"There was no keeping of me straight, try it anyhow you like. I bolted
from home, I bolted from school, I bolted from aboard ship--"
"Why? What for?"
"Partly because I was a bitter bad 'un, and partly because of a letter
I picked up in port, at the Brazils, at the end of a long cruise.
Here's the letter--but it's no good showing it to you: the paper's so
grimed and tore about, you can't read it."
"Who wrote it? Mary?"
"No: father--saying what had happened to Mary, and telling me not to
come back home till things was pulled straight again. Here--here's what
he said--under the big grease-spot. 'If you can get continued
employment anywhere abroad, accept it instead of coming back. Better
for you, at your age, to be spared the sight of such sorrow as we are
now suffering.' Do you see that?"
"Yes, yes, I see. Ah! poor man! he couldn't give no kinder better
advice; and you--"
"Deserted from my ship. The devil was in me to be off on the tramp, and
father's letter did the rest. I got wild and desperate with the thought
of what had happened to Mary, and with knowing they were ashamed to see
me back again at home. So the night afore the ship sailed for England I
slipped into a shore-boat, and turned my back on salt-junk and the
boatswain's mate for the rest of my life.
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