I did as he said, and on my return he took me to a building at the head of the wharf, in the front part of which was the merchant’s office, and in the story above, a great loft full of whaling gear and a great many other things which the vessels had brought home from far islands in the Pacific Ocean. There was a boat like a canoe, only larger and better shaped. It was different from anything I had ever seen, and was made by savages on distant shores. Then there were paddles beautifully made, with carvings done, the shipkeeper told me, with shark’s teeth and bits of sea shells. There were lots of war clubs and spears and strange-looking tools and utensils. I wanted to ship on a vessel at once and sail for the Pacific Ocean. “Here, boy,” said the shipkeeper, “give me your basket and pail.” He reached down into a great cask set on end and took out three large objects, each about the size of a football. “These are coconuts with the husks on. When you get home take a hatchet and cut off the husks and you’ll find the coconut.” Then he put a big dipper down into another cask and took up a lot of pickled limes and poured them into the pail. This he repeated several times. “There, boy,” he said, “now take them things home, if you can carry them. But don’t you tell any other boys that you got them things here, for, if you do, we’ll be pestered by all the boys in town.” When I reached home with my prizes and showed them to my mother, the good woman looked troubled. I had often told her that I wanted to go to sea and she had done all she could to discourage me. I now renewed my desire, and, when my father came home, she took the matter up with him, and they both told me how hard the sailor’s life was and how little money there was in it. “Yes, I know, father,” I said, “but haven’t you taken me on your knee and told me all about your own voyage and the strange places you went to?” “Yes, my dear son, but I didn’t tell you about the unpleasant things and the hardships a sailor has to put up with.” My home was a happy one, and I was the only child. No one ever had a better mother. My father was a good man and a model parent. He earned fair wages and provided well for his little family. Why should I be discontented? Because, like many a boy, I was unreasonable. Yet, was I wholly to blame? Life in a seaport town appeals to the fancy of a boy. Longfellow wrote, I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free; And Spanish sailors with bearded lips And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea, And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still: “A boy’s will is the wind’s will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”