"He ought to be on a freight steamer," was Dick's comment—"some boat where he wouldn't meet anybody but those working under him. I can't understand how the captain can bear him for his first assistant."
"The owner of the steam yacht hired him," answered Mr. Rover. "I believe the captain does not like him any more than we do. But the mate does his duty faithfully, so the captain cannot find fault."
Another individual the boys did not like was Bill Bossermann, the assistant engineer. Bossermann was a burly German, with the blackest of hair and a heavy black beard and beady black eyes. He had a coarse voice and manners that put one in mind of a bull. Hans tried to get friendly with him, but soon gave it up.
"He vos von of dem fellers vot knows it all," explained Hans to his chums. "He makes some of dem, vot you call him—bolitical talks, yah. He dinks eferypotty should be so goot like eferypotty else, und chust so rich, too."
"Must be an Anarchist," said Tom. "He looks the part."
"Norton told me he was a first-class engineer," said Dick, "but when I asked him if he was a good fellow he merely shrugged his shoulders in answer."
One day the first mate was in command, the captain having gone below to study his charts and work out the ship's position. Tom had brought a baseball to the deck and was having a catch with Sam. The boys enjoyed the fun for quite a while and did not notice the mate near them.
"Can you throw it up over that rope?" asked Sam, pointing to a stay over his head.
"Sure thing!" cried Tom.
"Look out you don't throw it overboard."