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The Music Professor Online
Judith Bowman
https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197547366.001.0001
Published: 2022 Online ISBN: 9780197547403 Print ISBN: 9780197547366
Copyright Page
https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780197547366.002.0003 Page iv
Published: April 2022
p. iv
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197547366.001.0001
135798642
now is the time to reconsider the broader musical, educational, and technolog-
ical contexts in which online education in music is implemented; to conduct qual-
itative studies of how people learn in online environments; to investigate specific
strategies for online learning in music; and to direct more attention toward devel-
opment of appropriate instructional models and practical teaching approaches.
(Bowman, 2014, p. 50)
Book Overview
The Music Professor Online. Judith Bowman, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197547366.003.0001
2 Introduction
This book is for instructors who want to teach online; for those who have
been asked to teach online although they had not planned to do so; for cur-
rent online instructors who may be teaching a course in a different music dis-
cipline, for music teacher educators who want to prepare their students for
online music instruction at the K–12 level, for graduate students anticipating
The Music Professor Online. Judith Bowman, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2022.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780197547366.003.0002
8 Exposition: The Changing Landscape
The survey report Online Education: Heading toward the Future, published by
the fabric of U.S. colleges and universities” (p. 6). The report is extensive.
It covers multiple aspects of online learning, including enrollment trends,
course design, finances, support services, and organizational structure. As
indicated by the title of the report, online education is becoming increas-
ingly mainstream. Institutions are using a variety of approaches in adapting
Moving Forward
The conclusion of Online education: Heading toward the future contains a rec-
ommendation for developing communities of practice for discussion of on-
line teaching practices and concerns, and the CHLOE 4 report points out the
summer, with the greatest number of courses offered during the summer.
Nearly 90% of the online courses were at the undergraduate level, and most
were lower-division courses.
There was little change from 2013 to 2016 in the courses offered. The
highest number of online courses remained in the subdisciplines of musi-
taking the best steps towards more effective education in music” (McConville
& Murphy, 2017).
A Closer Look
Research has provided evidence that outcomes of online learning are at least as
good as those of traditional educational models. That is, the research showed
no significant differences in learning outcomes between online and face-to-
face instruction. The “no significant difference” phenomenon refers to a body
of media comparison studies that compare learning outcomes of students in
face-to-face courses with those of students in distance courses. Russell (1999)
collected and compiled a total of 355 of these kinds of studies dating back to
1928. Distance delivery modes included print materials associated with cor-
respondence courses, radio, television, and online. Examination of the studies
revealed that when course materials and methodology were held constant,
there were no significant differences in student learning outcomes between
the distance course and the face-to-face course. Because learning outcomes
in distance courses were neither better nor worse than those in face-to-face
courses, Russell named this result the “no significant difference” phenom-
enon. However, “no significant difference” does not mean unimportant; it
means that the media treatments being compared are not different and that
they have an equal impact on learning. However, the methodologies used in
these earlier studies have been criticized, as many lacked controls of course
and student variables that would influence outcomes, such as control groups
and random assignment; course materials and instructional methods; and
student preparation, motivation, and interest.
In contrast to the perceived design weaknesses of those studies, a frequently
cited and well-respected U.S. Department of Education meta-analysis of on-
line learning research (Means et al., 2010) used a rigorous screening process.
To qualify for selection, studies needed to report on learning that took place
primarily over the internet, compare online learning with face-to-face or
In Person and Online: What’s the Difference? 15
models that might provide better approaches to improving the quality of stu-
dent learning. Among key points related to improving the quality of online
student learning were a focus on what instructors can do with technology
that they cannot do without it, the need to engage online students in active
learning, and awareness that students learn from one another and that they
When we first think about online teaching and learning, we may compare it
with features of face-to-face teaching and immediately notice what’s missing,
In Person and Online: What’s the Difference? 17
the underlying belief is that an online degree in music education is not necessarily
better or worse than a school’s traditional campus-based counterpart. Rather, it is
In Person and Online: What’s the Difference? 19
responses before posting to a discussion board. Time does not run out, eve-
ryone in the class must contribute, and there is a written record of the conver-
sation. Video discussion platforms (e.g., VoiceThread, Flipgrid) offer a similar
time advantage.
Both face-to-face and online classes can support active learning approaches
Standards
4. Standards
...
b. Delivery Systems, Verification, and Evaluation
(1) Delivery systems must be logically matched to the purposes of
each program. Delivery systems are defined as the operational
interrelationships of such elements as program or course con-
tent, interactive technologies, teaching techniques, schedules,
patterns of interaction between teacher and student, and evalua-
tion expectations and mechanisms.
(2) The institution must have processes that establish that the stu-
dent who registers in a distance education course or program is
the same student who participates in and completes the program
and receives academic credit. Verification methods are deter-
mined by the institution and may include, but are not limited to,
secure login and password protocols, proctored examinations,
and new or other technologies and practices.
...
d. Program Consistency and Equivalency
...
(2) When an identical program, or a program with an identical title,
is offered through distance learning as well as on campus, the in-
stitution must be able to demonstrate functional equivalency in
all aspects of each program. Mechanisms must be established to
assure equal quality among delivery systems.
22 Exposition: The Changing Landscape
Course Technology
Learner Support
Accessibility and Usability
...
Learning Objectives (Competencies)
2.1 The course learning objectives, or course/program competencies,
describe outcomes that are measurable.
...
2.4 The relationship between learning objectives or competencies and
learning activities is clearly stated.
...
Assessment and Measurement
3.1 The assessments measure the achievement of the stated learning
objectives or competencies.
...
Instructional Materials
4.1 The instructional materials contribute to the achievement of the
stated learning objectives or competencies.
4.2 The relationship between the use of instructional materials and com-
pleting learning activities is clearly explained.
...
Learning Activities and Learner Interaction
5.1 The learning activities promote the achievement of the stated learning
objectives or competencies.
5.2 Learning activities provide opportunities for interaction that support
active learning. . . . (Quality Matters, 2020)
Other Specific Review Standards refer to technologies and course tools that
support active learning. Even in the abbreviated format, these standards are
useful for anyone who is designing an online course or redesigning a face-to-
face course for online delivery.
24 Exposition: The Changing Landscape
Teaching and learning principles provide quality standards and guidelines for
practices that support and improve effective teaching and learning. The Seven
instructional strategies. But for any given instructional strategy, some tech-
nologies are better than others” (p. 3). To illustrate their point, they described
what they considered to be among the most economical and appropriate ways
to use technologies current at that time “to advance the Seven Principles”
(p. 3). Ways to update implementation of the various principles included
Principle 4: Good practice gives prompt feedback. Knowing what you know
and what you don’t know focuses learning. Students need appropriate feed-
back on performance to benefit from courses.
• Lesson for online instruction: Challenging tasks, sample cases, and praise
for quality work communicate high expectations.
• Suggestions for best practice: Instructors can communicate high
standards by designing rigorous and challenging online courses, cre-
ating challenging assignments that require analysis and synthesis of
reading materials, modeling the quality of discussion posts they expect of
students, and requiring and fostering active participation. Positive feed-
back within a discussion forum on particularly thoughtful or insightful
posts communicates high expectations, as do individual communica-
tions with students who fall behind or fail to participate.
Co
Social Cognitive m
m
Presence Presence
un
ns
ica
tio
tio
lica
nM
App
m
with
Partcipants Content
EDUCATIONAL
EXPERIENCE
Setting Regulating
Climate Learning
Dis
t
te x
Engagement
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Re Goals/Direction
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E
By Thomas Gillespie.
In the olden times, there were certain fixed occasions when labour
and frolic went hand in hand—when professional duty and
kindhearted glee mutually kissed each other. The “rockin’”
mentioned by Burns—
On Fasten e’en we had a rockin’—
I still see in the dim and hazy distance of the past. It is only under the
refractive medium of vigorous recollection that I can again bring up
to view (as the Witch of Endor did Samuel) those images that have
been reposing, “’midst the wreck of things that were,” for more than
fifty years. Yet my early boyhood was familiar with these social senile
and juvenile festivities. There still sits Janet Smith, in her toy-mutch
and check-apron, projecting at intervals the well-filled spindle into
the distance. Beside her is Isabel Kirk, elongating and twirling the yet
unwound thread. Nanny Nivison occupies a creepy on the further
side of the fire (making the third Fate!), with her shears. Around, and
on bedsides, are seated Lizzy Gibson, with her favoured lad; Tam
Kirkpatrick, with his jo Jean on his knee; Rob Paton the stirk-herd;
and your humble servant. And “now the crack gaes round, and who
so wilful as to put it by?” The story of past times; the report of recent
love-matches and miscarriages; the gleeful song, bursting unbid
from the young heart, swelling forth in beauty and in brightness like
the waters from the rock of Meribah; the occasional female
remonstrance against certain welcome impertinences, in shape of,
“Come now, Tam—nane o’ yer nonsense.” “Will! I say, be peaceable,
and behave yersel afore folk. ’Od, ye’ll squeeze the very breath out o’
a body.”
Till, in a social glass o’ strunt,
They parted off careering
On sic a night.
How few of the present generation have ever heard of this “lilting,”
except in song. It is the gayest and sunniest season of the year. The
young lambs, in their sportive whiteness, are coursing it, and
bleating it, responsive to their dams, on the hill above. The old ewes
on the plain are marching—
The labour much of man and dog—
Hay harvest, too, had its soft and delicate tints, resembling those
of the grain harvest. As the upper rainbow curves and glows with
fainter colouring around the interior and the brighter, so did the hay
harvest of yore anticipate and prefigure, as it were, the other. The
hay tedded to the sun; the barefooted lass, her locks floating in the
breeze, her cheeks redolent of youth, and her eyes of joy, scattering
or collecting, carting or ricking, the sweetly-scented meadow
produce, under a June sun and a blue sky!
Oh, to feel as I have felt,
Or be what I have been!—
the favoured lover, namely, of that youthful purity, now in its
fourteenth summer—myself as pure and all unthinking of aught but
affection the most intense, and feelings the most soft and
unaccountable.
Ah, little did thy mother think,
That day she cradled thee,
What lands thou hadst to travel in,
What death thou hadst to dee!
Poor Jeanie Johnston! I have seen her, only a few weeks ago, during
the sittings of the General Assembly, sunk in poverty, emaciated by
disease, the wife of an old soldier, himself disabled from work,
tenanting a dark hovel in Pipe’s Close, Castlehill of Edinburgh.
In the upper district of Dumfriesshire—the land of my birth, and of
all those early associations which cling to me as the mistletoe to the
oak, and which are equally hallowed with that druidical excrescence
—there are no coals, but a superabundance of moss; consequently
peat-fires are very generally still, and were, at the time of which I
speak, universally, made use of; and a peat-fire, on a cold, frosty
night of winter, when every star is glinting and goggling through the
blue, or when the tempest raves, and
There’s no a star in a’ the cary,
is the very soul of cheerfulness and comfort. But then peats must be
prepared. They do not grow in hedges, nor vegetate in meadows.
They must be cut from the black and consolidated moss; and a
peculiarly-constructed spade, with a sharp edge and crooked ear,
must be made use of for that purpose; and into the field of operation
must be brought, at casting-time, the spademen, with their spades;
and the barrowmen, and women, boys, and girls, with their barrows;
and the breakfast sowans, with their creamy milk, cut and crossed
into circles and squares; and the dinner stew, with its sappy potatoes
and gusty-onioned mutton fragments; and the rest at noon, with its
active sports and feats of agility; and, in particular, with its jumps
from the moss-brow into the soft, marshy substance beneath—and
thereby hangs my tale, which shall be as short and simple as
possible.
One of the loveliest visions of my boyhood is Nancy Morrison. She
was a year or so older than me; but we went and returned from
school together. She was the only daughter of a poor widow woman,
who supported herself in a romantic glen on the skirts of the
Queensberry Hills, by bleaching or whitening webs. In those days,
the alkalies and acids had not yet superseded the slower progress of
whitening green linen by soap-boiling, trampling, and alternate
drying in the sun, and wetting with pure running water. Many is the
time and oft that Nanny and I have wielded the watering-pan, in this
fairy, sunny glen, all day long. Whilst the humble-bee boomed past
us, the mavis occupied the thorn-tree, and the mother of Nanny
employed herself in some more laborious department of the same
process, Nanny and I have set us down on the greensward—in tenaci
gramine—played at chucks, “head him and cross him,” or some such
amusement. At school, Nanny had ever a faithful defender and
avenger in me; and I have even purloined apples and gooseberries
from the castle garden—and all for the love I bore “to my Nanny, oh!”
I know not that any one has rightly described a first love. It is not
the love of man and woman, though that be fervent and terrible; it is
not the love of mere boy and girlhood, though that be disinterested
and engrossing; but it is the love of the period of life which unites the
two. “Is there a man whose blood is warm within him” who does not
recollect it? Is there a woman who has passed through the novitiate
of fifteen, who has not still a distinct impression of the feeling of
which I speak? It is not sexual, and yet it can only exist betwixt the
sexes. It is the sweetest delusion under which the soul of a created
being can pass. It is modest, timid, retiring, bashful; yet, in absence
of the adored—in seclusion, in meditation, and in dreams—it is bold,
resolute, and determined. There is no plan, no design, no right
conception of cause; yet the effect is sure and the bliss perfect. Oh,
for one hour—one little hour—from the thousands which I have
idled, sported, dreamed away in the company of my darling school-
companion, Nancy!
Will Mather was about two years older than Nancy—a fine youth,
attending the same school, and evidently an admirer of Nancy. Mine
was the love of comparative boyhood; but his was a passion gradually
ripening (as the charms of Nancy budded into womanhood) into a
manly and matrimonial feeling. I loved the girl merely as such—his
eye, his heart, his whole soul were in his future bride. Marriage in no
shape ever entered into my computations; but his eager look and
heaving bosom bespoke the definite purpose—the anticipated
felicity. I don’t know exactly why, but I was never jealous of Will
Mather. We were companions; and he was high-souled and
generous, and stood my friend in many perilous quarrels. I knew that
my pathway in life was to be afar from that in which Nancy and Will
were likely to walk; and I felt in my heart that, dear as this beautiful
rosebud was to me, I was not man enough—I was not peasant
enough to wear it in my bosom. Had Nancy on any occasion turned
round to be kissed by me, I would have fled over muir and dale to
avoid her presence; and yet I had often a great desire to obtain that
favour. Once, indeed, and only once, did I obtain, or rather steal it.
She was sitting beside a bird’s nest, the young ones of which she was
feeding and cherishing—for the parent birds, by the rapacity of a cat,
had recently perished. As the little bills were expanding to receive
their food, her countenance beamed with pity and benevolence. I
never saw even her so lovely; so, in a moment, I had her round the
neck, and clung to her lips with the tenacity of a creature drowning.
But, feeling at once the awkwardness of my position, I took to my
heels, becoming immediately invisible amidst the surrounding
brushwood.
Such was Will Mather, and such was Nancy Morrison, at the
period of which I am speaking. We must now advance about two or
three years in our chronology, and find Will possessed of a piece of
information which bore materially on his future fortunes. Will was
an illegitimate child. His mother had kept the secret so well that he
did not know his father, though he had frequently urged her to reveal
to him privately all that she knew of his parentage. In conversing,
too, with Nancy, his now affianced bride, he had expressed similar
wishes; whilst she, with a becoming and feminine modesty, had
urged him not to press an aged parent on so delicate a point. At last
the old woman was taken seriously ill, and, on her death-bed and at
midnight, revealed to her son the secret of his birth. He was the son
of a proprietor in the parish, and a much-respected man. The youth,
so soon as he had closed his mother’s eyes, hurried off, amidst the
darkness, to the abode of his father, and, entering by a window, was
in his father’s bed-chamber and over his body ere he was fully awake.
“John Scott!” said the son, in a firm and terrible tone, grasping his
parent meantime convulsively round the neck, “John Scott of
Auchincleuch, I am thy son!”
The conscience-stricken culprit, being taken by surprise, and
almost imagining this a supernatural intimation from Heaven,
exclaimed, in trembling accents:
“But who are you that makes this averment?”
“I am thy son, father—oh, I am thy son!”
Will could say no more; for his heart was full, and his tears
dropped hot and heavy on a father’s face.
“Yes,” replied the parent, after a convulsive solemn sob—(O
Heaven! thou art just!)—“yes, thou art indeed my son—my long-
denied and ill-used boy—whom the fear of the world’s scorn has
tempted me, against all the yearnings of my better nature, to use so
unjustly. But come to my bosom—to a father’s bosom now, for I
know that voice too well to distrust thee.”
In a few months after this interesting disclosure, John Scott was
numbered with his fathers, and Will Scott (no longer Mather)
became Laird of Auchincleuch.
Poor Nancy was at first somewhat distressed at this discovery,
which put her betrothed in a position to expect a higher or genteeler
match. But there was no cause of alarm. Will was true to the
backbone, and would as soon have burned his Bible as have
sacrificed his future bride. After much pressing for an early day on
the part of the lover, it was agreed, at last, that the marriage should
take place at “Peatcasting Time,” and that Nancy should, for the last
time, assist at the casting of her mother’s peats.
I wish I could stop here, or at least proceed to give you an account
of the happy nuptials of Will Scott and Nancy Morrison, the
handsomest couple in the parish of Closeburn. But it may not be!
These eyes, which are still filled (though it is forty-eight years since)
with tears, and this pen, which trembles as I proceed, must attest and
record the catastrophe.
Nancy, the beautiful bride, and I (for I was now on the point of
leaving school for college) agreed to have a jump for the last time
(often had we jumped before) from a suitable moss-brow.
“My frolicsome days will sune be ower,” she cried, laughing; “the
Gudewife of Auchincleuch will hae something else to do than jump
frae the moss-brow; and, while my name is Nancy Morrison, I’ll hail
the dules, or jump wi’ the best o’ my auld playmates.”
“Weel dune, Nancy!” cried I; “you are now to be the wife o’ the
Laird o’ Auchincleuch, when your jumping days will be at an end;
and I am soon to be sent to college, where the only jump I may get
may be from the top of a pile of old black-letter folios—no half sae
gude a point of advantage as the moss-brow.”
“There’s the Laird o’ Auchincleuch coming,” cried Peggy Chalmers,
one of the peat-casters, who was standing aside, along with several
others. “He’s nae langer the daft Will Mather, wha liked a jump as
weel as the blithest swankie o’ the barnyard. Siller maks sair
changes; and yet, wha wad exchange the Will Scott of Auchincleuch,
your rich bridegroom, Nancy, for the Will Mather, your auld lover?
Dinna tempt Providence, my hinny! The laird winna like to see his
bride jumpin frae knowe to knowe like a daft giglet, within a week o’
her marriage.”
“Tout!” cried Nancy, bursting out into a loud laugh; “see, he’s awa
round by the Craw Plantin, and winna see us—and whar’s the harm if
he did? Come now, Tammie, just ae spring and the last, and I’ll wad
ye my kame against your cravat, that I beat ye by the length o’ my
marriage slipper.”
“Weel dune, Nancy!” cried several of the peat-casters, who, leaning
on their spades, stood and looked at us with pleasure and
approbation.
The Laird had, as Nancy said, crossed over by what was called the
Craw Plantin, and was now out of sight. To make the affair more
ludicrous (for we were all bent on fun), Nancy took out, from among
her high-built locks of auburn hair, her comb—a present from her
lover—and impledged it in the hands of Billy Watson, along with my
cravat, which I had taken off, and handed to the umpire.
“Here is a better moss-brow,” cried one, at a distance.
And so to be sure it was, for it was much higher than the one we
had fixed upon, and the landing-place was soft and elastic. Our
practice was, always to jump together, so that the points of the toes
could be measured when both the competitors’ feet were still fixed in
the moss. We mounted the mossbrow. I was in high spirits, and
Nancy could scarcely contain herself for pure, boisterous, laughing
glee. I went off, but the mad girl could not follow, for she was still
holding her sides, and laughing immoderately. I asked her what she
laughed at. She could not tell. She was under the influence of one of
those extraordinary cachinations that sometimes convulse our
diaphragms, without our being able to tell why, and certainly without
our being able to put a stop to them. Her face was flushed, and the
fire of her glee shone bright in her eye. I took my position again.
“Now!” cried I; and away we flew, and stuck deeply in the soft and
spongy moss.
I stood with my feet in the ground, that the umpire might come
and mark the distance. A loud scream broke on my ear. I looked
round, and, dreadful sight! I saw Nancy lying extended on the
ground, with the blood pouring out at her mouth in a large stream!
She had burst a blood-vessel. The fit of laughing which preceded her
effort to leap had, in all likelihood, distended her delicate veins, and
predisposed her to the unhappy result.
The loud scream had attracted the notice of the bridegroom, who
came running from the back of the Craw Plantin. The sight appalled
and stupefied him. He cried for explanation, and ran forward to his
dead or dying bride, in wild confusion. Several voices essayed an
explanation, but none were intelligible. I was as unable as the rest to
satisfy the unhappy man; but, though we could not speak intelligibly,
we could act, and several of us lifted her up. This step sealed her fate.
The change in her position produced another stream of blood. She
opened her eyes once, and fixed them for a moment on Will Scott.
She then closed them, and for ever.
I saw poor Nancy carried home. Will Scott, who upheld her head,
fainted before he proceeded twenty yards, and I was obliged to take
his place. I was almost as unfit for the task as himself; for I
reproached myself as the cause of her death. I have lived long. Will
the image of that procession ever pass from my mind? The blood-
stained moss-ground, the bleeding body, the trailing clothes, the
unbound locks, are all before me. I can proceed no further. Would
that I could stop the current of my thoughts as easily as that of this
feathered chronicler of sorrow! But—
There is a silent sorrow here,
A grief I’ll ne’er impart;
It breathes no sigh, it sheds no tear,
But it consumes my heart.
How goes the press? was, as usual, our first and most anxious
inquiry when the pilot boat came alongside to the westward of Lundy
Island. The brief but emphatic reply was, “As hot as blazes.” Knowing
therefore what we had to expect, the second mate and I, and one or
two others, applied to the captain to set us ashore at Ilfracomb, but
he would not listen to us. A double-reefed topsail breeze was blowing
from the westward, and a vigorous flood-tide was setting up channel,
enabling us to pass over the ground about fifteen knots. Such
advantages the captain was no way disposed to forego, so that there
was nothing for us but to trust to Providence and our stow holes. The
breeze flagged towards sunset, and it was not until an hour after
dusk that we dropped anchor in Kingroad.
As soon as the ship was brought up, I stepped in the main rigging
to lend a hand to furl the topsail, but had not reached the top, when I
heard the cabin boy calling out in an Irish whisper, “Bobstay, down,
down, the press-boat is alongside.” I was on deck in a twinkling, and
was springing to the after scuttle, when I found myself seized
violently by the arm. I trembled. It was the same boy that had called
me down. “They are already in the mizen chains,” said he; “to the
fore scuttle, or you are a gone man.”
Down the fore peak I went with the rapidity of lightning, and down
jumped three of the gang after me with little less velocity.
“Oho, my tight little fellow,” said one of them, thrusting his cutlass
down a crevice over my head; “I see you; out you must come, or here
goes an inch or two of cold steel into your bread-bag.”
I knew well that I was beyond his reach, and took care to let him
have all the talk to himself. They rummaged about all over the hold,
thrusting their cutlasses down every chink they could perceive, but
no one could they find give a single squeak. In about half an hour I
heard the well-known voice of the cabin boy calling me on deck. On
reaching the deck, I found that the gang had carried off three of our
hands, and had expressed their determination to renew their search
next day. Of course my grand object was to get ashore without delay.
The moment we anchored, the captain had gone off to Bristol to
announce his arrival to his owners; and as the mate and I were not
on good terms, he refused to allow me the use of the ship’s boat.
None of the watermen whose boats we hailed would come alongside,
because if they had been found assisting the crew of merchant vessels
to escape the press, they themselves would have been subjected to its
grasp. About midnight, however, one waterman came alongside, with
whom the love of money overcame the fear of danger, and he agreed
to pull the second mate, boatswain, and myself ashore, for half a
guinea each. I had brought from the West Indies a small venture in
sugar, a cask of which, about a hundredweight, I took into the boat
with me, to clear present expenses.
Shortly after we had shoved off, we found ourselves chased by a
long boat, which the waterman knew, by the sound of the oars, to be
the guard-boat. How we did pull! But it seemed in vain; we found it
would be impossible to reach the landing-place, so we pulled for the
nearest point of land. The moment the boat touched the ground, I
took the cask of sugar on my shoulder, and expecting solid ground
under the boat’s bows, jumped ashore. Instead of solid ground, I
found myself above the knees in mud. The guard-boat was within a
hundred yards of the shore, and what was to be done! All that a man
has will he give for his liberty, so away went the cask of sugar. Thus
lightened, I soon scrambled out, when the three of us scampered off
as fast as it was possible for feet to carry us. What became of the
waterman, or his boat, or my cask of sugar, we never knew; nor did
we think of stopping to breathe or look round us, till we reached the
town of Peel, where by a blazing fire and over a dish of beef-steaks,
and a few tankards of brown stout, we soon forgot our dangers and
our fears.
Our residence here, as far as liberty was concerned, was pretty
nearly on a par with prison residence. The second mate and I lodged
together, and during daylight we never durst show our faces, except,
perhaps, between four and six in the morning, when we sometimes
took a ramble in a neighbouring burying-ground, to read epitaphs;
and this, from the love of the English to poetical ones, was equivalent
to the loan of a volume of poetry. But Time’s pinions seemed in our
eyes loaded with lead, and we were often inclined to sing with the
plaintive swain,
Ah! no, soft and slow
The time it winna pass,
The shadow of the trysting thorn,
Is tether’d on the grass.
And had it not been for the kindly attentions of our landlord’s two
handsome daughters, to whose eyebrows we indited stanzas, I know
not how we would have got the time killed.
Snug as we thought ourselves, the press-gang had by some means
or other been put on the scent, and one day very nearly pounced on
us. So cautious had they been in their visit, that their approach was
not perceived until they were actually in the kitchen. Fortunately we
were at this time in an upper room, and one of the daughters rightly
judging of the purpose of their visit, flew upstairs to warn us of our
danger, and point out a place of safety. This place was above the
ceiling, and the only access to it was through a hole in the wall a little
way up the vent. It was constructed as a secure place to lodge a little
brandy or geneva, that sometimes found its way to the house,
without having been polluted with the exciseman’s rod. It was
excellently adapted to our purpose, and the entrance to it was
speedily pointed out by our pretty little guardian angel. Up the vent
we sprung like a brace of chimney sweeps, and had scarcely reached
our place of concealment, when the gang rushed upstairs, burst open
the door, and began to rummage every corner of the room. The bed
was turned out, the presses all minutely examined, and even the vent
itself underwent a scrutiny, but no seamen could be found.
“Tell us, my young lady, whereabout you have stowed away them
there fellows, for we knows they are in the house?”
“What fellows?” said the dear little girl, with a composure which
we thought it impossible for her to assume so soon after her violent
trepidation.
“Why, them there fellows as came ashore from one of the West
Indiamen t’other day; we knows they are here, and are determined to
have ’em.”