overflow the cabin. He felt the force of a stout sea boot not a few
times in learning the golden rubric of the tramp steamer's cabin boy.

"Drevis" was a strange name to the English seamen, and they christened
him "Tommy," and that handle turns him still.

Tommy's blue eyes and honest Netherland grin and easy temper kept him
friendly with all the world. The winds of chance sent him scudding about
the globe, a true casual of the seas. His first voyage as A.B. was on
the _Fernfield_ in 1911, and there he met a certain Scotch engineer.
This engineer had a habit of being interested in human problems, and
Tommy's guileless phiz attracted him. Under his tutelage Tommy acquired
a thirst for promotion, and soon climbed to the rank of quartermaster.

One thing that always struck Tommy was the number of books the engineer
had in his cabin. A volume of Nat Gould, Ouida or "The Duchess" would be
the largest library Tommy would have found in the other bunks; but here,
before his wondering gaze, were Macaulay, Gibbon, Gorki, Conrad,
Dickens, Zola, Shakespeare, Montaigne, Chaucer, Shaw, and what not. And
what would Master Tommy have said had he known that his friend, even
then, was working on a novel in which he, Tommy, would play an important
rôle!

The years went by. On sailing ships, on steam tramps, on private yachts,
as seaman, as quartermaster, as cook's helper, Tommy drifted about the
world. One day when he was twenty years old he was rambling about New
York just before sailing for Liverpool on the steam yacht _Alvina._ He
was one of a strictly neutral crew (the United States was still neutral
in those days) signed on to take a millionaire's pet plaything across
the wintry ocean. She had been sold to the Russian Government (there