Then came the final wrench of dear old dad's last embrace and sad God-speed, after which the boat shoved off from the shore, bearing me, almost heart-broken, with all my belongings out to the _Josephine_, which anchored at the mouth of the harbour with her blue peter flying, her sails loosed, and every sign of departure.
"Cheer up, my sonny!" said Moggridge, my old friend the boatswain, as I sat in the stern of the boat with my face buried in my hands, for I had not the courage to look back at those I was leaving; "I thought you were a reg'lar chip of the old block, and your father told you mind, sir, to be a man." These words put me on my mettle, so I picked up a bit and waved my handkerchief to dad, whom I could see standing still gazing after me; and, when the boat got alongside the vessel, I clambered up the side- ladder instead of allowing myself to be hoisted in as before.
"That's your sort," said Moggridge, who followed me up closely, in order that he might catch me should I tumble back.

He also helped me into the entry port and on to the deck of the _Josephine_, where I found Captain Miles waiting to receive me.
"Ha, here you are at last, youngster!" he cried out in welcome.

"I thought you were never coming out, and that we would have to start without you.

Wind and tide, you know, wait for neither man or boy! Hoist in his traps, boatswain," he added to Moggridge, "and be as sharp as you can about it too, for the breeze is just beginning to come off the land." I may here mention a meteorological fact that Captain Miles subsequently explained to me.

He said that this regular alternation of the sea and land breeze in warm latitudes, as in the tropics generally, when the wind blows for so many hours in the day on and off-shore, is owing to the different powers for the radiation and absorption of heat possessed by land and water, so that when the day temperature is highest on the land the alternating breezes will be stronger, and _vice versa_.