“Here,” he said, “this is the satchel, Martin. Keep the straps drawn tight always. Don't take it off till you give it into Mr. Blick's hands. His own hands, remember. Don't take it off even at night. When you lie down, lash it around your neck with spun-yarn.” All this I promised most faithfully to do. “But,” I said, examining the satchel, which was like an ordinary small old weather-beaten satchel for carrying books, “where are the letters, sir?”
“Sewn into the double,” he answered. “You wouldn't be able to sew so neatly as that. Would you, now?”
“Oh, yes, I should, sir,” I replied. “I am a pretty good hand with a sail-needle. The Oulton fishermen used to teach me the stitches. I can do herring-bone stitch. I can even put a cringle into a sail.”
“You're the eighth wonder of the world, I think,” Mr. Jermyn said. “But choose, now. Choose a kit for yourself. You won't get a chance to change your clothes till you get to Mr. Blick's if you don't take some from here. So just look round the room here. Take whatever you want.”
I felt myself to have been fairly well equipped by the stranger who had made me change my clothes in the alley. But I knew how cold the Channel may be even in June; so I chose out two changes of thick underwear. Weapons I had no need for, with the armory already in my belt; but a heavy tarred jacket with an ear-flap collar was likely to be useful, so I chose that instead. It was not more than ten sizes too large for me; that did not matter; at sea one tries to keep warm; appearances are not much regarded. Last of all, when I had packed my satchel, I noticed a sailor's canvas “housewife” very well stored with buttons, etc. I noticed that it held what is called a “palm,” that is, the leather hand-guard used by sail-makers for pushing the needle through sail cloth. It occurred to me, vaguely, that such a “housewife” would be useful, in case my clothes got torn, so I stuffed it into my satchel with the other things. I saw that it contained a few small sail-needles (of the kind so excellent as egg-borers) as well as some of the strong fine sail-twine, each thread of which will support a weight of fifty pounds. I put the housewife into my store with a vague feeling of being rich in the world's goods, with such a little treasury of necessaries; I had really no thought of what that chance impulse was to do for me.
“Are you ready?” Mr. Jermyn asked.
“Yes, sir. Quite ready.”
“Take this blank drawing-book,” he said, handing me a small pocket-book, in which a pencil was stuck. “Make a practice of drawing what you see. Draw the ships. Make sketches of the coast. You will find that such drawings will give you great pleasure when you come to be old. They will help you, too, in impressing an object on your mind. Drawing thus will give you a sense of the extraordinary wonder of the universe. It will teach you a lot of things. Now let's be off. It's time we were on board.”
When we went out of the house we were joined by three or four seamen who carried cases of bottles (probably gin bottles). We struck off towards the ship together at a brisk pace, singing one of those quick-time songs with choruses to which the sailors sometimes work. The song they sang was that very jolly one called “Leave her, Johnny.” They made such a noise with the chorus of this ditty that Mr. Jermyn was able to refresh my memory in the message to be given to Mr. Blick.
The rain had ceased before we started. When we came into the square, we saw that cressets, or big flaming port-fires, had been placed along the wharf, to give light to some seamen who were rolling casks to the barquentine. A little crowd of idlers had gathered about the workers to watch them at their job; there may have been so many as twenty people there. They stood in a pretty strong, but very unsteady light, by which I could take stock of them. I looked carefully among them for the figure of a young man in a grey Spanish hat; but he was certainly not there. The barquentine had her sails loosed, but not hoisted. Some boats were in the canal ahead, ready to tow her out. She had also laid out a hawser, by which to heave herself out with her capstan. I could see at a glance that she was at the point of sailing. As we came up the plank-gangway which led to her deck we were delayed for a moment by a seaman who was getting a cask aboard.