"Of course, but sail only."
"We-e-ell," the captain gave him a searching glance, "I guess you'll
do. You look bright. I'll sign you as an A.B. How's that?" McKenzie
replied in acceptance.
"Alright, Mister, sign him up!" Then to Donald he said, "Get your
clothes and get down aboard the ship right away. We're ready to sail.
Hurry now."
Donald had only time to run to his hotel, collect his sea kit and pay
the bill. Judson was out, but he scribbled a note to him and left it
on the dressing table. "Confound it!" he muttered, as he walked down
to the dock. "I didn't expect to get hustled out like this. And I was
looking forward so much to that tea to-night. Now it's all off and I
haven't even got a chance to telephone her. Hang the luck!"
That evening he was eating his tea in the starboard fo'c'sle of a big
freighter, in company with an all-nation gang of deck-hands, and the
place was swinging to the roll of the off-shore swell, while the
shores of Nova Scotia were fading away in the dim distance astern as
the propeller drove the steamer for Glasgow and his mother.