With a quick toss of his head that meant he had made up his mind, Terry responded,—
"I'll go. I've nothin' to get. I'll go right on board now;" and springing into the shrouds, he swung himself lightly on to the deck.
The die was cast. Rather than face the consequences of his dereliction of duty he would take refuge in flight, leaving Tom Morley free to put as black a face upon his conduct as he pleased, thereby causing deep disappointment to those who had befriended him, and sore grief to his poor mother, who would be utterly at a loss to account for his strange disappearance.
It never entered into Captain Afleck's easy-going mind to inquire whether Terry ought to ask permission of somebody before taking service as cabin-boy on board his schooner. He himself had no family ties of any kind, and he took it for granted that other people were in the same position, unless they claimed something to the contrary. So when Terry jumped aboard the Sea-Slipper, thereby signifying acceptance of his offer, that was an end of the matter so far as he was concerned.
Once committed to the going away, Terry was all impatience for the schooner to start; and the stretching of the hour Captain Afleck had just mentioned into two gave him a good deal of concern, as every minute he dreaded the appearance of some clerk from Drummond's, perhaps even Mr. Hobart himself, sent to look after him.
He would have liked very much to have hidden in the cabin until the schooner had got well away from the wharf, but he was wise enough to realize that so doing might arouse the captain's suspicions, and lead him summarily to cancel the engagement.
However, at last his anxiety on this score was put at rest by the Sea-Slipper warping slowly out into the stream; and then, as the big sails were hoisted, and they bellied out with the afternoon breeze, she glided off on a tack across the harbour that soon put a wide distance between her and the wharves.
No fear of being followed now. Terry was as safe from that as though he were already in Boston; and in the mingled feelings with which, from the stern of the schooner, he watched the line of wharves losing their distinctness, and the rows of houses melting into one dark mass against the sloping, citadel-crowned hill, there was no small proportion of relief.
He had solved the problem so suddenly presented that afternoon in a very poor and unsatisfactory fashion, it is true. Still, it was solved for the present at least; and bearing in mind Terry's training and opportunities for moral culture, he must not be too hardly judged for the folly of his action.
By the time the fast-sailing schooner had passed Meagher's Beach Light, and was beginning to rise and pitch in the long ocean billows, Terry, with all the heedlessness of boyhood, had thrown his cares to the wind, and given himself up to the enjoyment of the hour.