bear me out with your widowed mother and your only
sister, sir, and with Master Fred's father, that I'm in duty bound to,
and promised to deliver safe and sound as return cargo, wind and
weather permitting."

"Oh, come home! come home!" reiterated Fred.

I stood speechless for a minute or two. All around and above me rose
the splendid masts, trellised with the rigging that I longed to climb.
The refreshing scent of tar mingled with the smells of the various
cargoes. The coming and going of men who came and went to and fro the
ends of the earth stirred all my pulses to restlessness. And above the
noises of their coming and going I heard the lapping of the water of
the incoming tide against the dock, which spoke with a voice more
powerful than that of Mr. Rowe.

And yet I went with him.

It was not because the canvas bag was empty, not because Fred would
not stay with me (for I had begun to think that the captain's grandson
was not destined to be the hero of exploits on the ocean), but when
Mr. Rowe spoke of my widowed mother and of Henrietta, he touched a
sore point on my conscience. I had had an uneasy feeling from the
first that there was something rather mean in my desertion of them.
Pride, and I hope some less selfish impulse, made me feel that I could
never be quite happy--even on the mainmast top--if I knew that I had
behaved ill to them.

I could not very well speak, but I turned round and began to walk in
the direction of the dock gates. Mr. Rowe behaved uncommonly kindly.
He said nothing more, but turned as if I had given the word of
command, and walked respectfully just behind me. I resolved not to
look back, and I did not. I was quite determined too about one thing:
Mr. Rowe should never be able to say he had seen me make a fool of
myself after I had made up my mind. But in reality I had very hard
work to keep from beginning to cry, just when Fred was beginning to
leave off.

I screwed up my eyes and kept them dry, however, but as we went
through the gate there came in a sailor with a little bundle like
ours, and a ship's name on his hat. His hat sat as if a gale were just
taking it off, and his sea-blue shirt was blown open by breezes that
my back was turned upon. In spite of all I could do one tear got
through my eyelashes and ran down, and I caught it on my lips.

It was a very bitter tear, and as salt as the salt, salt sea!

CHAPTER XIV.

A GLOW ON THE HORIZON--A FANTASTIC PEAL--WHAT I S