Monsieur Benoit (who had quite forgotten my pay) was good enough to compliment me on my skill in handling canvas, and as we neared our destination his civility became almost embarrassing.

He sought to engage me as his permanent lieutenant, and promised to make all sorts of excellent reports on my behalf to the officials.

I humoured him as best I could; but the scent of the sea-breezes as we gradually reached the wide estuary and saw before us the masts and towers of the city of Havre, set me longing for old Ireland, and determined me, Benoit or no Benoit, to set my foot once more on Fanad.
I requested of Benoit a few days' leave of absence, after our stores were duly delivered at the depot, which he agreed to on the understanding that my wages should not be paid me till I returned to the barge.

In this way he imagined he made sure of me, and I was content to leave him in that simple faith.
But now, as I wandered through the squalid streets of the city of Havre, and looked out at the great Atlantic waves beating in on the shore, I began to realise that France itself was only a trap on a larger scale than Paris.

True, I might possibly find a berth as an able-bodied sailor on a French ship; but that was not what I wanted.