fe found expression, first in
looks, and at last in words, which, indeed, were not needed, for my mother
had seen and understood long before I spoke.

And when my words found vent she was ready for them, and I learned how
firmly set upon her way may be a woman whom one had always looked upon as
gentlest of the gentle and retiring beyond most.

"Not that, Phil, not that. Anything but that. I would sooner see you in
your grave than a free-trader,"--which seemed to me an extreme view to take
of the matter, but I know now that she had her reasons, and that they were
all-sufficient for her.

My grandfather set his face against it also, though, indeed, my mother's
strong feeling would have been enough for me. He, however, being a man,
understood better, perhaps, what was in me, for he had been that way
himself, and he set himself to further my craving.

The only other openings were in the legitimate trading to foreign parts, or
service on a King's ship, or on a privateer, which latter business had come
to be of very great importance in the Islands. And between those three
there could not be any question which my mother and grandfather would
favour. For the perils of the sea are considerable in themselves, and are
never absent from any mother-heart in the Islands. But add to them the
harshness of the King's service and the possibilities of sudden death at
the hands of the King's enemies, and there was no doubt as to which way the
mother-heart would incline.

For myself, so hungry was I for wider doings, I would have put my neck
under the yoke sooner than not go at all, and when they saw that spread my
wings I must, they consented to my shipping on one of the Guernsey traders
to foreign parts, and my heart was lighter than it had been for many a day.

I was eighteen, tall and strong, and, thanks to my grandfather and Krok, a
capable seaman, so far as the limited opportunities of our little Island
permitted, and the rest would come easily, for all their teaching had given
me a capacity to learn.

That first parting from home and my mother and grandfather and Krok was a
terrible wrench, full as I was of the wonderful world I was going out to
see. I had never been away from them before, and the sight of my mother's
woeful attempts at cheerfulness came near to breaking me down, and remained
with me for many a day. In my eagerness for the wider life I had forgotten
the hole my going must make in hers. And yet I do not think sh