Then came the day, two years ago, when, goaded by some injustice, real or imagined, he had run away to England and struck out alone and empty-handed to care for himself.

It had been a rough experience, and there were days that he was glad to forget; but through it all the taste of freedom had been sweet in his mouth.
For three weeks he had been hanging about the docks, picking up jobs here and there, accommodating any one who wanted to be accommodated, making many friends and little money.

He had had no thought of embarking until the big English liner _Great Britain_ arrived in port after breaking all records on her homeward passage.

She was to start on her second trip to-day, and an hour later her rival, the steamship _America_, was to take her departure.

The relative merits of the two vessels had been the talk of the wharf for days.
Sandy had made it a rule in life to be on hand when anything was happening.