"If it's yer luck to ever make 'Frisco once more, will you hunt up Matt McCarthy?
He's my old man.

He lives on the Hill, back of the Mayfair bakery, runnin' a cobbler's shop that everybody knows, and you'll have no trouble.

Tell him I lived to be sorry for the trouble I brought him and the things I done, and--and just tell him 'God bless him,' for me." I nodded my head, but said, "We'll all win back to San Francisco, Leach, and you'll be with me when I go to see Matt McCarthy." "I'd like to believe you," he answered, shaking my hand, "but I can't.
Wolf Larsen 'll do for me, I know it; and all I can hope is, he'll do it quick." And as he left me I was aware of the same desire at my heart.

Since it was to be done, let it be done with despatch.

The general gloom had gathered me into its folds.