But I mustn't dwell on this, for the brig _Revenge_ was all this while bearing me away from the real scene of my story. Indeed, the story of this time is Dirk's rather than mine, though there would be enough to fill a book if it weren't clean out of the course of my narrative. Suffice it to say that I grew bigger and stronger and browner. Also for some months I was strangely subject to moods which puzzled even myself. For though knowing I was behaving badly I would for days at a stretch have no word for a soul on board, often scowling at Dirk himself, when my heart was longing for the rough and kindly converse that was customary between us. Sometimes too I felt forced against my will to speak glumly and even angrily, for there seemed to be a stupid crying at my heart, and I was mortally afraid that a kind word would set me blubbering. So in self-defence I gave sharp words that sharp words might be returned. At night when I was curled up in my blankets I would sometimes cry myself to sleep, cursing myself for a baby, but unable to restrain my tears. For at times a desolating sense of loneliness overpowered me; the image of my father would rise before me, and I would stretch out my arms to him to clasp but a mocking emptiness of air. And then I would rock myself upon my bunk, that the noise might cover the sound of my sobbing; and my thoughts would turn to Jenny, and with the memory of her I would feel vaguely comforted and sink to sleep. However, these moods were transitory merely, and little by little I mastered them till gradually they became rare, and at last my spirit came out into the sunshine. But I have recorded them because I think they kept alive in me the fluttering purpose to be revenged upon my own and Jenny's enemy. For it seemed to me that my sufferings were due to the cloud that had clung about my childhood. The shadow of fear had left my heart troubled and uncertain, and I felt there would be no real peace for me till the evil were rotted right out of my life. And with Jenny it was the same. Her life, too, would be perpetually darkened unless I could clear her path as well as my own of the gloom that lay upon it. But my purpose became chastened from hate or revenge to one of duty, till I felt that whether I would or not my destiny would call and I would have to rise and meet it. So I kept my knife sharpened and my pistol primed, and practised daily at both weapons till hand and eye were as one thing working in unison. And the days went by with sun and storm, and I increased in knowledge of sailor-craft and in love and understanding of the sea.