, for he was about to make me a momentous offer.

"Ay ship you by easy ship, shore-going ship. No vatch, no heavy
veather, good times, _ja_. You thump mine roonar, you take his
voomans, so--you take his yob. _Ja_? You ship by the Knitting Swede?"

The eyelids drooped, and his gaze was again one of infantile innocence.
His fat smooth jowls quivered, as he waited with an expectant smile for
my answer.

I'll admit I was completely bowled over for a moment. A hush had
fallen upon the room. I heard a voice behind me exclaim softly and
bitterly, "Gaw' blimme, 'e's got it!" I knew the voice belonged to a
big Cockney who was, himself, an avowed candidate for the runner's job.
My mind was filled with confused, tingling thoughts. Oh, I was a man,
right enough, to be singled out by the Knitting Swede for his chief
lieutenancy. I was a hard case, a proper nut, to have that honor
offered me. For it _was_ an honor in sailordom. I thought of the
foc'sles to come, and my shipmates pointing me out most respectfully as
the fighting bloke who had been offered a chief runner's berth by the
Knitting Swede.

For I did not doubt there would be other foc'sles, and soon. Life
ashore at the Knitting Swede's was not for me. Young fool, I was, with
all the conceit of my years and inches. Yet I realized clearly enough
I would only be happy with the feel of a deck beneath my feet, and the
breath of open water in my nostrils. I was of the sea, and for the
sea. And if anything were needed to make my decision more certain,
there was the little Jewess. She leaned close, and there was more than
a hint of command in her voice. "Boy, say yes! I want you to, Boy!"

"Boy!" To me, a nineteen-year-old man, who had just been offered a
fighting man's berth! "I want you to," she commanded. I saw more
clearly just what the Swede's offer meant: to spend my days in evil
living, my drugged will twisted about the slim, dishonest fingers of
the wanton; to spend my nights carrying out whatever black rascality
the Swede might command. An ignoble slavery. Not for me!

"I'll only ship in a proper ship, Swede," I said, decisively.

The Swede nodded. My refusal did not disconcert him; I think his
insight had prepared him for it. But the tension in the room released
with a loud gasp of astonishment. It was unbelievable to those bullies
that such an offer could be turned down. A sailorman refusing
unlimited opportunities for getting drunk! "