.. "there's nothing
like standing in good with an outfit you're to travel with ... and
here," he was rummaging in his inside pocket ... "put these in your
pocket and keep them there ... a bunch of Masonic cards of the lodge
your daddy belongs to ... if you ever get into straits, you'll stand a
better chance of being helped, as son of a Mason."
"No, Father," I replied, seriously and unhumorously, "I can't keep
them."
"I'd like to know why not?"
"I want to belong to the brotherhood of man, not the brotherhood of the
Masons."
He looked puzzled for a moment, then his countenance cleared.
"That's all right, Son ... you just keep those cards. They might come in
handy if you find yourself stranded anywhere."
When my father turned his back, with a thought almost prayerful to the
spirit of Shelley, I flung the Masonic cards overboard.
* * * * *
After dusk, the crew poured _en masse_ to the nearest waterfront saloon
with me. The ten dollars didn't last long.
* * * * *
"His old man has lots of money."
* * * * *
Our last night at the pier was a night of a million stars.
The sailmaker, with whom I had become well acquainted, waddled up to me.
He was bow-legged. He waddled instead of walked. We sat talking on the
foreward hatch...
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