“Don’t you worry, she’ll come back soon,” said I soothingly, though I must admit that I had my misgivings, which proved only too true.
I went alone to see Father O’Leary. The old priest took my hand and blessed me, wishing me all kinds of luck, and I felt quite affected by his fatherly manner. Next day the _Sea Swallow_ sailed. I had a mind to persuade Grimes to stow away when he bade me good-bye. His big, scrubby face looked very serious as he said: “You’re a-coming back with the boat, I s’pose?”
“Yes, Grimes, you’ll see me again, don’t you fret,” I replied.
The impecunious beach fraternity gave me a hearty send-off. Uncle Sam, the Dude, the jockey, O’Hara, the jovial Scot and the rest came down to the beach as the anchor went up and gave me one final “Hurrah!”
Though I’d been elevated to the Marquesan peerage more than once, and crowned with heathen honours, I felt mighty proud as those wild-looking white men waved their wide-brimmed sombreros and cheered and cheered. I felt that I had accomplished something in my life, something creditable, and almost unhoped for in my schoolboy dreams.
I had played their old songs on my violin; recited _The Prisoner of Chillon_; written love letters to relatives and far-away wives, Penelopes, faithless damsels and longing daughters, and, notwithstanding their fascinating persuasions, had only become slightly, jovially, inebriated twice, and by so doing had earned their undying respect. Ah me! I well knew that my mother, my sisters and old austere Aunt M—— would have swooned away at the very thought of my mixing with such terrible men. But what knew they of the great world, of adventure and all that appealed to the heart of sanguine youth?
But to return to the voyage of the _Sea Swallow_. I stood on deck and watched the forests dwindle, as the shores of Nuka Hiva receded, and we cut away out into the Pacific. While the skipper swore, the mountain peaks became lower and lower, till they looked like big jewels sparkling on the horizon astern, twinkling softly in the light of the setting sun.
The _Sea Swallow_ was a tramp steamer, carrying sail to steady her, for she rolled like a ball on a rough sea.
I never met a more jovial skipper than Captain C——. He had his drawbacks, but could swear well, and thought he was something of a genius on the violin. When he was half-seas-over he _could_ play—a jig.