"All right, youngster; I'll obleege ye!"
The next moment a portion of the partition was removed and a rough-looking man came through.
Van assumed an air of boldness.
"Sit down," said he, "and tell me where I am."
"Well, you are a cool un!" observed the man. "But since ye have asked me, I'll tell you. Young man, you are on board ther Mary Newman, which are a tradin' schooner, bound for ther African coast. We are now jist outside of Sandy Hook, an' blowin' along afore a stiff breeze."
"Who brought me here?" questioned our hero, not affecting the least bit of surprise.
"I don't know, my boy. I suppose ther captain was short of hands, and collared ye while ye were drunk. Sich things are often done, yer know."
"Do you believe that is the way I came to be here?"
"Can't say whether I do or not, youngster. I am ther mate of ther vessel, an' I never asks ther captain anything about his private business. All that I knows is that you an' a feller a little older than you are were brought aboard together in a drunken state, an' I took it for granted that you were chums, an' had either shipped of yer own accord, or else been collared while ye were sleepin' off ther loads ye had on."
"What sort of a looking chap was it who came aboard with me?" asked Van.