“What do you mean by that?”
“Why, I mean, how much did he weigh?”
“O, he was a stout, thick-set man—the strongest man in the ship, and always took the bunt of a sail. I shouldn’t wonder if he weighed nearly two hundred.”
“Now, see; it’s just as I told you a while ago. It isn’t beef that makes a man, but it’s pluck, knowledge, and good principles.”
“And friends.”
“He’ll have friends if he has those things. They will raise him up friends anywhere. Here you are, fretting because you don’t weigh two hundred, like Dick Cameron, and are not twenty-one. But if anything should happen to the officers of this vessel, all this crew of twenty great, stout men, second mate and all, couldn’t get this vessel home. They would have to fall back on Ned Gates, if he hasn’t got any cue to speak of, and can’t furl the royal when it blows hard, and the sail is wet and heavy.”
“I won’t whine any more, Walter.”
“It wouldn’t make one farthing’s difference as to age or size, with such a crew as this, all neighbors. If you are only modest, and know your duty, they would take pride in seeing you go ahead.”
“Well, I won’t feel so any more. Let us talk about something else.”
“I’ll tell you when we can get together, and it will be nobody’s business.”