But I am writing—writing. Already both Chauncey Gale and my Uncle Nicholas have looked in to say that Captain Biffer is ready to cast off, while Edith, who sits by to read as I finish these last lines, whispers that the messenger boy is eagerly afraid we are going to carry him away with us.
There came to me last night, once more, the old childhood dream of blue water and white sails.
And the tide still calls, and the wind is fair, and I am going back to the sea.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
- Silently corrected typographical errors.
- Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.