mean-faced beggar, and the way in which the Knitting Swede put us on
board the _Golden Bough_. Surprising incidents. But this refusal of
my new shipmate to drink with me was most surprising. Think of a
sailor, a hard case, too, moping alone in his room on the day he
shipped, when downstairs he could wassail away the day. I was
surprised and resentful. It is hard for a nineteen-year-old man to
stand alone, and I felt that Newman, my shipmate, should give me the
moral support of his companionship.

I strutted away the day in lonely glory. I had not the courage to
violate the hoary traditions of the foc'sle and join my ship sober, so
I imbibed as steadily as my youthful stomach permitted. Towards
evening I was, as sailors say, "half seas over."

I was mellow, but not befuddled. I saw things clearly, too clearly.
Of a sudden I felt an urgent necessity to get away from the Swede's
barroom. I wanted to breathe a bit of fresh air, I wanted to shut out
from my mind the sights and sounds and smells of the groggery, the reek
and the smut and the evil faces. Above all, I wished to escape the
importunities of the little Jewess. She had gotten upon my nerves.
Oh, I was her fancy boy to-day, you bet! I was spending my advance
money, you see, and this was her last chance at my pocketbook.

So, when opportunity offered, I slipped away from the crowd unobserved,
and went rolling along East street as though that thoroughfare belonged
to me. And in truth it did. Aye, I was the chesty lad, and my step
was high and proud, during that stroll. For men hailed me, and pointed
me out. I was the rough, tough king of the beach that hour; I was the
lad who had whipped the Knitting Swede's bully, and shipped in the
_Golden Bough_.