ht it was queer that I was over in New York, alone ... when he
came home from work, that evening....

I could keep my adventure to myself no longer. I told him all about my
going to sea. But did Duncan (my father) approve of it? Yes, I replied.
But when I refused to locate the ship I was sailing on, at first Jim
tried to bully me into telling. I didn't want my father to learn where I
was, in case he came over to find me ... and went up to Uncle Jim's....

Then he began laughing at me.

"You've always been known for your big imagination and the things you
make up ... I suppose this is one of them."

"Let the boy alone," my aunt put in, a little dark woman of French and
English ancestry, "you ought to thank God that he has enough imagination
to make up stories ... he might be a great writer some day."

* * * * *

"Imagination's all right. I'm not quarrelling with Johnnie for that. But
you can't be all balloon and no ballast."

They made me up a bed on a sofa in the parlour ... among all the
bizarre chairs and tables that Uncle Jim had made from spools ... Aunt
Lottie still made dresses now and again ... before she married Jim she
had run a dressmaking establishment.

Uncle Jim set a Big Ben alarm clock down on one of the spool tables for
me.

"I've set the clock for half-past three. That will give you half an hour
to make your hypothetical ship in ... you'll have to jump up and stop
the clock, anyhow. It'll keep on ringing till you do."

* * * * *

My first morning on shipboard was spent scrubbing cabin floors, washing
down the walls, washing dishes, waiting on the captain and mates' mess
... the afternoon, polishing brass on the poop and officers' bridge,
under the supervision of Karl, the former cabin boy.

"Well, how do you like it?" asked the cook, as he stirred something in a
pot, with a big wooden ladle.

"Fine! but when are we sailing?"

"In about three days we drop down to Bayonne for a cargo of White Rose
oil and then we make a clean jump for Sydney, Australia."

"Around Cape Horn?" I asked, stirred romantically at the thought.

"No. Around the Cape of Good Hope."

* * * * *

Early in the afternoon of the day before we left the dock, as I was
polishing brass on deck, my father appeared before me, as abruptly as a
spirit.

"Well, here he is, as big as life!"

"Hello, Pop!"

I straightened up to e