age to find a suitor and a husband.
As for myself, I was by God’s grace instructed in letters, whereby I found employ as a scribe to sundry merchants and men of business. The wages sufficed to clothe me decently, feed me well, and house me modestly, though they yielded not great riches. When a more profitable engagement was offered me, I consented to voyage unto these Indies, to St. Albion, this isle but newly come beneath the English flag, where dangers are still rife and the future uncertain.
I shall, God willing, set down more of my impressions of this place in due season. For the present, I await the summons of my employer, and mayhap I shall seek some chamber for lodging, and a meal not too offensive to the stomach, within this town of Port Dominion.
No comments:
Post a Comment