sea at four in the
morning! Ought to be a bright summer's day, and the sun shining and
flags flying an'----" A choked laugh.

"Glad I'm not a sailorman to be going out on a morning like this! Sure
you've remembered everything? Your cab should be here now. Just gone
four. Heard the bells as I was dressing----"

Rattle of wheels on the granite setts--sharp, metallic ring of shod
heels--a moment of looking for a number--a ring of the door-bell.

"Perty that's tae gang doon tae th' Queen's Dock wi' luggage.... A'
richt, Mister! Ah can cairry them ma'sel'.... Aye! Weel! Noo that
ye menshun it, Sur ... oon a mornin' like this.... Ma respeks, gents!"

There are no good-byes: the last has been said the night before. There
could be no enthusiasm at four on a raw November's morning; it is best
that I slip out quietly and take my seat, with a last look at the quiet
street, the darkened windows, the quaint, familiar belfry of St. Jude's.

"A' richt, Sur. G'up, mere! Haud up, mere, ye!"

At a corner of the Square the night policeman, yawning whole-heartedly,
peers into the cab to see who goes. There is nothing to investigate;
the sea-chest, sailor-bag, and bedding, piled awkwardly on the
'dickey,' tell all he wants to know.

"A sailor for aff!"

Jingling his keys, he thinks maybe of the many 'braw laads' from
Lochinver who go the same hard road.

* * * * *

Down the deserted wind-swept streets we drive steadily on, till house
lights glinting behind the blinds and hurrying figures of a
'night-shift' show that we are near the river and the docks. A turn
along the waterside, the dim outlines of the ships and tracery of mast
and spar looming large and fantastic in the darkness, and the driver,
questioning, brings up at a dim-lit shed, bare of goods and cargo--the
berth of a full-laden outward-bounder. My barque--the _Florence_, of
Glasgow--lies in a corner of the dock, ready for sea. Tugs are
churning the muddy water alongside, getting into position to drag her
from the quay wall; the lurid side-light gleams on a small knot of
well-wishers gathered at the forward gangway exchanging parting words
with the local seamen of our crew. I have cut my time but short.

"Come en there, you!" is my greeting from the harassed Chief Mate.
"Are you turned a ---- passenger, with your gloves and overcoat? You
sh'd have been here an hour ago! Get a move on ye, now, and bear a
hand with these w