"May I not go out for an hour, sir, and see what is going on in the harbour?" I asked, gently.
"No, sir," he replied, sharply; "such nonsense only leads to idleness--idleness to dissipation, and dissipation to ruin! That is the sliding-scale, young man----"
"I have always been kind and indulgent to you."
"Yes; more kind and indulgent than your father, my worthy partner, wishes--and more than he would be."
"What do you mean by 'query'?" he demanded in a bullying tone, for he intensely disliked me, fearing that I should soon be admitted into the firm.
"Because I have my doubts on the subject, and your refusal to grant me leave to-day confirms my opinion of you, Mr. Skrew."
"Very well; enough of this, not a word more, or by the first ship for Europe I will write what you'll wish had not been written. Not a word more."
"Engross these papers--but, first, go to the store on the wharf, and tell the keeper to speak with me; and look sharp!"
I put on my cap and left the counting-room, feeling assured that many a day would elapse ere I stood within it again, as I caught a glimpse of Paul Reeves, mate of the _Leda_, and two seamen, loitering outside; but near the window, wherein stood my desk, under the leaf of which I deposited a letter addressed to Mr. Skrew, informing him, in the parlance of Bob Hartly, that "I had slipped my cable and gone to sea."
"Captain Hartly's friend, sir?" said the mate, touching his hat, and winking knowingly.
"All right, sir! here is the cask, step in, and Tom Hammer, our carpenter, and his mate, will head you up in it comfortably in less than a minute."
"No one is near?" said I, anxiously glancing round the courtyard.
"Not a soul, sir: in you go, on with the head, Tom, and be quick, for the ice channel is cutting fast to the fairway; the jib and foretopsail are loose, and the lashings all but cast off."
The counting-room of Messrs. Manly and Skrew stood within a courtyard, which was entered by a gateway from Water-street; and from this court--which was formed by four large wooden stores, all pitched, tarred, and now coated with snow and ice--a path led down to the wharf, at the end of which, as at the end of all the others that jutted into the harbour, a mercantile flag was displayed from a mast. In this court were piles of old barrels, hampers, boxes, an anchor, a spare topmast or so, half buried under the usual white mantle, on which a flock of poor little snowbirds were hopping and twittering drearily.