He sat up and surveyed Hal sleepily.
"I'm sorry I roused you. I'm the new hand—the greaser," said Hal.
"Oh, you're the greaser! Wall, yer aint the sort as ships aboard the Mohican every time. What aer it? Rows with the boss? High jinks at home? Broke; aint that it?"
"Not quite, but nearly," Hal answered with a smile. "I'm working my passage."
"So; then you've come to right ship ter do it. But you'd better get to your quarters; there, along the alleyway. So long, young 'un, and when yer want a bit of a help, come along to me. I'm Old Yank, the boss of the engine-room."
Closing the door, Hal went along the alleyway till he came to a large cabin, above which was painted "Greasers." No one was in, but one of the bunks had evidently not been appropriated.
"That will do for me," thought Hal. "I'll put my bundle here, and then have a look round."
Five minutes later he descended the ladder which led to the depths of the ship. Beneath him was a maze of machinery. Down below were one or two figures moving about. A wave of hot air ascended, while a loud whir, caused by the revolving armature of the dynamo, filled the engine-room.
Hal felt somewhat out of his element; but, congratulating himself on the fact that he had some right to be where he was, he hastened down the ladder, and dropped to the floor.