“Running away from your ship, are you?”
“Yes,” I admitted promptly, “but I am willing to give you a good bargain, so what does that matter to you?”
He shook his head. “It might get me into trouble with the naval authorities,” he replied. “It’s risky business.”
“I don’t see how,” I retorted. “You can tell them I claimed to have surrendered my commission, or anything else you choose. They cannot blame you for making a good trade when you had the chance.”
He came slowly around his counter and looked my uniform carefully over. It was nearly new, and in excellent condition, and as he noted these facts the look in his eyes changed to one of greed.
“It’s risky, risky,” he replied, “and I can’t allow you much for the garments. But here is something I will give you for it,” and he led the way to the other side of the shop. From a shelf he took what had evidently been the suit of a farmer lad. It was of coarse material and well worn, yet neat and clean.
“I took this a week ago from a youngster who ran away to sea,” he explained; “now I’ll exchange with you to help you run away from the sea,” and he laughed at his attempt at facetiousness.
The clothes were not worth half those I was wearing, but I did not hesitate.
“I will do it,” I said. “Can I go into your back room and make the change?”
He assented, and led me into the rear room, leaving me alone, as another customer came in just then. I took the opportunity, while changing my clothing, to look over the state of my finances, finding I had five shillings and a sixpence. There was little likelihood of my earning any more and this sum, therefore, must last me until I could find a ship for home. So it was clear that whatever port I decided to go to, I must walk, in order to husband my little store.