“The best thing that I can do is to go home again.”

“No, my dear Easy, the best thing that you can do is to stay in the service, for it will soon put an end to all such nonsensical ideas; and it will make you a clever, sensible fellow. The service is a rough, but a good school, where everybody finds his level—not the level of equality, but the level which his natural talent and acquirements will rise or sink him to, in proportion as they are plus or minus. It is a noble service, but has its imperfections, as everything in this world must have. I have little reason to speak in its favour, as far as I am concerned, for it has been hard bread to me, but there must be exceptions in every rule. Do not think of quitting the service until you have given it a fair trial. I am aware that you are an only son, and your father is a man of property, and, therefore, in the common parlance of the world, you are independent: but, believe me, no man, however rich, is independent, unless he has a profession, and you will find no better than this, notwithstanding—”

“What?”

“That you will be, most certainly, sent to the mast—head to—morrow.”

“We’ll argue that point,” replied Jack; “at all events, I will go and turn in to—night.”