uple o' stewards f'm a U.S. navy cutter anchored off
de navy yard.

"Hol' on, dar, boy,' 'dey sing out, 'wha you gwine so fas'? Grab dis
here basket an' tote hit down to de dock.'

"I knowed I couldn't git back home 'fore dat spit dried, an' I be'n
figgerin' how I could peacify my mammy so's to miss dat beatin'. I
figger of I mek a quarter or hahf a dollar an' gin it to 'er, she mebbe
forgit de paddlin'. So I take de bahsket an' foller 'em down to de water
front. W'en we git dere dey was a sailor waitin' fer 'em wid a boat f'm
de cutter. I set de bahsket in de boat an' stood waitin' fo' my money.

"You ain't finished yo' job yit,' dey say. 'Git yo'se'f in dat boat an'
put dat stuff on be'd.'

"W'en I gits on deck a cullud boy 'bout my size say 'Wanna look about a
bit?' So I foller him below an' fo' I knowed it, I feel de boat kinda
shakin.' I run to a porthole an' look out. Dere was Key West too far
away to swim back to.

"I ran up on deck, an' dare was de steward w'at gin me de bahsket to
tote. 'W'at th'ell you doin' on bo'd dis ship,' he ahsk me.

"I tells 'im I ain't wantin' t' stay no mo'n he wants me, an' he takes
me to de cap'm. 'I reckon he b'long to do navy now,' says de cap'm, 'so
dey fix some papers an' I makes my mark on 'em.

"Ahftah a bit I find we bound fo' N'Orleans. 'Fore we got dere, a ship
hove 'longside an' gin us a message to put about. I ahsk a li'l
Irishman, named Jack, wha we gwine, an' he say, 'Outa de worl'.'

"Jesus wep't I say, 'my mammy think I be daid.' I couldn't read nor
write, an' didn't know how to tell noboddy how to back a letter to my
mammy, so I jes' let hit go, an' we staht back de way we come.

"I thought hit be'n stormin' all de time, but w'en we pahs thoo de
Florida straits I see w'at a real storm's like. I didn't know, ontell
we was hahf way down de South American coast, headin fer Cape Horn, dat
we done pahs Key West, but I couldn't got off if I'd wanted to, 'cause
I'd done jined de navy.

"Hit seem lak months 'fore we roun' de Cape an' head back north on de
Pacific, an' hit seem lak a year 'fore we drop anchor in Hong Kong. Dey
tell me de admiral was stationed dere an' de cap'n had to report to him.
W'ile he was doin' dis, we gits shore leave.

"Wen Jack an' me gits on land, we couldn't onnerstan' a word, but we mek
signs, an' a tough-lookin' Chink motion fer us to foller him. We go down
a dark street an' turn thoo an alley, then into a big room lighted with
color