eyes on his son.

"Please, faither, I--"

"Doan't say naught. You'm so fond of it that I judges you'd best begin
fightin' the battle o' life right on end. 'Tain't no use keepin' you to
schule no more. 'Tis time you comed aboard."

Tom crowed with satisfaction, and Mrs. Tregenza sighed and stopped eating.
This event had been hanging over her head for many a long day now; but she
had put the thing away, and secretly hoped that after all Tregenza would
change his mind and apprentice the boy to a shore trade. However, Tom had
made his choice, and his father meant him to abide by it. No other life
appealed to the boy; heredity marked him for the sea, and he longed for the
hard business to begin.

"I'll larn you something besides fisticuffs, my beauty. 'Tis all
well-a-fine, this batterin' an' bruisin', but it awnly breeds the savage in
'e, same as raw meat do in a dog. No more fightin' 'cept wi' dirty weather
an' high seas an' contrary winds, an' the world, the flaish an' the devil.
I went to sea as a lugger-bwoy when I was eight year old, an' ain't bin off
the water more'n a month to wance ever since. This day two week you come
along wi' me. That'll give mother full time to see 'bout your kit."

Joan wept, Thomasin Tregenza whined, and Tom danced a break-down and rolled
away to see some fisher-boy friends in the harbor before school began. Then
Michael, calling his daughter to him, walked with her among his plum-trees,
talked of God with some quotations, and looked at his pigs. Presently he
busied himself and made ready for sea in a little outhouse where paint and
ship's chandlery were stored; and finally, the hour then being half past