That night he hardly slept. He
was in the throes of making a tremendous resolution, he who, for
forty years, had been tied to his mother's apron string. Making it
of his own volition, unprompted, at the behest of no one save,
perhaps, the man in the car, asserting at last his manhood in
defiance of the subjection that had never come home to him until
that moment. He rose in the morning, pale and determined. He felt
a hypocrite through and through as his mother commented on his
looks and grew anxious as he pushed away his untasted breakfast.
It came over him afresh how good she was, how tender. He did not
love her less because his great purpose had been taken. He knew
how she would suffer, and the thought of it racked his heart; he
was tempted to take her into his confidence, but dared not,
distrusting his own powers of resistance were she to say no. So he
kissed her instead, with greater warmth than usual, and left the
house with misty eyes.
He got an extension of the noon hour and hurried down to the naval
recruiting office. It was doing a brisk business in turning away
applicants, and from the bottom of the line Raymond was not kept
waiting long before he attained the top; and from thence in his
turn was led into an inner office. He was briefly examined as to
his sea experience. Could he box the compass? He could. Could he
make a long splice? He could. What was meant by the monkey-gaff of
a full-rigged ship? He told them. What was his reason in wanting
to join the Navy? Because he thought he'd like to do something for
his country.
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