“I hope you will, Joe.  Will you write to me and tell me how you are getting on?”

“Bless your life, I can do no more than make my mark.  But maybe I’ll light on some scholard who’ll write down out of my mouth, and I’ll make him limn a barrel on the paper, and then you’ll know for sure ’tis me.”

This conversation had proceeded in whispers, but Joe’s whisper was sonorous, and I was in some fear lest Mistress Pennyquick, whose room was hard by, should hear the rumble and take alarm.  Yet I could not refrain from keeping him while I told of the matter so near my heart—­the offer of Captain Galsworthy to take me as a pupil.  Joe listened very sympathetically.

“’Tis an ill wind blows no one good,” he said.  “That there barrel makes a sailor of me; maybe ’tis to make a sojer of you.”

“And what of Cyrus Vetch?” I could not help saying.

“Ah!  Cyrus Vetch!” muttered Joe, looking troubled.  “I be afeared ’twill make him a downright enemy to you, lad.  But you’ll grow, and captain will learn you how to ply your fists, and when it comes to a fight, mind of my fighting name, and punch hard.”

Then, having promised to see his mother and do what I could to console her, I wrung his hand and wished him well, and he climbed out again by the window, and in the starlight I watched him carry the ladder across the yard; and then with a final wave of the hand he vanished into the night.

Chapter 3:  I Meet The Mohocks.

At breakfast I said nothing of Joe’s midnight visit, reckoning that it would not be long before the news of his flight got abroad.  It was indeed the subject of a great buzz of talk among my schoolfellows, who flocked about me as I walked down Castle Street, demanding to hear the full story from my own lips.  I could tell them nothing that they did not know, save only my leave-taking with Joe Punchard, which, of course, I had resolved to keep very close.  I learned from them that Cyrus was abed, and like to stay there, said Mr. Pinhorn, for a week or more.  His father was in a desperate rage, and had sent horsemen along all the roads in pursuit of the runaway, and I had some fear that my good friend would be caught and brought back to receive his punishment.

However, nothing had been heard of him by the time school was over, so that I had great hopes that he had got himself clean away.  I went to see his mother as I had promised, and said what I could to comfort her; but the good woman was mightily upset, and declared in a passion of weeping that she was sure she would never see her Joe again.