I made him give me a muster certificate for one of his ships, the Hannah, which was lying in port and taking on a crew. I went to a seaman's supply store and bought a pair of overalls, a shirt, a blue and white blouse such as sailors wear, a cap, a blanket, and a mattress. The blanket and mattress I had sent to the Hannah. The clothing I took with me. I took a cab, and bade the driver go to the docks. Inside, I took off my naval uniform and packed it in the bag I had with me, and donned my sailor's togs. At my destination, I got out. The driver, a decent old fellow, opened his eyes wide.
"Are you the naval officer who got in?"
"Yes."
"Say, what are you going to do? You have changed your clothes so they won't recognize you when they find you. You are going to drown yourself."
Rather baffled, I tried to assure him that I had no intention of drowning myself.
"No, don't tell me that. I know what you are going to do. Please tell me your troubles. You should not throw away your young life like that."
I had to give him a long and convincing story about some confidential mission for the government that I was engaged in, the truth of which statement I had to swear to solemnly. Then he agreed to leave me and take my satchel back to the hotel. As he started his horse, he turned around once more imploringly.
"You are surely not going to do it?"
I rubbed my hands in the dirt, rehearsed my old-time rolling sailor's gait, and tried to forget my fine manners. I practised an especial bit to see if I could still light my pipe and spit like a jack-tar. Hands in pockets, I sauntered on to the ship.
"Ahoy there," I called to the mate, and handed him my muster certificate.