Travel

September, 1976

Running away to sea used to be a common dream of romantic youth. Climbing the fog-shrouded gangway to the rusty old tramp while Wolf Larsen looked down from the bridge; in the fo'c'sle, a crew of sullen lascars ready to mutiny at the least excuse. The best you can do today is run away to the Merchant Marine Academy, an act that doesn't have quite the same devil-may-care quality about it. Or you can ride a freighter, as a passenger, for money. It's not something Eugene O'Neill or Jack London woul...