In the first place, I took a large sail-needle and some heavy-thread and I sewed two pairs of his trousers and two of his coats up the middle of the legs and arms, so he couldn’t put them on, at least right away.  I picked up hammer and nails and nailed his shoes and sea-boots securely to the middle of his cabin floor.  Under his pillow I found a full flask of brandy.  I emptied half ... when I replaced it, it was full again.  But I had not resorted to the brandy cask to fill it.

* * * * *

The apprehension that I might be come upon flagrante delictu gave me a shiver of apprehension.  But it was a pleasurable shiver.  I enjoyed the malicious wantonness of my acts, and my prospective jump into the unknown ... all the South Seas waited for me ... all the world!

But, though every moment’s delay brought detection and danger nearer, I found time for yet one more stroke.  With a laughable vision of Schantze smashing Miller all over the cabin, I wrote and left this note pinned on the former’s pillow: 

     Dear Captain:—­

By the time you read this letter I will be beyond your reach (then out of the instant’s imagination ...  I had not considered such a thing hitherto).  I am going far into the interior and discover a gold mine.  When I am rich I shall repay you for the cavalry pistols which I am compelled to confiscate in lieu of my wages, which I now forfeit by running away, though entitled to them.

     You have been a good captain and I like you.

As for Miller, he is beneath my contempt.  It was he who drank all your wines, brandies, and whiskies ... the sailmaker is to answer for your beer.  The second mate has been in on this theft of your liquors, too (I left the cook out because he had been nice to me).

     Good-bye, and good luck.

     Your former cabin boy, and, though you may not believe me, always
     your well-wisher and friend,

JOHN GREGORY.

I left what I had stolen bundled up in my blanket.  I walked forward nonchalantly to see if anyone was out to observe me.  I discovered the sandy-haired Blacksmith, Klumpf, sitting on the main hatch.  I saw that I could not pass him with my bundle without strategy.  The strategy I employed was simple.

I drew him a bottle of brandy.  I gave it to him.  After he had drawn a long drink I told him I was running away from the ship.  He laughed and took another drink.  I passed him with my bundle.  He shouted good-bye to me.

Before I had gone by the nose of the old ship, who should I run into but Klaus, coming back from a spree.  He was pushing along on all fours like an animal, he was so drunk ... good, simple Klaus, whom I liked.  I laid down my bundle, risking capture, while I helped him to the deck.  He stopped a moment to pat the ship’s side affectionately as if it were a living friend, or nearer, a mother.