himself? But what should he do?

He wanted to go to sea. His brother Lawrence, and even his mother,
thought that this might be the best thing.

A bright boy like George would not long be a common sailor. He would
soon make his way to a high place in the king's navy. So, at least, his
friends believed.

And so the matter was at last settled. A sea-captain who was known to
the family, agreed to take George with him. He was to sail in a short
time.

The day came. His mother, his brothers, his sisters, were all there to
bid him good-bye. But in the meanwhile a letter had come to his mother,
from his uncle who lived in England.

"If you care for the boy's future," said the letter, "do not let him go
to sea. Places in the king's navy are not easy to obtain. If he begins
as a sailor, he will never be aught else."

The letter convinced George's mother--it half convinced his
brothers--that this going to sea would be a sad mistake. But George,
like other boys of his age, was headstrong. He would not listen to
reason. A sailor he would be.

The ship was in the river waiting for him. A boat had come to the
landing to take him on board.

The little chest which held his clothing had been carried down to the