“I gave a yell up to the bridge, bent a line on to a stanchion, took hold of one end of it, and slipped over the side. I could swim quite a bit in those days, but I didn’t fancy paddling around in the North Sea under such conditions without something to hang on to the old ship by. I couldn’t see a thing, but presently I touched a man’s head. I got one arm round him and when we were heaved on board we found it was the pilot. He’d got a nasty bump on the forehead, and was dazed for a while, but he came round after the skipper had given him a stiff glass of grog. We never saw anything of the other men. Before we dropped the pilot he gave me these binoculars that he had in his overcoat pocket, saying he’d made up his mind to retire anyhow, and reckoned he could take a hint from the sea as well as any man.” At times Dave felt almost bursting with the desire to tell one of his school friends the wonderful thing that was to happen on the following Thursday, but he kept his own counsel and waited as patiently as he could. On his last night at home he wrote two letters, one to his father and one to Aunt Martha. The first ran: Dear Dad: I couldn’t wait, and I’m going to sea. Please forgive me. I’ll take good care of the binoculars and write to you often. Your loving son, DAVID. He propped the two letters up against the clock on the mantelpiece and then went to bed in his own room for the last time, after packing his few possessions in an old suitcase. Dave hardly dared close his eyes lest he should sleep too long. Before it was light he slipped on his clothes. The stairs creaked as he walked down them in his stocking-feet, with his shoes in one hand and the suitcase in the other. He dreaded waking either his father or Aunt Martha, and yet had to fight with a desire to say good-by to them. He had to bite his lips hard and a lump came into his throat when he passed his father’s door. The lock and bolt on the front door took an eternity to manipulate in the dark. His fingers seemed to be all thumbs. He had never noticed before how much noise the key made in that lock. He wondered vaguely how long it would be before he turned it again. Quite a lot had to happen before then. The lump in his throat grew bigger. Not until he had closed the door ever so softly, and stood on the path, did he realize exactly how dear home was to him, or what a lot Aunt Martha had done for him in her prim fashion. The great adventure was starting. No, it had actually started! From that moment onwards he was to be a wage-earner and a sailor. For three hours Dave waited on the wharf, until there were signs of life on the _Pacific Queen_. When Captain Chisholm turned out of his berth he was told there was a boy waiting to see him. “A boy!” he said. “What does he want?” “Says you told him to come, sir. He’s been on deck since four o’clock.”