“Jesus wep’t I say, ‘my mammy think I be daid.’  I couldn’t read nor write, an’ didn’t know how to tell noboddy how to back a letter to my mammy, so I jes’ let hit go, an’ we staht back de way we come.

“I thought hit be’n stormin’ all de time, but w’en we pahs thoo de Florida straits I see w’at a real storm’s like.  I didn’t know, ontell we was hahf way down de South American coast, headin fer Cape Horn, dat we done pahs Key West, but I couldn’t got off if I’d wanted to, ’cause I’d done jined de navy.

“Hit seem lak months ‘fore we roun’ de Cape an’ head back north on de Pacific, an’ hit seem lak a year ’fore we drop anchor in Hong Kong.  Dey tell me de admiral was stationed dere an’ de cap’n had to report to him.  W’ile he was doin’ dis, we gits shore leave.

“Wen Jack an’ me gits on land, we couldn’t onnerstan’ a word, but we mek signs, an’ a tough-lookin’ Chink motion fer us to foller him.  We go down a dark street an’ turn thoo an alley, then into a big room lighted with colored paper lanterns.  On de flo’ we see some folks sleepin’ wit some li’l footstools ’longside ’em, an some of ’em was smokin’ long-stemmed pipes.  I figger mebbe dey goin’ put us to sleep an’ knock us in de haid.  I look back an’ see de do’ swingin’ shut, slow like, so I run back an’ stick my foot in hit and shove hit back open.

“Jack an me run back de same way we come.  Pretty soon we find anotha sailor an’ go wit him to a yaller man dat could speak English.  He pin a li’l yaller flag on our shirts an’ say hit de badge o’ de Chinese gov’ment, an’ we be safe, cause we b’long to de U.S. navy.

“We go out to see de sights, but nevah hear one mo’ word o’ English; so ahftah a time we go back to de ship an’ stay ontell we put to sea again.

“Nex’ we sails fo’ Panama.  W’en we ties up dere, Jack an’ me goes ashore.  Ah nevah befo’ see such pretty high-yaller gals in all my life.  Looks lak dey made o’ marble, dey so puffick.

“Me an’ Jack gits likkered up de fust thing, an’ I done lose ’im.  Dat worry me some, ‘cause we need each otha.  Wit’ his haid an’ my arms we mek one pretty good man.  Dat lil Irishman was a fightin’ fool.  Weighed only 90 pounds, but strong an’ wiry.  Co’se he git licked mos’ do time, but he allus ready fer anotha fight.

“Didn’t lak for folks to call him Irish.  ’He fodder was Irish and he mudder American,’ he say; ’I be’n born aboard a Dutch brig in French waters.  Now you tell me what flag I b’longs undah.’

“Wen we gits back to de ship, de boys tells me some English sailors beat Jack up in de sportin’ house.  Sumbuddy sing out ’Beat it—­de marines comin’!, an’ dey all run for de ship an leff Jack dere.

“I don’t ahsk no mo’ questions; jes’ start back on a run to find my buddy.  At dat time I weigh 180, an’ was pretty husky fer my age.  Bein’ likkered plenty, I nevah thought ‘bout gittin’ beat up mahse’f.

“W’en I gits back, dere was a big Limey stahndin’ wid his arms crost de do’.  ‘All dem in, stay in, an’ all de outs stay out,’ he say.