This chance meeting was the beginning of a long and intimate acquaintance.  In the course of conversation I disclosed to Charles Webster—­such was his name—­the desperate state of my affairs, with the gloomy prospect they entailed.  The remedy he proposed—­and when sober he spoke well and sensibly—­was drastic and by no means unfeasible.  “Cut it all and go to sea,” he said.  “You’ve enjoyed yourself while your money lasted, and what’s the good of money but to spend?  You’ve spent yours—­now go to sea and get some more.  That’s how I do—­have a regular good blow-out when I draw my pay, and then ship for another voyage.”

“That is all very well for you,” I replied, “but how can I, without either training or experience, get a berth on board ship?”

“I can do it for you,” replied Webster.  “Lots of vessels are ordered to sea in a hurry, and not particular in picking up a crew, or perhaps a trifle over-loaded or not properly found, and short-handed in consequence.  That’s the sort of craft I’d look out for you, and if one wouldn’t take you, another would.  I’d tog you out like an A.B., and swear you knew your duty.”

“And what when they found I didn’t?”

“Wouldn’t matter a straw when we were afloat.  All they could do would be to d——­n my eyes or yours and make the best of it.  It’s done every day.  Certificates go for nothing, they’re so easily obtained.  When the voyage was over, you’d be up to a thing or two, and the skipper would rather sign your papers than be at the bother of going and swearing you weren’t a thorough seaman; then you could get another job without me.  It’s done constantly, I tell you, and why not?  Nobody can do anything without learning.  You take a trip with me, and I’ll make a sailor of you.  You’ve stood by me like a gentleman, and I’ll give you a lift if I can.”

Well, to cut the story short, I resolved, after some cogitation, to follow his advice, as, in the circumstances to which I had contrived to reduce myself, I saw nothing better to do.  My introduction to a seafaring life was effected pretty much on the lines indicated in the foregoing conversation.  The change from the existence of a voluptuary, squandering thousands on the wanton pleasure of the moment, to that of a common sailor, was at first anything but agreeable, and often and bitterly did I curse the follies of the past.  However, we learn from experience, and probably I have profited by the unpalatable lesson.  Webster was a firm ally, and showed that despite his dissolute and reckless mode of living, he really did possess something of the character which he claimed, that of a gentleman.  Under his tuition, and being moreover, like Cuddie Headrigg, “gleg at the uptak,” I made rapid progress in knowledge.