A photographer on the outer pier at East Boston got a picture of her as she swept by, her flag at the peak throwing its folds clear.

A thrilling pulse beat high in me.

My step was light on deck in the crisp air.

I felt that there could be no turning back, and that I was engaging in an adventure the meaning of which I thoroughly understood.

I had taken little advice from any one, for I had a right to my own opinions in matters pertaining to the sea.