"
"I'd rather have yourself, Ericson," said the officer. "Just think
about it, will you? It's a good opening for you, and you may yet
reach the quarterdeck and become an admiral, and fly your own
pennant before you're as old as Davie Flett. Let me know as soon as
you decide. But if you can't join us, send your friend. Good
evening!"
As the young lieutenant walked away with a great clattering of his
long sword, I looked at his laced cocked hat and his epaulettes,
and fancied myself in a similar uniform. However, my native
simplicity came to my rescue, and, good as this opportunity of
serving my Queen appeared, I yet thought fondly of the pilot's
busy, perilous life. Something told me that it was my destiny to be
a pilot, as my fathers for three generations had been before me.
I went into Oliver Gray's inn, and there found my skipper, Davie
Flett, awaiting me. He was talking with a little old man, whom I
soon recognized as Isaac the Dutch Jew, who had bought the viking's
ruby from Tom Kinlay. When I entered, Isaac retired to a far corner
of the parlour and watched me closely as I talked with Captain
Flett.
"When do we sail, captain?" I asked, as I sat down beside the
skipper.
"Tomorrow night," said he.
And I judged that I should now have to determine without delay
which of the three appointments I should take--remain with Flett,
join the revenue cutter, or become a pilot.
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