THE FATTED CALF. 27 



Yes, I. A truce to disguises ! The Prodigal 

 was myself, or the self that was then — Charlie 

 Robbins, as they all called me — Capn'n Robbins, 

 as they call me today. 



To resume (and with an easier conscience) I, 

 Charlie Robbins, cabin-boy, was thinking that 

 Dorothy was the sweetest girl in the world, that 

 I had made a profound impression upon her, and 

 that my life would be an arid waste if I let her 

 escape me. She was so distractingly pretty, and 

 so dangerously clever. I remembered that when 

 I bade her good-bye five years ago she was a year 

 younger than I. Gratifying reflection — she must 

 be so, still ! 



I was building air-castles. 



I knew I must move rapidly. Girls are so dif- 

 ferent from whales — at least to whalemen. For 

 you get fast to a whale and if he runs, you run ; 

 or if he goes down, you wait till he comes up 

 again. Barring accidents, it's only a matter of 

 time till you kill him or he kills you. But with 

 girls its more complicated. Sometimes you're not 

 fast to them when you think you are. Sometimes 

 they go down and never come up again. And 

 when you're a whaleman you've little time for 

 courting. The stay in a home port is shockingly 

 short. That ship in the harbor won't lay her 



