“I’ll larn you,” answered Mr Bradley. “There’s the ship alongside that quay. I’ll lay you never saw a uglier.”
The Peabody was not an attractive craft, but Daniel had no eye for a ship and merely regarded the steamer as an ark of refuge until better days might dawn. She lay low in the water, had three naked, raking masts, and bluff bows. Her engines were placed right aft. The well of the ship was not five feet above the water-line.
Mr Bradley, ignorant of the fact that the new carpenter’s mate had seldom seen a ship in his life, and never been upon one, supposed that Daniel was taking in the steamer with a sailor’s eye.
“A better weather boat than you’d think, for all she’s so low. Ten knots with a fair wind. We’re taking out a mixed cargo and we shall bring back all sorts and probably cruise around on the South American coast till we can fill up somehow.”
“What sort of a captain have you got?”
“A very good old man. Too good for most of us. A psalm-smiter, in fact.”
“I’ll come an’ see the captain, an’ have a bit more breakfast, if you’ve no objection,” said Daniel.
“He won’t be there. He’s along with his wife and family at Devonport. He’ll only come aboard an hour afore we sail. But I’m in command now. We’ll sign you on right away. What sort of a sailor are you?”
“Never knowed what it was to be sea-sick in my life,” said Daniel, laughing to himself at the joke.