Repairing to the ship's long-boat, Which soon was in the surf afloat, I bade farewell to Russian soil In language not intensely loyal. They ministered to my distress, From ample stores of food and dress, Performed such acts of kindness then As might beseem large-hearted men; Nor was there aught perfunctory In their solicitude for me; Their acts were of their own accord, Without suspicion of reward. [Illustration: "The noble spruce and stately fir Stood draped in feathery garniture." _See page 119._] Although possessed of little skill In nautical affairs, to fill [Blank Page] A seaman's watch I volunteered, As we toward Arctic waters steered, Pursuant of the spouting whale; I plied each task with rope and sail, And ere we reached a harbor bar, Was rated as a first-class tar; By sufferance of as brave a crew As ever sailed a voyage through, The two succeeding years I passed In northern seas before the mast; Two years from that eventful day We moored in San Francisco Bay. I bade the sea farewell for aye, Bade my deliverers good-bye, With fervent pressure of the hand, Then straight betook myself to land. * * * * * Seeking a home with freedom blest, I've cast my fortunes with the West." IX. CONCLUSION Concluding, he resumed his seat Beside his brother, Russian Pete; Yet ever and anon expressed His views on points of interest, And details, which this narrative In its abridgment may not give, As Dad McGuire and Uncle Jim By turns interrogated him. To say his hearers listened well, Were too self-evident to tell, For some who dozed before he spake, Woke up and then remained awake. As all the inclination felt, To play a game, the cards were dealt; The winners, it was understood, To be exempt from chopping wood; While he who made the lowest score Must build the fire and sweep the floor. Time spread his wings, the moments flew Unheeded for an hour or two, Until at length the measured stroke Of twelve, in timely accents broke From an old clock upon the shelf, As old as Uncle Jim himself; A good old clock, as old clocks go, But usually too fast or slow, But near enough the proper time To serve the purpose of this rhyme. The honors passed to Russian Pete, When Dad McGuire sustained defeat, As mighty warriors often do, In some Chalons, or Waterloo; The fortunes of the final game, Adding fresh laurels to his fame; Then all abstained from further play, And forthwith put the cards away. * * * * *