I need not go back, with blood on my hands, to Pitcullo and my father.

I had money in my pouch, my mother's gold chain about my neck, a ship's deck under my foot, and the seas before me.

It was not hard for me to bargain with the shipmaster for a passage to Berwick, whence I might put myself aboard a vessel that traded to Bordeaux for wine from that country.

The sailors I made my friends at no great cost, for indeed they were the conquerors, and could afford to show clemency, and hold me to slight ransom as a prisoner of war.
So we lifted anchor, and sailed out of Eden-mouth, none of those on shore knowing how I was aboard the carrick that slipped by the bishop's castle, and so under the great towers of the minster and St.Rule's, forth to the Northern Sea.

Despite my broken head--which put it comfortably into my mind that maybe Dickon's was no worse--I could have laughed to think how clean I had vanished away from St.Andrews, as if the fairies had taken me.