About This Book
My name is Philip Forster, and I am now an old man. I reside in a quiet little village, that stands upon the sea-shore, at the bottom of a very large bay-one of the largest in our island. I have styled it a quiet village, and so it really is, though it boasts of being a seaport. There is a little pier or jetty of chiselled granite, alongside which you may usually observe a pair of sloops, about the same number of schooners, and now and then a brig. Big ships cannot come in. But you may always note a large number of boats, either hauled up on the beach, or scudding about the bay, and from this, you may conclude that the village derives its support rather from fishing than commerce. Such in reality is the fact. It is my native village-the place in which I was born, and where it is my intention to die. Notwithstanding this, my fellow-villagers know very little about me. They only know me as "Captain Forster," or more specifically as "The Captain," this soubriquet being extended to me as the only person in the place entitled to it. Strictly speaking, I am not entitled to it. I have never been a captain of soldiers, nor have I held that rank in the navy. I have only been the master of a merchant vessel, -in other words, a "skipper." But the villagers are courteous, and by their politeness I am styled "Captain."
