“Excuse me,” said he; “but didn’t I see you in the steamship office inquiring about passage to San Francisco?”
“You did,” replied Oliver. “What of it?”
“Maybe I can accommodate ye, seeing as how the Polly Eliza is going to sail first thing to-morrow morning,” responded the stranger. “My name is Morris, Niles Morris, and I’m part owner and captain of the Polly Eliza, as trim a little coast steamer as there is in these parts. If you want to ship with me, now is your chance, one or all of ye.”
Oliver looked at the man. He was short and stout, with a ruddy face, and his voice had a hearty ring.
“We do want passage,” said Oliver. “What do you say?” the last to Mr. Whyland.
“We would like to see your vessel,” replied that gentleman. “Is she lying anywhere near?”
“Just down at the end of the bay. Come right along with me and I’ll show ye. You’ll find her with first-class accommodations, even if she is small.”
Captain Morris led the way along the street, down a long wharf, and into a small rowboat. In five minutes they reached a spot where a neat-looking steamer was lying. They were taken aboard, and found what her captain had said was true. All was as new as a pin, and it pleased the boys as well as Mr. Whyland.
“And you sail to-morrow morning?” said the latter.