Dan entered the place, and he saw at once that the sailor had not overdrawn the character of the house. It was about the worst he ever had seen. The place was thronged with tough characters, few of whom were sailors; or, at least, they did not appear to be.
"I don't believe a man of them has ever smelled salt water unless he's been out on the breakwater," thought Dan.
Glancing about, he failed to see any of the men for whom he was looking. He strolled about, attracting as little attention as possible, though several of the men regarded him suspiciously.
The front room was a sort of office and lounging room. A small desk, on one side, was walled off by a rusty iron screen. Around by the lower end of the desk was a door opening into a rear room.
Dan decided to investigate. He made his way as quietly as possible to the end of the desk, pushed the door slightly ajar, peered in and sneezed.
The odor of bad tobacco was almost over-powering. The boy blinked and sneezed again.
"Shut that door, you lubber!" roared a voice from the rear room.
Davis shut it, but when the door closed he was on the inside, with his back against the door.
It was with difficulty that he made out the faces of the men congregated there. Not one of them paid the least attention to him.
"Ah, there's one of my men now," muttered the boy.