nsequence. He became
enthusiastic over the sea as a profession for fathers, and gave himself
some airs over acquaintances less fortunately placed. In the first flush
of liberty he took to staying away from school, the education thus lost
being only partially atoned for by a grown-up style of composition
engendered by dictating excuses to the easy-going Mrs. Kingdom.

At seventeen he learnt, somewhat to his surprise, that his education was
finished. His father provided the information and, simply as a matter of
form, consulted him as to his views for the future. It was an important
thing to decide upon at short notice, but he was equal to it, and, having
suggested gold-digging as the only profession he cared for, was promptly
provided by the incensed captain with a stool in the local bank.

[Illustration: "A stool in the local bank."]

He occupied it for three weeks, a period of time which coincided to a day
with his father's leave ashore. He left behind him his initials cut
deeply in the lid of his desk, a miscellaneous collection of cheap
fiction, and a few experiments in book-keeping which the manager
ultimately solved with red ink and a ruler.

A slight uneasiness as to the wisdom of his proceedings occurred to him
just before his father's return, but he comforted himself and Kate with
the undeniable truth that after all the captain couldn't eat him. He was
afraid, however, that the latter would be displeased, and, with a
constitutional objection to unpleasantness, he contrived to be out when
he returned, leaving to Mrs. Kingdom the task of breaking the news.

The captain's reply was brief and to the point. He asked his son whether
he would like to go to sea, and upon receiving a decided answer in the
negative, at once took steps to send him there. In two days he had
procured him an outfit, and within a week Jack Nugent, greatly to his own
surprise, was on the way to Melbourne as apprentice on the barque _Silver
Stream_.

He liked it even less than the bank. The monotony of the sea was
appalling to a youth of his tastes, and the fact that the skipper, a man
who never spoke except to find fault, was almost loquacious with him
failed to afford him any satisfaction. He liked the mates no better than
the skipper, and having said as much one day to the second officer, had
no reason afterwards to modify his opinions. He lived a life apart, and
except for the cook, another martyr to fault-finding, had no soc