Nat was no milksop. He had often fought with the lads on the dock on less provocation than this, and, for the time being, he forgot he was on a ship.
"What's the row?" asked the second mate, who, hearing the sound of high voices, approached to see what the trouble was.
"Oh, here's a fresh fellow who wants to see Mr. Bumstead," replied Nat.
"He can't until after grub hour," said the second mate shortly. "What's your business, young man? Tell it, or go ashore."
"I want to see Mr. Bumstead," replied the red-haired lad more humbly than he had yet spoken, for the second mate was a stalwart man.
"What for?"
"Well, he expects me."
"Who are you?"
"I'm his nephew, Sam Shaw, and I'm going to make the rest of the trip with him. He invited me, and I'm going to be a passenger."
"Oh, so you're his nephew, eh?" asked the second mate.