"Oh, that's all right," said Nat, bravely keeping his feelings under control. "Dad's been dead a little over two years now. He and I lived pretty good—before that. My mother died when I was a baby. Dad was employed on a lumber barge. He had a good job, and I didn't have to work when he was alive. But after he was lost overboard in a storm one night, that ended all my good times. I've been hustling for myself ever since."
"Didn't he have any life insurance, or anything like that?"
"Not that I know of. I remember he said just before he went on—on his last trip—he told me if it turned out all right he'd have a nice sum in the bank, but I never heard anything about it. They found his body, but there was no money in the clothes, nor any bank books."
"That's too bad. How do you get along?"
"Oh, I make out pretty well. I live with a Mr. William Miller and his wife. They're poor, but they're good to me. He's a 'longshoreman, and he works around the docks. I do, too, whenever there is any work to be had, and I manage to make a living, though it isn't very much of a one."
"No, I presume not. Perhaps if I speak to my father he might give you a position on his boat."
"I'm much obliged to you," replied Nat. "I like boats and the water. I'd like to be a pilot."
"I'm afraid dad couldn't give you that job," answered young Mr. Scanlon. "We have a good pilot."
"And I don't want to leave the Millers," added the boy. "They've been good to me, and I want to pay them back. But isn't that some one calling you?"
He pointed to a figure down on the float, where the boat was tied.