My friend Collins, therefore, undertook to manage a little for me.
He agreed with the captain of a New York sloop for my passage,
under the notion of my being a young acquaintance of his, that had
got a naughty girl with child, whose friends would compel me to
marry her, and therefore I could not appear or come away publicly.
So I sold some of my books to raise a little money, was taken on
board privately, and as we had a fair wind, in three days I found
myself in New York, near 300 miles from home, a boy of but 17,
without the least recommendation to, or knowledge of any person in
the place, and with very little money in my pocket.
My inclinations for the sea were by this time worne out, or I
might now have gratify'd them. But, having a trade, and supposing
myself a pretty good workman, I offer'd my service to the printer
in the place, old Mr. William Bradford, who had been the first
printer in Pennsylvania, but removed from thence upon the quarrel
of George Keith. He could give me no employment, having little to do,
and help enough already; but says he, "My son at Philadelphia
has lately lost his principal hand, Aquila Rose, by death;
if you go thither, I believe he may employ you." Philadelphia was
a hundred miles further; I set out, however, in a boat for Amboy,
leaving my chest and things to follow me round by sea.
In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that tore our rotten sails
to pieces, prevented our getting into the Kill and drove us upon
Long Island.
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