Also, with this death-road concept in my brain, I began to grow afraid that something would happen to me before sailing day, which was set for some time in January.

I lived more circumspectly, drank less deeply, and went home more frequently.

When drinking grew too wild, I got out.

When Nelson was in his maniacal cups, I managed to get separated from him.
On the 12th of January, 1893, I was seventeen, and the 20th of January I signed before the shipping commissioner the articles of the Sophie Sutherland, a three topmast sealing schooner bound on a voyage to the coast of Japan.

And of course we had to drink on it.