fide in him the change about to take place
in my life, so that, if the Rawlings went down in a gale, my friends
might have the limited satisfaction of knowing what had become of me.

Pepper shook his head discouragingly, and sought in every way to
dissuade me from the step. He drew a disenchanting picture of the
existence of a cabin-boy, whose constant duty (according to Pepper) was
to have dishes broken over his head whenever the captain or the mate
chanced to be out of humor, which was mostly all the time. But nothing
Pepper said could turn me a hair's-breadth from my purpose.

I had little time to spare, for the advertisement stated explicitly that
applications were to be made in person within four days. I trembled
to think of the bare possibility of some other boy snapping up that
desirable situation.

It was on Monday that I stumbled upon the advertisement. On Tuesday my
preparations were completed. My baggage--consisting of four shirts, half
a dozen collars, a piece of shoemaker's wax, (Heaven knows what for!)
and seven stockings, wrapped in a silk handkerchief--lay hidden under a
loose plank of the stable floor. This was my point of departure.

My plan was to take the last train for Boston, in order to prevent the
possibility of immediate pursuit, if any should be attempted. The train
left at 4 P.M.

I ate no breakfast and little dinner that day. I avoided the Captain's
eye, and wouldn't have looked Miss Abigail or Kitty in the face for the
wealth of the Indies.

When it was time to start for the station I retired quietly to the
stable and uncovered my bundle. I lingered a moment to kiss the white
star on Gypsy's forehead, and was nearly unmanned when the little animal
returned the caress by lapping my cheek. Twice I went back and patted
her.

On reaching the station I purchased my ticket with a bravado air that
ought to have aroused the suspicion of the ticket-master, and hurried to
the car, where I sat fidgeting until the train shot out into the broad
daylight.

Then I drew a long breath and looked about me. The first object that
saluted my sight was Sailor Ben, four or five seats behind me, reading
the Rivermouth Barnacle!

Reading was not an easy art to Sailor Ben; he grappled with the sense of
a paragraph as if it were a polar-bear, and generally got the worst of
it. On the present occasion he was having a hard struggle, judging by
the way he worked his mouth and rolled his eyes. He had evidently