“No! Here—at sea. Bart, there is no other home for me; no other hope but to have revenge!”
“Revenge, lad?”
“Ay, a bitter, cruel revenge. I could have been different. I was once full of love and hope before I knew what the world was like, but that’s all past and dead—yes, dead; and the dead yonder is looking toward me and asking me to remember what we have suffered.”
“But think.”
“Think, Bart? I have thought till my brain has seemed to burn; and everything points to revenge, and revenge I’ll have!”
“It’s the end of it all now,” said Bart, solemnly. “Let’s go back.”
“The way is open, Bart Wrigley. I have no hold upon you, and I can work alone. Go!”
“You wouldn’t talk like that,” said Bart, huskily, “if you was cool.”
“What do you mean, man?”
“’Bout me going,” said Bart, in a low, husky voice. “There’s only one way for me, and that’s where you go, lad. It allus has been, and it allus will be till I’m took. What are you going to do?”