The old tar slapped the boy heartily on the shoulder.
"Don't worry about that!" he cried. "I'm no land-shark. This trip shan't cost you a cent. Come on."
And Richard followed. To a new-comer West Street is certainly a curious sight. Saloons predominate, but between them are located tiny eating houses, cheap clothing shops, meat stalls, bargain "counters," and lodging-places, only about one in ten of the latter being fit for occupancy.
"Here we are!" exclaimed the sailor presently.
They stepped up to a small restaurant, considerably neater than its neighbors. Its exterior was painted light blue, and over the door in big, black letters, hung the sign:
THE WATCH BELOW, DOC LINYARD, Boatswain.
And to the right of the door, near a figurehead representing a gorgeous mermaid, were added the words:
Messmates Always Welcome.
The doors were wide open, and the two entered.
Several men sat at various tables, eating and drinking, and behind a counter that did the double duty of a pie-stand and a cashier's desk sat a tall, old man with grizzled white hair.